Weregirl by Patti Larsen Read Free Book Online

shed the weaknesses I’ve adopted lately. I need to be an even newer me, stronger, more powerful, more heartless. Take the lessons Syd taught me and use them to my advantage, as tools. To be the wolf, more than the girl, understand emotion without falling victim to it. Accept the practical above the emotional. And to no longer think in terms of me alone, but of the pack.
    That is where I lost myself. Selfish and lonely, I failed them by trying to be someone who put herself first. But that’s not how wereculture works, and to rule them, I must adopt fully the ways of my people.
    Charlotte means nothing. The pack is everything.
     
    ***
     

Chapter Nine
     
    My return to the palace is slower, my pace more steady and regular than the all-out pounding of my original run as I circle around and head for home. The wolf pack drops off when I near the edge of the trees, all but the white female. She stops with me as I bend to retrieve my clothing, head tilted to one side, ears perked. I slip into my shirt and jacket, holding her gaze. I’ve never tried to approach her before, not in human shape. She seems fearless as I cross to her and crouch, only a few feet from her.
    She whines, licking her snout, but not out of worry or fear. That I would sense. She instead seems concerned for me, a fact I find odd, considering she’s just an animal. And then I shake my head and laugh at myself, my own wolf huffy at the “just” reference. Of course, she’s much more than that. She’s a wolf.
    I offer my hand and she comes forward to lick my fingers. “Thank you for running with me,” I say. “It means a lot, knowing you are out there.”
    She bobs her head, sniffing the air around me before barking, a soft but urgent sound.
    “I’ll be back tomorrow.” I stand, still holding her eyes with mine, wishing I could understand her better. “We’ll do it again, if you’d like.” This pleasure I will never give up, no matter who tries to stop me.
    Her tail wags, ruffling the dead leaves as she barks again. I turn from her, feeling her gaze still on me, and, once I’m halfway across the broad, manicured lawn, I turn and look back.
    She still stands, remaining in place until I’m almost to the palace doors, motionless, a ghost flickering white in the dark. But when I look back one last time, my feet passing over the stone of the first step, she’s finally gone and her loss makes me sad.
    I pause at the top of the wide front steps, hovering behind the threshold to the foyer, feeling the walls I built within softening all over again. Thanks to the wolf? Maybe. Can it be I’m no longer able to sustain the protections I once wore as easily as the clothes on my back? I should be upset I can’t live in anger for long, not anymore. But I’m not. I will have to find another means to guard myself than the endless bitter rage I used to use to my advantage, that much is clear. I must find a balance if I’m going to be part of the werepack for real without allowing myself to become a softened victim of emotion.
    The scent of Sage intrudes as I enter the still air of the massive entry to the palace. With the wind no longer carrying his scent from me, I’m trapped. I thought I’d run him off of me, but it is obvious it will take a long, hot shower to succeed. My feet scuff over the carpet as I walk toward the well-lit throne room entrance, knowing my grandfather will still be awake, waiting for my report. I will have to keep my distance or he will catch the aroma of a stranger from me and now I’ve parted ways with Sage, I don’t want to have to answer questions about him.
    I remember only the feeling of being watched, and a spark of rebellion returns. If my grandfather has been having me followed, he already knows about Sage. Only a tiny whisper of worry wonders if it’s not Oleksander… who could it be?
    My rebellion grows into a flare of recklessness widening my stride and bringing a snarl to my lips. What if I told Sage what I was and