Heir To The Pack (The Cursed Pack Book 1)

Heir To The Pack

by

Laura
Welling

This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.

Heir
To The Pack

Copyright
© 2015 Laura Welling

ISBN 978-0-9967685-0-4

Edited
by Jennifer Bray-Weber

Cover
by Kim Killion

All
rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used
in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First
electronic publication 2015

http://laurawelling.com

CHAPTER
ONE

Annie sat in her rental
car in the driveway of an enormous log home that crouched against the woods on
the outskirts of Missoula, Montana. Dash’s home, according to the private
investigator. Dash, the father of a son he didn’t know existed. Their son, Jack,
who was fading away from a mysterious illness.

“You want us to come with
you?” Daisy asked, pushing back her grey curls to peer up at the house.

Annie gripped the wheel
tightly. She could still drive away. But she’d never been a coward. Boring, yes.
Conservative, sure. But underneath her quiet research scientist’s exterior she
liked to think she was tough. She’d raised Jack on her own thus far, hadn’t
she? She could do this. She would.

Unbuckling her seat belt,
she fixed her mother with what she intended to be a steely glare. “Wait here,
Mom.”

Daisy nodded, ignoring
Annie's mood as usual, and pulled her knitting out of her purse.

Annie turned to the back
seat. “Jack, Mama’s got to go talk to someone. You wait here with Nana for a
minute.”

Jack didn’t reply but
simply continued staring out the window, his head slumped against the side of
the car seat, his face grey, eyes unfocused. The only thing he’d said since
they arrived in this state was “I sleepy.”

She wished he’d wave and
giggle like the old Jack. Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the car and
made her way to the front door.

The massive door seemed
sized for a race of giants. Dash was very tall, but not that tall. There was no
doorbell. Instead, in the center of the door, at eye level, a huge doorknocker
in the shape of a wolf waited for her. She reached for it, but paused with her
hand in mid-air. It had taken a month for the investigator to find Dash, ever
since the doctors broke the bad news about Jack. She’d planned this moment
since she found out the address. How would he react?

The door swung open under
her hand, revealing none other than the man she’d come to see. He laughed,
called out, “Yeah, in a minute,” then turned to face her.

His face stilled as he
recognized her. He was perhaps a little too rugged to be considered
conventionally handsome. His dark hair had been cropped since last time she’d
seen him and now had an early sprinkle of gray frost in it, a surprise at his
age. The rest of him—well, three years hadn’t done him any harm at all. Three
years ago, he’d been a handsome young playboy. Now, he was most definitely a
man. He’d filled out in all the right places, his jaw had squared, and
something in his eyes had hardened.

“Annie?” His pale blue
eyes warmed. “I heard the car. I can’t believe you’re here. You’re absolutely
the last person I expected to see.” He reached for her, swung her around, and enveloped
her in a huge bear hug.

Surrounded by his arms and
the total, overwhelming masculinity of his scent, she was transported back to
how good they’d been together, those three days in Cancun after she’d passed
her thesis defense. He was the only unplanned thing she’d ever done in her
life. A wave of pure unbridled lust rolled over her from head to…well, not
quite to her toes. It lodged a good deal higher.

She stepped back. Had to
keep her head together until she’d given him the news.

“Not that I’m not glad to
see you, but I’m...surprised.” He raised one quizzical eyebrow. “It’s been three
years. A little longer.”

“Dash, I—”

He grabbed her hand and
pulled her into the house. “Don’t stand out there,” he said, “It’s much too
cold.”

“I’m not alone,” she
managed. She could do this.

“Oh?” He stopped, and the
smile faded from his face. “Who’s with you?”

“My family.” She wanted
him to see Jack. That was why she’d brought them along. So Dash could see his
son, see the incredible resemblance. And see for himself the boy was ill.

Dash’s pale eyes grew
dark. “I see.”

She suspected he didn’t. “I
need to talk to you about some things.”

Dash smiled once again, but
it didn’t reach his eyes. “I was right in the middle of something when you
arrived. Go get them, bring them in. It’s too cold to leave them outside. I’m
in the kitchen, back there.” He touched her arm, leaving warmth behind. “Go on.
I’ll see you in a minute.”

Annie found herself
outside on the step again, head spinning. Her palms dripped sweat and her knees
trembled. From the car, Daisy stared at her, mouthing something she couldn’t
possibly make out. She walked around the side of the car and opened the
passenger door.

“Did he throw you out?”
Daisy said, her eyes avid with curiosity. “What did he say? You never told me
he was so good looking.”

“He said we should all
come in and go back to the kitchen,” Annie said, nerves making her mouth stumble
over the words.

“Really? Did you tell him
already?”

“Not yet.” She opened the
back door and unbuckled Jack while her mother clambered out of the front seat
and gathered up her things. Hoisting Jack on to her hip, she said, quietly, “Now,
we’re going to see how this goes. Wish me luck, Jackie.”

He rested his head on her
shoulder and tucked one hand into the neckband of her shirt. “Okay, Mama.”

This was the second most
frightened she’d been in her life.

She traipsed back into the
house, feeling his weight, not as heavy as it had been, in the small of her
back. Daisy followed, eyes huge, and mouth remarkably closed.

Annie followed Dash’s
directions to an enormous country-style kitchen. He stood pouring coffee into
cups at a center island.

“Annie,” he greeted her,
when she entered. “And this must be—”

Total silence fell. She
absorbed his stunned expression, followed by frantic calculation. While she
waited for him to react, the hairs on the back of her neck warned her they were
not alone.

The adjoining dining room
hosted a large group of tall, rugged men and women of various ages. Every pair
of eyes regarded Jack. Every pair of grey and yellow eyes. No one moved. No one
spoke.

Jack sat up and looked
back at them.

Annie knew Jack looked
like his father, but seeing him against the backdrop of this tribe of
dark-haired, light-eyed people, all tall, all a little too
something
, she knew no one would mistake him for anything other
than one of them. She supposed they were charismatic. Whatever it was, it made her
want to turn and run.

She took one involuntary
step backwards, and bumped into Daisy.

“Mother of God, Annie, you
said he looked like his father, but I didn’t imagine this.”

All those pairs of eyes
swiveled to regard Daisy. Most of them turned back to Annie and Jack.

Dash met Annie’s gaze. His
smile had disappeared, replaced with an expressionless mask. Nausea hollowed
her belly.

“Let’s go in the den,” he
said, and walked past her into a hallway. She followed, conscious of all those
eyes watching her. Jack put one hand on her shoulder, looking back at them as
she walked away.

Dash led them to a room
with a view of the back yard, and waved toward an aged leather couch. The den
held shelves on shelves of books, dark walls, heavy furniture, and all throughout
the scent of Dash, dark spices with a hint of pine. Her instincts suggested she
remain standing, all the better to flee. But Jack grew heavier each minute she
had him on her hip. She eased down into the couch cushions.

Daisy walked over to the
window. “Great view of the woods,” she said.

“Would you like to take a
closer look?” Dash said, swinging open one of the French doors, and gesturing
at the garden beyond.

Even Daisy could take a
hint. “Jack,” she said, “Let’s go look at the big trees.” She reached down and
took him from Annie, who had to force herself to release her grip, and they
went out into the garden.

Dash sank down into a
fancy office chair next to a walnut and leather desk, and ran both hands
through his hair.

“Surprises on surprises,”
he said. “So he’s two years old?”

“About that,” Annie said,
quietly. Her agenda bumped about inside her brain, but she knew shocks took
time to sink in. She’d give him time if it would give her answers. She needed
time, herself. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your...gathering.”

“Why do you think he's
mine?” Dash said, his face tightening.

She breathed in slowly,
prepared for this. “Because there was no one else that year.” That was
understating the case. She'd never had much of a love life, because her work had
always been the most important thing. Until Jack. And after Jack came, there'd
been even less time to think of dating than before. “I was finishing my
dissertation. And after you...there was no one after you. I was pregnant.”

He raised an eyebrow, but said
nothing.

“Listen,” she said,
leaning forward, needing to fill the silence. “I’m a scientist. A biologist–an
immunologist, if you want to be precise. I am all about evidence, and so I
understand why you want some. Get a paternity test. While you’re waiting you
might like to look in a mirror.” Sitting back, she smiled at him, beginning to
feel calmer, satisfied she’d made her point.

“I can see he looks like
me,” Dash said. “But I don't understand how he can be mine.”

She could think of a
thousand things to say, none of them polite. Instead, she said, “Oh? What makes
you say that?”

He shrugged. “No insult
intended. I’m not able to have children.”

“What?” He must be
mistaken. Jack was living proof. Or Dash could be lying, but she’d thought
better of him. “How can you know?”

“Science,” he told her. “You’re
the scientist, remember?”

A vein throbbed in her
eyelid, a sure precursor of a headache. “Will you at least take the paternity
test?”

Dash sighed. “Gods, what a
mess.”

His words broke down the
bravado she’d built up on the trip here. Annie hated confrontation. She’d spent
all this money, come all this way, and he wasn’t going to help them. Breathe
deeply, she recited to herself, but her deep breath came out in a shuddering
sigh, and her vision blurred. She pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand.
She needed to keep it together a little longer in order to change his mind.

“Look,” she said. “I don’t
want money. I don’t even want you to spend time with him, unless you want to.”

“Why are you here? I don’t
understand why you’re telling me this now.”

“Jack is sick.” There. She’d
said it. The words it made her anxious even to think. “The doctors don’t seem
to know
anything
.” And she could hear
the frustration in her own voice. “But there could be clues in the family
history, a genetic component.”

Dash froze, the oddest
look on his face. She couldn’t have said what it was: not anger, not fear, not
rejection. Could it be shock?

“What’s wrong with him?”
he said.

“No one knows.” Annie
launched into her story. She’d waited so long to tell him, rehearsed the words
over and over in the time it had taken the investigator to find Dash
no-last-name, out West somewhere. Dash Campbell, she knew now. “He was always
such a bright little thing, so fast and so advanced for his age.”

Dash watched her intently.
“Go on. Advanced how?”

“He’s physically adept,
and verbal. Hit all his milestones early. Sitting up, walking, running,
climbing, all before nine months. Talking. Incredible imagination.” Her heart
swelled with pride. “He would make up the most amazing stories.” She paused for
breath. “Until one day he stopped.” The words themselves hurt, summoning the
now familiar fear that haunted her days and nights.

“What do you mean?” His
voice softened.

“He started going
downhill. No energy. Sleeps all the time. Stopped eating, lost weight. Started
catching colds. Stopped talking, mostly. Stopped running and jumping and
climbing and playing. Stopped cuddling his toys. He’s disappearing in front of
my eyes.” She fought not to cry as she spoke, trying to convey her terror
without breaking down. “I can’t help him. And that’s why I’m here. I’m
frightened. Jack is my son, and I would do anything—
anything
—to make him back into the happy, healthy little boy
he was a couple of months ago.”

Dash watched her, his gaze
level, but not hard. “Is he going to die?”

“No one knows.” Her voice
cracked.

He stood up, walked over,
and squatted down in front of her. “Annie,” he said, his voice low, his eyes
focused on her face. He took her hand, and she nearly wept with relief. She
must have gotten through to him. “I will try and help you, if I can. But I genuinely
don’t understand how he can be my son.”

The words sank into her
like claws. Why didn’t he believe her? “Why is this so hard for you?” she burst
out, all her control gone.

“It’s not that I think
you’re lying, or stupid, or any of the things you could be accusing me of but
very politely aren’t.” He kept his voice soft, his pale blue eyes intent.