Free 3: Fera - Pack City by Carys Weldon

knees went weak. But that could have been from the fact that I wasn’t used to standing upright. If you recall, I’d been running on all fours until just before I met him.
     
     
    I didn’t want to give Jack the power of knowing he made my knees weak. I remember thinking that I had to be worn-out from all the events of the night. Funny, how you fight what you know is true, what you don’t want to accept. That maybe, just maybe, you’ve met your match.
     
     
    “When--” His voice cracked a little. “When I got bit, I thought--”
     
     
    I knew what he thought. That he’d never find peace, or sanity again. That he’d be lonely forever.
     
     
    That hung between us for several seconds. Kismet. Kindred souls. Destiny.
     
     
    A sense of belonging. A sadness for him, and the fact that he’d gone through that first change on his own, feeling totally victimized.
     
     
    I could imagine the pain he must’ve gone through.
     
     
    The fact that he conveyed it to me by the way his voice broke and the way he reached for me, tucked my head under his chin and held me, while trying to speak of how he felt--it did something to me.
     
     
    “I thought that my life was over.” He choked over the words.
     
     
    I slipped my arms around him. And I have to say, I reveled in that. Never had I had arms before. Legs, paws. Well, I still had paws, but they had a different feel to them, a new sensitivity. I spread my claws and held on. I closed my eyes and listened to the beat of his heart under my ear, felt the warmth of his body against mine.
     
     
    Maybe I jumped the gun a bit, but when he said that to me, I took it to mean that with me, he felt there was something to live for. Call it the princess syndrome. The world revolves around me. You can’t help what you are.
     
     
    But you know what? It was exactly what I needed to hear. I whispered, “Shh. It’s just begun.” I took it as a sign that he needed me.
     
     
    I clung to it. After all, I’d left P.C. for him, with him.
     
     
    I believe Gaia knew I needed him. I’d been so lonely. Never even realized it. I’d watched the others at Pack City with my puppy dog eyes, pathetically pretending that their affections were nothing but entertainment to me. Curiosities.
     
     
    But really, I had felt such a soul-consuming sadness, like I’d been left out by the whole universe, always on the fringes of everyone else’s lives. Gaia knows I lived vicariously through Kayty. Pretended to be the one in Leer’s arms, under his all-encompassing masculinity.
     
     
    I think Jack smiled then, when I sort of promised him a life together, though I couldn’t see his face. I just sort’ve felt it, ya know? He practically purred, “But then, when I was at my sorriest, I got word, I mean, wind, of you.”
     
     
    I frowned, pulling back so I could look at him. “Word?” Call me wary. Something made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
     
     
    “Wind. Slip of the tongue.” He grinned. “Forgive me.” Then, he flicked his tongue out, traced my lips quickly, and sucked it back in before I could object. That had me scrunching up my nose, totally distracted from what he’d been saying, and dropping my mouth open in surprise, too. Thinking, damn, I’ll bet that tongue’s as good as Leer’s at--
     
     
    I didn’t get any further than that in my thinking. Because Jack slid his hand up my back, grabbed a hold of my hair and pulled my head back, rather forcefully, but not painfully. Kind’ve snapped my attention directly to his face.
     
     
    He searched me. That’s all I can say.
     
     
    And there was a hardness in the way he did it. His body felt tight against me, like every muscle bunched up. There was anger there, I could feel it. I chalked it up to pent-up frustrations. We all have them. And confusion. I mean, it had been one damn crazy night.
     
     
    “Fera.”
     
     
    “Yes.”
     
     
    “Tell me that you wanted to leave that place.”
     
     
    Oh. He