Cry Wolf

Chapter Fourteen - The Savior

Roland's POV

Mon Dieu!

I'm a damn fool.

A fool standing across the street, cloaked in darkness, watching some teenager like a god damn stalker. I told myself I wouldn't follow his scent. That I wouldn't bow down to my wolf. But before I knew it here I was.

Damn stupid. I can't be here. I have responsibilities. The pack requires my presence. I need to leave. Now.

Even as I tell myself to go I can't bring myself to move. I stand rooted to the ground.

Christopher Eagle. A boy who could barely walk three steps without tripping over his own feet. He should mean nothing to me. And yet here I am, mere yards from his house, inhaling his scent like a drug addict.

His home looks as if it should be condemned. The porch is crooked and nigh collapsed. Numerous windows are broken and there's plywood covering holes in the roof.

It displeases me and my instincts scream to take him from here. My wolf is prowling within my mind, equally distraught.

Instead I watch. I can see him through an open window, sitting at a table, one measly little lamp turned on. He's reading from a book the size of an encyclopedia, jotting down notes on a torn piece of paper.

There's nothing unique or entertaining about what he's doing. Yet, I've been here for hours. Everything about him fascinates me. The way his brows furrow when he's concentrating. The way his lips move as he reads. The light blonde hair that keeps falling into his eyes and those damn glasses he keeps pushing up his nose.

I shouldn't find anything about this boy appealing. I definitely shouldn't find it arousing as hell every time he bites his lip.

I clench my jaw. This is bullshit.

Do not deny me.

I fight to ignore my wolf. I'd beat the crap out of him if I could.

Human. He's a human. That alone is enough to stroke my anger. Humans were forbidden for our kind. My wolf knows this.

Not my concern.

A growl sounds in my chest. Humans are fragile. Weak. I could kill him with one wrong move.

Turn him.

And face killing him in the process? There was a reason werewolves were forbidden to turn humans. They rarely survived the transition or the first brutal change into their wolves.

Excuses. We are strong. He will be as well.

And the fact that he's a god damn man?

Your denial is becoming tiresome.

Damn it! My fist connects with the tree beside me, the bark splintering under the force.

In truth I shouldn't be surprised by his choice, my wolf has never hidden his attraction for other males. I've always been able to deny him, pretend it didn't happen, find myself a woman to bury into and forget.

Not this time. This time my wolf would not be denied what's his. What's ours.

Rubbing a hand down my face I glance upward. Why couldn't my wolf have found us a nice werewolf female? One soft and sweet. This isn't what I wanted.

You can lie to yourself, but not to me.

In this moment I despise my wolf.

My ears twitch, drawing my attention back to the shithole of a house. I can hear someone shouting. An older male. He storms into the room where Christopher is reading, swinging around a bottle of liquor. Christopher gets up, immediately leaving, as if he's trying to avoid the confrontation.