Hunting Human

by Amanda E. Alvarez

  Her coat shone pale silver in the moonlight, except for her Prime Mantle. Slate gray fur tipped her ears and spread down her neck to wrap over her shoulders and cover her front legs like a cloak. She backed herself into the corner of the room, ears pressed flat to her skull, snarling and hunched as if prepared to leap. Scared blue eyes tracked his every move.

  Braden swallowed his pride and dropped to his belly, whining as he pushed himself toward her. He tried to convey his submissiveness through his body language and his intentions through his eyes. She let him get within a body length before she snapped her jaws, bristling and backing as far away as the tight corner allowed.

  Undaunted, he rose slowly and pushed his head forward. He didn’t think she would attack him. Instinct would tell her it was a fight she couldn’t win. She kept her teeth bared and hackles up, but didn’t move as he made a final push forward, rubbing his muzzle against her cheek and toward her ear. Relieved that she’d allowed the contact, he laid his head briefly on top of hers and pulled away.

  Braden backed off, allowing enough room for Beth to move out of the corner. He sat and cocked his head, anxious to see what she’d do. She sat back into the corner, dropping her hackles and pulling her teeth behind her lips. She regarded him, with the same ice blue eyes that always captivated him, for so long that Braden wondered if they’d remain in this strange standoff until the sun rose.

  Unsure how to encourage her without crowding her, he curled up on the floor a few feet away. Slowly, Beth emerged into the room. From the spot he’d chosen on the floor, Braden watched her carefully circle away from him. For the moment, he was content to let her. It gave him the opportunity to look his fill.

  She was truly magnificent, but he could tell she had no idea how to care for herself. She was too thin, her ribs too defined under fur that, despite the beautiful color, was dull and thin. As she moved across the room, gait unsteady, her muscles continued to spasm as though the shift had just occurred. She wasn’t eating right. Probably wasn’t exercising during the shift either.

  And why would she?

  How could he expect her to know how to handle this; how to ensure that the change was easy, that she and the wolf stayed healthy? No one had helped her.

  Braden couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been. The fear. The desperation. He’d never regarded the change as something vicious, but he’d never faced it alone, either. Beth settled wearily on the rug in front of the bed, curling tightly into herself, her eyes never losing track of him.

  He rose and padded over to her. She tensed as he settled next to her, but didn’t growl or jerk away. He lay his head down gently over the back of her neck, thrilled when her muscles relaxed and she faded into sleep.

  I won’t let her face this alone. Not ever again.

  Braden blinked groggily and scanned the room.

  The murky gray of early morning wrapped the room in shadows, but nothing moved and nothing appeared out of place. Next to him, Beth quivered and exhaled on a whimper. Blue eyes, hazed with fear and pain caught his. Another shudder racked her thin frame and she whimpered again, curling tighter into herself and he understood. Her muscles began the cycle of cramping and flexing, the first rays of sun only minutes away. The moon’s power waned, forcing Beth back into her human form.

  Braden pulled away. If the sun was that close…

  He willed himself to shift forms. It was a little early, but Beth was already suffering the first onslaught of spasms.

  I can do this.

  His muscles warred against his attempt to shift. Braden focused on the sensation of human limbs and human senses, and forced the change to come. It took longer than usual and even as hands and feet replaced paws, he knew he’d be sore for the rest of the day.

  He knelt near Beth as he struggled to catch his breath. Her body shuddered and jerked, her muscles locked in a never-ending cycle of spasms. She panted through her snout, locking her jaws around the cries vibrating in her throat.

  “Shh. Beth, try to relax.” He slid his fingers into the soft fur behind her neck and trailed his hand down the length of her spine, willing her muscles to unclench. “Try not to fight the cramping…”

  As he continued to card his fingers through her fur, he felt her physically try to relax and allow the shift to take control. The audible pop of bone and the snap of muscle drowned out her whimpers. He watched in horrified fascination as Beth endured the slowest shift he’d ever seen. It took a full two minutes before she lay curled in on herself, limbs twitching in the aftermath.

  With shaking fingers Braden resumed stroking the length of her spine. Her skin shone with sweat and felt clammy beneath his fingers. For a long time, only the sound of her harsh breathing filled the air.

  She pushed her arms up underneath her and tried to hoist herself to her knees. Unable to watch her struggle, Braden slid an arm under her stomach and another around her back, sitting her up.

  She mumbled something he didn’t catch. “What?”

  “Bathroom. Please…I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Braden lifted her to her feet and supported her into the bathroom. She darted away from him and dropped to her knees, retching violently the moment she reached the toilet.

  At a loss, Braden turned on the steam shower, getting the spray hot, and tried to ignore the way the harsh heaving racked her frame. When trembling fingers reached to flush the toilet, Braden intercepted them, pressed a damp washcloth into their grasp and flushed the toilet.

  “Thanks.” She trembled, but pushed herself to her feet, a soft blush spreading from her face down to the top of her chest, trailing over the soft swell of her breasts. “I’ll just…” She gestured toward the shower. Embarrassment colored her sallow cheeks as she looked away, but whether she was uncomfortable over her illness or the fact that they were both naked, he wasn’t sure.

  He pulled her to him with a gentle grip on her arm and led her into the shower. She bristled, her damned independence reasserting itself. Braden tightened his grip, determined to keep her with him, and coaxed her under the spray of six massaging showerheads.

  “Oh…” She moaned low in the back of her throat as the warm jets of water went to work. Her muscles relaxed beneath the onslaught of hot water as his tensed in reaction to the way she was pressed up against him naked, wet and moaning.

  He pulled her closer; her cheek pressed against his chest, and reveled in the way she leaned against him, allowing him to run his fingers over the soft skin of her back, and through the wet strands of her hair. She pressed her forehead against the center of his chest and laid a hand under his heart.

  “I hate you…” The words had no force behind them, and though they pierced his heart, he heard them for what they were.

  “You don’t. Not really.” He rested his chin on her head. She shivered and shook her head against his shoulder. “Shh,” he said. “Don’t do this. Not now.”

  Beth wasn’t sure how long she stood there, limp against his chest, his steady heartbeat against her cheek. The water went cold against her back, seizing muscles that had relaxed under the pounding heat of six showerheads. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and reached behind her to turn off the water. She didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

  A fluffy towel draped around her, absorbing the chill as he guided her out of the shower and into the bedroom. He released her, pulling back the bedcovers, then ushered her, still damp, onto clean sheets. When he gently began to dry her, starting at an ankle and moving up her leg, she made herself look away. It was too much. All too much.

  The weight of her wishes crushed her. She wished she’d never gone to Europe. She wished she’d never been bitten. She wished she’d never seen him shift from man to beast in the driveway of her home. So many wishes. So many regrets. But she couldn’t bring herself to wish she’d never met him. Because in this moment, as his large, gentle hands carefully dried her, soothing sore muscles with their steady warmth, she needed him. She needed him so fiercely her entire body yearned for
him, eclipsing everything else.

  He was comfort. Pure and simple. He slid between the sheets next to her and drew her to him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He stroked his fingers through her hair, a quiet presence beside her. Warming her. Supporting her. Comforting her. Solid heat, where before there’d been nothing but the cool tile of her bathroom to soothe her through the first hours of the morning.

  She drew her fingers down his chest and sought his nipple with her lips. He grunted. His fingers coiled in her hair that spilled down her back.

  “Beth,” he growled. “I’m not made of restraint.”

  She didn’t have to feel him to know he was heavy and ready for her. A distant part of her acknowledged that her actions were selfish, but her yearning overrode her reason and she closed teeth around the nub beneath her tongue, her body warming against the groan that rumbled through his ribs. She knew he wanted her, could feel it in the way he held absolutely still beneath her. The slightest shift of her leg against him, the smallest tilt of her chin toward his mouth and he’d give her what she wanted. Comfort and a knowledgeable embrace she’d never dreamed she’d find.

  That more than anything drove her forward.

  He should roll her to her side, pull her against him, and coax her into sleep. He knew it. The feeling resonated within him, warring with the stark desire to roll the other direction and drape his body over hers.

  The moment of indecision cost him. She tilted her head and reached for his mouth, pressing her lips to his. He knew her emotions were high and the situation wrong but he couldn’t control himself against the press of her lips and the swell of her breasts as they brushed against him as she slid closer.

  He was sunk.

  He rolled to meet her, working his lips over hers, coaxing soft sighs from her mouth as he fell into the pace she set. Fingers stroked along planes of muscle, kneading where they found knots, soothing away tension and enticing a languid desire to settle rich and heavy in every limb.

  It took every ounce of his control to give instead of take. To follow instead of lead. He’d never submitted in such a way before, never responded solely to the demands and desires of another. He’d never felt such slowly coiling pleasure either.

  The few seconds he took to pull away and secure a condom were torture. Every ounce of him cried out for her and quivered with the anticipated return. She rewarded him with a warm welcome that embraced him as he stroked the center of her.

  They kept the pace slow and the movements long, their breath commingling in the scant space between them when they grew too distracted to maintain a kiss. It was intimate. Excruciating.

  Powerful.

  She clenched, hot and tight around him, pulling his release from the very depth of him. Like the rest of their lovemaking, it lasted an eternity and passed in a heartbeat, stamping his memory forever.

  My God.

  She lay sprawled across him, quiet and limp, her breath coming in quick bursts. He pulled the sheet they’d kicked off up to her shoulder and let one hand trail down to knead the rise of her butt.

  He drifted to sleep beneath the blanket of her body, his heart swelling with something he didn’t want to name.

  ***

  The gentle trail of fingers woke her. Up her spine, down her arm, around her hip.

  Repeat.

  The rhythm of it kept her floating between sleep and wakefulness. She just drifted. The fingers pulled her hair away from her shoulders so they could dance over a shoulder, skirt a collarbone and…dart back up toward her neck to gently stroke tiny marks, almost too faint to see, over and over again.

  “I can’t believe I never noticed these,” Braden mumbled as his fingers traced the faded scars.

  Reality descended with stunning speed, slamming her awake. “They faded quickly.” She jerked her shoulder away, pulled the sheet to her breasts and sat up. “They healed quickly, too.”

  “They usually do—it’s the first place the change takes hold after the bite. Still, I’m shocked I didn’t notice them before. I noticed everything else about you.” He playfully ran his fingers down the exposed skin of her back.

  “Don’t.” She scrambled from the bed, taking the sheet with her as protection. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” He asked, “Don’t touch you?” He sounded honestly mystified.

  God, what a mess.

  “Just don’t.”

  “Beth.” He pulled himself out of bed. She kept it between them when he stepped toward her. He drew up short, his forehead creasing in confusion and his mouth drawing into a thin line. “What’s wrong?”

  Hysteria-induced laughter tried to bubble out of her. What wasn’t wrong? The entire situation was a disaster.

  “I should get dressed. It’s probably late.”

  Too late. It’s definitely too late.

  “Bull,” he said, his fists tightening at his side. “Try again.”

  “I think you should leave.”

  “And I think you should start talking. What’s going on? Things seemed better this morning.”

  “That was a mistake. It won’t happen again.” She pulled the sheet tighter around herself as if that would convince him.

  “Like hell.” He stalked around the bed, advancing on her. She matched every step he took until she hit the wall. He stopped dead. “Beth, I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  You already have.

  She’d be damned if she allowed it to happen again.

  “Don’t do this, Beth.” He pinned her with a look he backed with so much emotion it hit her resolve like a sledgehammer. “You can trust me.”

  “I don’t even know you.” She ignored the part of her that even now reacted to his presence, the part of her that had coaxed her into his embrace that morning.

  “Yes, you do. I’m the guy you dodged a rainstorm with, shared a steak with. I’m the guy you had passionate sex with. I’m still that guy.” He softened his tone. “That hasn’t changed.”

  How could he say such a thing? Everything had changed.

  “That guy? The guy that came to my apartment to do God knows what? The guy that turned into a werewolf in my driveway? The guy that Tasered me and tossed me in the trunk of his car? That guy? Because him? Him I don’t know.” She advanced away from the wall, fury propelling her forward. “Him I don’t want to know.”

  He sucked air as though she’d sucker punched him. “I didn’t Taser you! And that’s not fair.”

  “Neither is this.” She gestured between them. “I get it. I’m stuck here until Markko’s dealt with. I don’t have a choice. But after that? After that I do have a choice.”

  “So what? You’ll leave? Bury your head in the sand? Pretend a part of you doesn’t exist?”

  She shrugged and turned away from him.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’s worked really well so far.”

  She whirled on him, sheet clenched in her hands, eyes flashing. “I survived it before you. I’ll survive it without you.” The mere thought of it devastated her.

  It’s only sex. You’ve done without before, you can again.

  That much, at least, was true. She’d had her share of relationships in college, enjoyed the sex and taken pleasure in the easy companionship. Nothing too serious, no strings. But after Rachel…well, she hadn’t missed it. Hadn’t even thought about it.

  Until Braden.

  The memory of him, of them, drew a physical response from her so profound it seared straight through the core of her. She’d miss his kisses, deep and drugging. The way he ran his hands over her as though he couldn’t get enough. The way he possessively toyed with her hair. She’d miss the physical.

  She’d learn to live without it.

  “You don’t have to survive it. Not anymore. And not alone.” He reached for her, resting his palms on her shoulders, thumbs caressing her exposed collarbone. “There’s so much I can show you. So much you can learn. Let me help you accept this part of yourself.” He implored her with his eyes and stroking thumbs, his me
ssage clear. Believe me. Trust me.

  She jerked away from him, away from his touch. It was too potent, too tempting. Once was forgivable, twice would be unconscionable. Angry with her own weakness, she brushed past him to the bathroom.

  “I don’t want to live with it. I don’t want to accept it. This isn’t normal—not for me.”

  “Don’t punish yourself for what you couldn’t control. You’ve suffered enough.” He caught her wrist and pulled her back. “I’m not them. Neither are you.”

  She felt trapped beneath the weight of his stare and the strength of his words.

  She jerked her arm away. Incapable of fighting him and her own thoughts any longer, she backed into the bathroom and protected herself the only way she knew how. “But that’s what I see. Every time I look at you, I see them. And I see Rachel.” She choked on the tears and ignored his expression. “I see her sightless eyes and her torn throat. Every time.”

  She slammed the door on his stunned expression, terrified he’d see the way the words agonized her. Terrified he’d reach for her again. She turned the shower to scalding and willed the noise to block out the sound of his body slumping against the door.

  It was better this way. She was better alone. Even if it squeezed her heart and chilled her soul.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Hey.” Lucy walked in with a plate of breakfast and a mug in her hands. She perched on the edge of the bed and helped herself to a croissant. “Hope you don’t mind.” She gestured with the pastry, a grin pulling up the corners of her mouth.

  “Sure.” Beth peered into the mug Lucy left on the bedside table.

  “Braden said you prefer tea, so I raided Mom’s stash. Hope Earl Grey is okay?”

  “It’s great, thanks.” Beth took a long sip and let the warmth of the liquid sooth her throat. “Where’s Braden?” She’d been carefully avoiding him for the last forty-eight hours, leaving his room only when coaxed out for meals by a family member. They were nothing if not persistent.