Free Wolf Next Door by Heather Long Page A

there when Toman came and ordered her father to strike certain people from the histories. The alpha had been furious, the cold anger a lash he used to strike with every syllable. Throughout the scolding, her father kept his eyes down, but she hadn’t been able to stop watching their alpha. Three weeks of nightmares followed that visit. Every one ended the same way—Toman tore her father’s throat out, and she’d hated him a little bit more each time.
    Her father or her alpha? She couldn’t really be sure which. Straightening, Claire rubbed her hands over her face. Everything on her was gritty and grimy. Despite all of Toman’s anger and threats, her father hadn’t stricken the names from the histories, he’d simply stopped submitting them. She’d found an entire cache of journals behind one of the bookshelves. Those she’d boxed and marked with Mason’s name.
    He was alpha, making them his problem.
    The difficulty of being the historian’s child was her memory. She recalled every conversation with such clarity, so they continued to haunt her. In Sutter Butte, after her first year—her first kills—she’d heard someone mention her potential. The word awoke a memory of her parents arguing over her father’s refusal to concede the alpha’s position.
    “He wants to drive out the alpha potentials. That is his right,” Julius Webster told his mate. “They are still a part of our pack. They are still a part of our history. Pretending they never existed doesn’t erase them.”
    She had alpha potential. Ages old anger and frustration flooded her. Potential meant the ability to achieve, not the desire or the actual achievement. She had historian potential, too, due to her flawless memory and honed by her father’s lessons. Hell, for that matter, she could cook. What the fuck good was alpha potential when it caused so much strife and misery?
    Telling Tyler about Justin had been the right thing to do, but his indecipherable reaction left her floundering. He’d finished the meal and left. No word. No explanation. Maybe she should have looked after his injuries after his fight with Linc. Guilt nibbled on her conscience. Most wolves were unreasonable after a fight, and it helped prevent further fights to not push them. He’d stayed, so maybe it meant something. He’d spoken to her, too.
    ‘Course, maybe it simply meant he was a better person, a kinder wolf than she would ever be, and she should get the hell out of Willow Bend before she hurt him again. A whistle sounded from outside, and she rose. Tyler stood in the yard, bathed in moonlight. Wearing only his jeans, his skin gleamed and his eyes were wolf yellow.
    Damn, he looked good.
    “You okay up there?” The question surprised her. When was the last time someone asked her how she was feeling? Wolves who needed that touchy feely shit needed a protector. She protected herself.
    Folding her arms, she leaned against the window frame. “Missing my dad. Remembering. It all kind of sucks.”
    A half-smile, a quick flash of teeth, before he answered. “I can imagine.” Not because of his parents, no—because of A.J. He and his brothers had been inseparable. The only times she’d ever seen him apart from his siblings was when he dropped by to deliver a new edict—or decision to make her life easier, or better, or whatever bullshit excuse he came up with to sugarcoat ordering her around.
    “Hey.” His voice penetrated her musing. “Still here.”
    “I know.” Her wolf rubbed against the inside of her skin. She wanted out, she wanted to go down and play. It had been plenty of time since the fight, and he didn’t smell angry or upset. If anything, she could scent the lake and…the breeze pushed a faint hint of Mason toward her.
    He’d spoken to the Willow Bend Alpha. Was that good or bad?
    “I have a couple of questions.” He spoke so carefully, as though he were picking and choosing his words with absolute care.
    Years of guarding her back against the