“No thanks,” Bryson called. “Don’t much enjoy the taste of asshole.”
Wes could sit here all day and trade insults, but he had bigger stuff on his mind. Stuff he needed to sort out on his own.
At least he’d successfully gotten rid of Hunter and Bryson’s prying attention by sending them on that pointless errand. They weren’t ready to sell the smaller herds yet, but it wouldn’t hurt them to be moved up here and get some good feed from the troughs in the front pasture.
Sam is alive.
Heart beating his chest hard enough to hurt, Wes yanked open the door and strode straight for his room. Duffle bag, pair of Wranglers, a couple T-shirts…
He rounded the corner and made it two steps into his room before he smelled her.
Summer.
But when he jerked his gaze off the floor, the woman who sat in his chair in the corner didn’t look like Summer at all.
The Summer he’d known had been all blond highlights and an easy smile. She’d been sunshine and laughter and dimples. She’d been curves and oozed with a sweetness he hadn’t been able to resist because she’d been the opposite of him.
The only similarity he saw between the Summer he knew and the Summer who sat in his bedroom chair now was her eye color—brown. And even then, it was only in one eye. The other was silver like mercury.
She’d died her hair black as night and grown it into long waves. Her full lips were drawn into a straight line of detachment, and her dark eyebrows were drawn down. She wore smoke-gray makeup on eyes that were dead as she stared back at him.
She had piercings all down one ear and wore a black tank top that was ripped low, exposing the top of her breasts. Rows of black bracelets adorned one wrist, and her jeans were dark blue, no rips. A pair of black western boots with steel toes completed her outfit.
A snarl sounded low in her throat.
Fuck. He’d turned her into this.
“You used to hate the color black,” he murmured.
“Nice opener.”
God, he didn’t even recognize the grit in her voice. The wolf he’d given her had changed everything about her.
This. This awful, poisonous feeling… This was why he’d left his old life. Guilt wasn’t good for a man like him. When his own wolf let off a long growl, Wes shook his head and slammed the heel of his boot on the wooden floorboards hard enough to jolt pain up his bad leg. That stopped the noise.
“What would you like me to open with?” he asked.
Summer shrugged up one shoulder. Her mis-colored eyes were empty. “Honestly, I don’t care. I’m here for one thing, and one thing only.”
“Sam?”
She nodded slow.
“How?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
The snarl in her throat got louder. Summer held her finger up and angled her face. “Close enough, Wesley. My wolf, she don’t like you, and I’m not one of you Kaids. Didn’t get that lucky gene. Didn’t get that control. You want your throat ripped out? March on closer then. You want to stay in one piece?” Summer twitched her head toward the door. “You stay the fuck over there.”
Wes didn’t like being talked to like this, but a wise man knew when he deserved something. Summer could kill him, and he would bleed out knowing he earned her teeth. So, he took a step back and angled his head in a gesture he’d never done before—for anyone. He exposed his neck, a sign of submission.
Her silver eye glowed brighter. “Your wolf sure feels different. Meaner. Even now, while you’re pretending to be submissive, you can’t stop glaring at me. I almost forgot how bright your eyes get when you go animal. Almost. The first time I saw them, do you remember?”
He wanted to retch at the memory. He slid his hands behind his back and clenched them hard. Steady now. “I remember. How could I forget?”
“Oh, you seemed to forget just fine, Wes. I’m not here to give you shit, though. I’m here to get your help. Far as I’m concerned, you owe me about a dozen favors.”
“What do you need?”
“Your anger. The Wesley Kaid I knew would fight anything, or anyone, at any time. Does that Wesley still exist?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want your protection.”
“Aw, Summer. Didn’t you know? You don’t have to cash in any favors for that. All you gotta do is ask.”
“You’ll probably die,” she said simply.
Well, now he was curious. “Where’s Sam?”
“When I tell you, you’re going to want to Change and maul something, but I warn you—you won’t be mauling me. You’ll get yourself killed, Wesley. Control is key around me.”
He hated that she called him “Wesley.” Hated being called by his full name by anyone, but she knew that. She was using it to get under his skin, or perhaps to distance him.
“I won’t Change,” he said.
One corner of those perfect, full lips turned up, but her smile was still dead as hell. “Pity. You would be a fun fight.”
The Summer he knew was long gone. His heart ached with the realization. He deserved it. Deserved it.
“Samuel Kaid doesn’t go by his given name anymore. He goes by Bones.”
“What the hell?” Wes asked. “Why did he change his name?”
“Oh, you’ll see. Guess what pack he branded himself into.”
Wes leaned back against the wall by his dresser and uttered honestly, “I don’t keep up with the packs or the moving members in them. Not anymore. I keep up with life here at the ranch, that’s all. I don’t worry about the other wolves unless they come into my territory.”
“I heard.” She arched her dark eyebrows. God she was stunning, even as this dark being. “You killed the entire Westland Pack, didn’t you?”
He didn’t trust her anymore. She was too different from what she used to be, and though female wolves were rare, they could be dangerous as hell. They were the more cunning gender by far, and he wasn’t getting trapped into some confession. Not when he didn’t know what pack she was branded to. “Why would you think I killed the Westland pack?”
“Hmm,” she murmured, rocking back in the chair slightly as she looked down her nose at him. “A careful answer. I like it. And I think you killed them because I pay attention. You were a fighter when you were human, and I’m betting you are really damn good at fighting now that you’re a shifter.”
“You think you know a lot about a lot, don’t you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’m a better hunter than you and your brothers combined. Obviously. You would’ve gone your whole life thinking Sam was dead because you don’t pay attention to the bonds like you should.”
“My bonds are fine.”
She inhaled deeply. “Can you even feel them? My bond to you exists because you made me into this creature. It attaches me to the people you care about, too, Hunter. Some big predator shifter you started bonding with a couple months ago. A she-wolf. A human. Your pack. But it also lets me feel Sam. I always felt him. It took me forever to figure out what these bonds are about because I didn’t have a teacher.”
“Wait, back up. You can feel Sam?” he asked softly.
“You can, too, Wesley.” There was a flash of sadness that washed through her eyes, but it disappeared as fast as it had appeared. “You were never good with feelings.”