Blood of the Wolf

by T. L. Shreffler

  This time Jaime was determined, though. She had to lose her virginity, she had to. It was the only way she could establish herself as independent. It was the only way she could free herself from him.

  She hadn't seen the dark, imposing man who had killed her family since the night of the fire; he wouldn't leave her dreams, though. From foster home to foster home she ran, fleeing from state to state across the U.S., but somehow his image never left her. She could still feel the hardness of his body, her lips tingling at the memory of his sharp kiss... and her gut still contorted with rage. She hated every bone in his body, if possible even more than the day they had met, and she wouldn't allow his claim on her to come to pass. She needed to lose her virginity as soon as possible; if she could do that, then perhaps he would never come for her. Perhaps she would be able to live the rest of her life without looking over her shoulder, wondering if he was following her, sick with dread....

  “Hey, you okay?” the boy asked, his hand pausing. “It's okay if you don't want to do this.”

  Jaime snapped back to the present. She put her hand over his and guided it closer to her crotch. Her skirt slid up partway. “No, believe me, I want this,” she assured him, giving a teasing smile. He grinned back, smug.

  “Good thing I brought some... protection,” he said slyly, and flicked a small plastic square from his pocket. Jaime recognized the condom and let her hand travel to his pants. It brushed over the area of his crotch and she felt a firm hardness.

  “Let's do it,” she murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

  His lips brushed against hers, and the boy groaned in anticipation. Jaime forced out a few noises herself, trying to act like she was enjoying herself. The sad truth was that she hadn't been able to respond to a man since that bastard had kissed her. Memories of him always interrupted moments like this.

  The kiss deepened, tactless and awkward, his mouth pressing against her. Her hand returned to his pants, and she started to unzip them. Don't think, she told herself. Just act.

  Flash!

  At first she tried to ignore it, but the sudden burst of headlights was unexpected and insistent. She groaned and pulled back, annoyed and even more turned-off. The boy pulled back too, surprised. “What...?” he murmured, sounding drunk. He was drunk, she reminded herself.

  She tried to remember his name but couldn't. “Shh,” she hushed, putting her finger to his lips, desperate to recover the situation. “They'll pass in a moment.” Probably just park scum, looking for a late-night spot to fuck or shoot up.

  Or not. The sound of door slams met her ears, but because of her buzzed state, Jaime didn't have time to react. Her mouth opened, and suddenly a flashlight was blazing straight in her face, making her eyes burn. “What the hell?” she grunted. Her hyper-sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps.

  “There she is!” she heard a voice mutter. It would have been undetectable to human ears. “Grab her, forget the boy!”

  What the...?

  Jaime launched to her feet on instinct, so fast that she felt her partner topple over backward, but she didn't hesitate. Her instincts were screaming — something was drastically wrong, more so than usual. The men's scents reached her nose, and she almost gagged from their musk; it was a fresh pack of wolves that she didn't recognize, discernible by their distinct smell, much different than the usual vague mix of human and car exhaust. Despite their lack of familiarity, the men shared the same threatening presence. These were predators.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, and she turned tail and ran. The grass was wet with nighttime dew and she slid twice while trying to climb the hill. Their picnic had been set up at the base of a steep slope, next to a gravel parking lot wedged between patches of trees. Black River was a town located in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by high mountains and forests. This particular park bordered one such mountain slope, shrouded in shadows and ferns. She dodged upwards, not looking back; she could hear her pursuers' footsteps. She didn't know what had happened to her date, if he was even still alive. She wondered how long it would take for the hunters to Change.

  Yet strangely, they didn't. She reached the top of the slope where it turned into a road, and started sprinting down it, praying that a car would drive by. It was past midnight, and she doubted anyone would be out, but it was her only hope. “Come on,” she muttered under her breath, her lungs heaving. “Someone... anyone!”

  There was a thrashing sound behind her. The hunters were exiting the woods! Jaime's heart raced in panic; she didn't know why they were chasing her. These were wolves she had never encountered before. She wondered if they could be from his pack, but even that seemed unlikely. She would have recognized his pack's scent anywhere. It didn't matter. Either way, she would never be taken alive.

  She heard their feet grinding on the pavement. They would catch up with her any second now. Despite her superhuman speed and increased senses, these were males. They were stronger, no matter what breed.

  “Come on, love!” one called, his voice so close it tickled her ear. She didn't turn around but the man's smell stuck on her; it made her wretch. “Give us a break!”

  “Yeah, slow down a bit! We won't hurt you... much!” the other called.

  “Fuck off!” she screamed back, and kept running, panic constricting her heart like a tight fist. She had to find some place safe. Her foster parents' house was the only home she knew. Otherwise she had nowhere to go — but their house was miles and miles away.

  Dammit, she thought frantically. What now?

  Then suddenly, another burst of headlights drew her attention. Finally! Someone on the road! It crossed her mind that it might be an enemy pack member, yet she was willing to take a chance. She launched herself into the middle of the road, throwing herself in front of the car with barely a second thought. “Help!” she screamed, waving her arms, heart pounding in her throat. “Help me!”

  The car slammed on its breaks, screeching to a halt. She didn't flinch, even when it stopped only a few feet away.

  “Help!” she cried again. Tears almost slipped down her cheeks. “Please....”

  The car finally turned off its high-beams, coming to a full, screeching halt. The smell of burnt rubber permeated the air. She was filled with relief, yet a second later dread hit her like a lead fist. Doors slammed, and two men climbed out of the car. Not just men. Cops.

  “Miss? Is there something wrong?” one called immediately, walking toward her. She froze in her tracks, suddenly unable to speak. The panic from the last five minutes clogged her throat, and it dawned on her that she was both high and drunk. She wasn't even eighteen yet. Whoops.

  But she couldn't tell the cops to go away; no, then she'd be back in the exact same position. And so far it looked like the two men chasing her had disappeared. What if the cops just left her there? The men would doubtlessly return — they were probably waiting for the cops to go away, hiding just out of sight. She couldn't take that risk.

  “Yes!” she said desperately, practically shouting from relief. “Yes! There's a problem! I'm drunk and high and I'm under age!”

  The officer shining the flashlight at her looked stunned, then he switched back to his cop face. When he spoke next, his voice was strong and professional. “Miss, please put your hands behind your head and keep your legs apart,” he instructed. She had been arrested before — several times, in fact, especially during her runaway years — so she knew the routine. She obeyed immediately, and they brought her over to the car, shining the flashlight in her eyes. Her brown eyes were obviously bloodshot and puffy from smoking. The alcohol was still apparent on her breath.

  “Miss, are you... uh, under the influence?” he asked.

  She nodded. It was a redundant question, but they probably wanted her answer on record. Couldn't they just hurry up? She couldn't risk more wolves appearing; there was always the possibility of an attack. She wondered if her hunters were that desperate and which pack they hailed from. It bothered her that they weren't familiar. Black Ri
ver was no man's land, a town between territories. Why would they be here?

  The cops cuffed her, took her fake ID, and escorted her to the back of the vehicle, shutting the door behind her. She slid across the black leather seats, worn and cracked from use, balling up into one of the corners. She only felt relief when the doors locked securely; there were no handles on the inside. It was an older police car, not like the new models that rode in from Davenport every now and then. A steel mesh kept her separated from the cops when they climbed into the front seat. It made her feel caged, like an animal. She tried to focus through her panicked, drunken haze, and was thankful when the cops finally pulled back onto the road.

  The trip into town was long and slow. The cops made several stops along the way, one at a 711 to pick up smokes and another at a drive-through. By the time they reached the police station, Jaime was sick and nauseous, her high having come down and the severity of the situation dawning on her. Straight from one hell into another. Instead of being captured by renegade werewolves and getting chewed up, abducted, or worse, she was now about to spend the night in a jail cell. Alone. Waiting for her foster parents to come pick her up. She had promised that it wouldn't happen again, that she would graduate this year without another call from the police. She had been so close... only one semester to go.

  It would have been worth it if I'd at least had sex, she thought bitterly as the cop car pulled into a stop at the police station. The engine turned off and the cops got out, opening her door and assisting her out. She tried not to look them in the eye, all too aware of her dazed appearance, the messy hair, the torn blouse. Her fishnet stalkings and high skirt. God, what did they think of her?

  Stop caring, she told herself firmly. Don't let them intimidate you. They were just cops, after all. She had been dealing with them her entire life.

  They entered the whitewashed, well lit building through a pair of sliding doors. Up to a narrow front desk. A black woman peered over it, looking skeptically at her with a raised eyebrow. She took Jaime's ID from the cop and slid it through a machine next to the computer, and Jaime saw her picture pop up on the screen. Her records. All of her offenses listed in front of her, mainly theft and destruction of property. Gang affiliation. That had been short lived, only a week running with a pack of outcasts back in Porterville before they had turned tail and betrayed her. Long enough to get on her record, though. She bit her lip.

  “Jaime, we've seen you before,” the black woman said. “About a year ago, as a runaway. Looks like you didn't get far. What are you up to now?”

  “Underage drinking and drug possession,” the cop replied stonily.

  “Ugh, it's just weed,” Jaime muttered. The cop behind her took a step forward, purposefully invading her space. She felt his heat against her back; it was the younger one, who she would have considered attractive if it wasn't for his cocky, bullshit grin.

  “We'll see how you feel about weed after your court hearing,” he said, making her gut twist with anxiety. Words like 'juvie' and 'probation' swirled around her head. Her foster parents had threatened to send her to a correctional home once, some place where she would learn to control herself. She tried not to show her fear and frowned instead, trying to look pissed off. If only she could really be angry and powerful – instead, for the past few months, she had felt a strange, growing desperation. She knew her mating hormones were increasing; she was close to her first wolf moon, an entire month when her body would bloom and she would be ready to mate. For the moment, she was less interested in fighting the cop and more interested in his body; she had to focus hard to ignore his heat and scent. She vaguely entertained the idea of turning into a werewolf and running away... but she had tried that before when she was younger, and it had never worked. One couldn't stay a wolf forever, and eventually they would pick her up again in some other town. It was just delaying the inevitable.

  Click. The cuffs slapped around her wrists before she knew what was happening. She opened her mouth, surprised, but they were already leading her away, tugging her toward the hallway to the back rooms.

  “Come along, now,” the young cop directed. She knew where they were taking her. She had spent time here once before in the holding cells, downstairs, where one wall was a row of bars and a toilet stood naked in the corner. At least she would have her privacy. In a town like Black River, jail cells were almost always empty, especially on a Wednesday night.

  She sighed, blowing her hair out of her face. “Do I get to make a phone call? What about my parents?”

  “We're already calling them; they can come for you in the morning,” the cop said, yanking her along when she purposefully fell behind. Jaime stumbled, glaring.

  “What the hell was that for!”

  “Watch your mouth, young lady, or we can put you down for resisting an officer.”

  That shut her up. She knew they would do it, too; it had happened before. They were small town cops with nothing better to do. Jaime could remember the big city cops, the ones in Rochester, where they were more concerned with things like grand theft auto, murders and child abductions. She had been released with hardly any fuss at all.

  She was led by the two cops through a steel door and down a flight of stairs into a long white corridor, lined with holding cells. They opened the last cell on the right and shoved her in; it was a cold white cube, with a toilet along one wall and a flat cot along the other with a standard blanket. No pillow and no windows. The lights were only on in the front half of the room, leaving her cell in shadow. She was thankful at least for that much. Now she could try to sleep.

  The cop waited for her to enter the cell, then passed her a gray jumpsuit. He hesitated. “Change into this; I'll turn my back. When you're done, pass me your clothes through the bars.”

  “How am I supposed to get my shirt off with these cuffs on?”

  The cop hesitated, knowing she was right, then unlocked them. “Just for you to change. Now hurry up.”

  Jaime knew better than to argue, though the request made her face heat. This was a new development since last time. The cops turned away and she took the gray clothes, moving to the farthest and darkest corner of her cell to change. She tried to slip the jumpsuit on as fast as possible, starting slightly when the cop suddenly said, “Underwear too.”

  Jaime glared, turning her back to him. She quickly stripped off her red panties and pulled up the jumpsuit, then took off her shirt and started unhooking her bra. She couldn't tell if the cop was looking at her or not, but she was sure she could feel his eyes on the back of her neck. Her face flushed. She quickly tugged off the bra and zipped up the rest of the jumpsuit until she was covered head to toe in the baggy material.

  She grabbed her clothes and flung them at the cop, her last resistance. His face was red and his eyes glassy, and he stepped over to pick up her clothes, his gaze lingering on her lacy underthings.

  “You can collect these when your parents pick you up,” he said.

  “Was that really necessary?” Jaime demanded, unable to keep it in anymore.

  “New policy,” the young cop mumbled, not meeting her eyes. He stepped up to the bars and grabbed her wrists, slapping the cuffs back on before turning to leave. His shoes snapped smartly on the cement. Jaime sighed, watching him disappear back upstairs, then walked over to the cot and slouched down. She slumped forward, itchy in the rough, stiff material. Somehow she felt naked, exposed, more vulnerable in the unfamiliar clothing.

  She pulled her knees up to her chin, balling up protectively. She pressed her forehead against her legs. Flashes of scenes moved through her head, snapshots of the last few hours. Her date's hand on her leg, the taste of his kiss... and then, the wild chase up the hill and through the woods. The arrest. Why did these things always happen when she was ready to lose her virginity?

  She breathed deeply, her thoughts becoming lost in the dizzy haze of alcohol. The wolves couldn't have been from his pack; she would have recognized his smell anywhere. If not them, then who?
It was too hard to think, hard to keep her ideas in order. Darkness crept in around her eyes, and soon she wasn't worrying anymore; she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 2

  Jaime awoke to the cold, and the slow realization that she wasn't alone.

  The darkness gave it away. Somewhere in the shadows outside of her cell, a figure blocked the weak light from the door. She had no idea what time it was or how many hours had passed, only that all of the lights were off and the basement was deathly still. A chill ran over her skin, and the air moved from some unseen current. A smell reached her. She thought her blood would freeze.

  “You....” Was she dreaming? The figure was tall and lean, wiry and muscular, like a tightly coiled spring. His every movement was powerful and refined, a balanced act of grace and strength. He stepped closer to the bars. Closer to her.

  “Me,” he murmured back.

  Silence. Jaime moved and her handcuffs clicked together, an unexpectedly harsh sound against the soft night. The spell was broken. She jerked up, her heart suddenly in her throat, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream. Her nostrils flared. Impossible....

  He was here, in front of her, real. It wasn't a dream, though she kept pinching herself, trying to wake up. It had been years, but somehow she hadn't expected to see him so soon. Dread settled inside of her, along with a strange numbness. She didn't have to wait anymore. She could face him head on. She would fight, bound or not, and if she had to, she would Change, force herself through the non-moon transformation and attack him as her weaker self. She wouldn't let him take her... and she wouldn't let him get away.

  “How did you get in here?” she finally glared, when the first wave of fear had faded. He remained silent, staring at her.