Wild Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  He’d never investigated a Feral like this one, that was for sure. Most of them were little more than half-made animals, unable to process even the most rudimentary information in their ruined brains. They’d have left him to die, ripped apart by the wild wolves, and certainly wouldn’t have helped him after the attack.

  Simon curled his lips into a smile. He liked a puzzle, and the challenge this Feral presented had come along at exactly the right time in his career.

  “Do you live here?” he repeated.

  Pursing her lips, she didn’t answer, so he tried again.

  “I mean, if you have another place to live, how long have you been camping here?”

  “None of your business. You seem well enough to go. So get up and take your stuff and head on down the mountain.” Her tone was fierce, her expression completely closed off to him.

  Since leaving wasn’t an option, he simply closed his eyes, pretending his strength had suddenly deserted him. If she wasn’t aware of the healing abilities of their kind, he didn’t plan to enlighten her.

  Then blinking up at her, he made a show of trying to keep his eyes open. “I’ll leave as soon as I am strong enough to walk.” He moved his arm again, this time wincing for effect. Already his pain had begun to lessen, though she didn’t need to know that.

  “Today,” she repeated.

  “There’s no way I can hike down the mountain today.” Though his playacting wasn’t too far from reality, he knew he had to be careful not to overplay his part. The woman might be Feral, but intelligence glinted in her blue, blue eyes. No matter how wild she might be, he could tell she was far from stupid.

  For what seemed a long time, she silently studied him, as though trying to make up her mind. Finally, she jerked her head in a nod. “You can stay one more night.”

  Her use of the word more caught his attention. “What do you mean? How long have I been unconscious?” More than a few hours would be extremely unusual for him.

  Her clear gaze slid away. “One day, one night, and—” she glanced toward the cave entrance “—most of today. It’s nearly sunset.”

  Simon swore, earning a sharp glare. His first report would be due in one day. He’d lost far too much time. Why, he had no idea. The altitude, maybe.

  He’d have to ask for more time. Because of the immense backlog of cases, Ross hated when a Protector asked for an extension, but Simon didn’t have a choice. His supervisor could hardly argue with injury and unconsciousness.

  He just had to be careful to downplay what had happened. If Ross truly believed this Feral was a danger, he’d order Simon to kill her. Simon hoped like hell he wouldn’t have to do that.

  Despite what his friend Beck thought, while killing was often necessary, taking another life never felt good. Simon certainly didn’t enjoy that aspect of his job. The only reason they called him Terminator was because when he knew killing was necessary, he didn’t hesitate. Never had, never would. Not once.

  The Feral woman made a sound to draw his attention. He refocused, surprised that he’d drifted off, but perfectly willing to use this to his advantage. Luckily, his little fugue appeared to be exactly what he needed. He didn’t even have to continue arguing his case.

  “One more night,” she repeated grudgingly. “When we hunt tonight, I’ll give you some of our meat.”

  He dipped his head in a silent thank-you, aware she’d understand that better than words. As courtesies went, by human standards her offer was small. But considering she was Feral and wild animals didn’t share, this was huge. He made another mental note for his report, wishing he had his transmitter. He needed to check in soon.

  If she’d packed as she said, then the transmitter was most likely in his backpack, beyond his reach. Though the signal would continually relay his location, until he punched the talk button and dialed in his code, he couldn’t communicate with headquarters.

  He still had one more day. Since he couldn’t grab for his backpack without giving himself away, he’d get as much information as he could for his first report.

  He cleared his throat. “Do you have a name?”

  Her stare never wavered. “Why?”

  He wondered if she believed that to give a name was to give power. He doubted it. Such a complicated belief would require a society of others. This woman was alone and, from the looks of things, had been for years, other than for her wild pack of animals.

  Simon attempted a smile. “I wanted your name so I don’t have to call you ‘Hey, You.’”

  “Don’t.” She practically snarled the word, her gaze spitting blue fire.

  Taken aback, he cocked his head. “Don’t what?”

  “Smile. Don’t smile.”

  Stranger and stranger. Knowing he had no choice but to go with the flow, he frowned. “Is this better?”

  “Yes.” She answered grudgingly. “Thank you.”

  “My name is Simon.”

  “Simon.” She repeated his name under her breath. Then, as though having his name made giving hers easier, she lifted her chin. “I am Raven.”

  Another huge milestone. For the first time in a long time, Simon believed he just might have found a Feral who might be able to be rehabilitated.

  Just then his transmitter, always on, buzzed loudly from his backpack.

  Chapter 3

  W hen the stranger’s—Simon, she reminded herself—backpack buzzed discordantly, her entire pack went on instant alert. Stiffening, the wolves closest to her watched her for a cue on how to react.

  Even Simon froze, wincing.

  “My transmitter,” he croaked. “Would you bring it to me?”

  Transmitter. She vaguely knew the term, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it meant. Something not good for her or her pack, she thought.

  Unsure, she didn’t move. “Is this transmitter some kind of weapon?”

  He frowned, and then slowly shook his head. “No. It’s a communication device. If I don’t talk to them soon, they’ll send someone looking for me.”

  Though she heard his words, she couldn’t read his expression, nor scent whether he spoke the truth. One of the things she hated about staying in her human form. “Them?”

  “The people I work for.”

  She had no idea who they might be. Since the last thing she needed was to have this man call his job and give them his location, she made no move to retrieve his transmitter.

  The thing buzzed again and his frown deepened as he realized she had no intention of retrieving it. He pushed himself up and made a weak attempt to lunge for his backpack. Easily, she slid it out of his reach and waited. If he was well enough to stand and make a move toward her, he was well enough to go.

  Fervently, she hoped he was well enough to leave. Then she could go back to her normal life. His presence in her cave not only unsettled her pack, but reminded her of things from her past she’d rather forget.

  But either his weakness was real, or something of her expectations must have shown in her face. Instead of pushing to his feet, he sagged back against the stone wall and sank to the ground. Crossing his arms, he glared at her, his expression darkening. “You really don’t understand how important it is that I talk to them.”

  Since this was so patently true, she didn’t bother to reply.

  At her completely blank expression, he sighed. She watched as he made a visible attempt to relax. “Look, Raven, I’m serious. I only have a certain amount of time. There’s a ticking clock. I have to report in.”

  Hearing her name spoken in his husky, deep voice sent a chill through her. Again, unsettling. “You aren’t making sense. None of this matters to me.”

  “You might think none of this matters,” he said. “But it does. If I don’t check in, they really will send someone else. Another Protector, and he’ll kill anything and anyone he believes threatens me. Including your wolves.”

  Though she took care not to show it, this statement alarmed her more than anything else he’d said. She would not e
ndanger her pack. Her ragtag group of wild wolves trusted her to keep them safe.

  “If that’s true, you’ll have to leave right away. You can take your transmitter with you.”

  Again his mouth twisted into that strangely attractive wry smile. “Yeah? How? I can’t even sit up without help.”

  “Maybe I can rig some kind of sled.” She put out the suggestion merely to see his reaction. In her past experience men, especially men like him, would find such an idea a challenge. He wouldn’t know that she had neither the materials nor the strength to haul him down the mountain.

  His dark gaze flicked over her, absurdly making her feel naked, which made her clench her teeth. “Rig a sled with what? And even if you managed to build something, how would you get me down?”

  The way he echoed her thoughts made her wonder if he’d read her mind. Could such a thing be possible? She supposed so. If people could change into wolves, anything was possible.

  She continued to stare at him. Despite her repugnance toward him, she’d never seen a human male so beautiful. The fact that he was like her, part wolf and part human, only made him more attractive. This infuriated her.

  “Of course I could always push you off a cliff,” she said softly.

  “You wouldn’t.” He spoke with certainty.

  This intrigued her. “How do you know?”

  “You aren’t stupid.” He gave her a sharp look. “And I’m not, either.” With that, he closed his eyes, effectively dismissing her.

  Raven didn’t move, not until the even sound of his breathing indicated he truly had fallen asleep.

  While he slept, she took the opportunity to study him, closer than she’d ever dare while he was awake. Still wearing her human skin, she knelt down close to him and touched her nose to his hair, trying to decipher the complexities of his scent as if that could tell her why she felt the odd push-pull of him.

  With her ordinary human nose, he only smelled like a man. So she couldn’t understand why his scent made her want to touch her mouth to his skin and taste him. Not like food, no. She honestly thought if she could decipher the mystery of him and figure out his secret, she could vanquish the powerful longing that made her so furious and so restless.

  But she couldn’t and she wouldn’t, so she rocked back on her heels. Another reason to want him gone.

  Unsettled, she restrained herself from touching him again and pushed to her feet, more certain than ever that he had to go. In desperation, she even considered the feasibility of using his tent as a sort of travois and hitching him to her pack of wolves, harnessing their energy like sled dogs. A nice thought, but one she doubted they’d allow, even for her.

  So it appeared she was stuck with him, at least until he regained his strength.

  Heading to the other side of the cave, she took his backpack with her. She needed to take a look at this transmitter thing herself. If there was a way, she would disable it.

  Pulling a small, black plastic box from the bag, she held it up to see better. A light on the side glowed softly red, indicating it was on. Though she lived in the wilderness, she made an occasional foray into town, staying at a hotel. This thing couldn’t be that much different than a television remote control. Easily, she located the power button on top and pressed it, holding it until the light went off. There would be no calling or making reports until she’d gotten him out of her cave and off her mountain.

  Oblivious, Simon continued to sleep. Careful not to wake him, she moved quietly to the back of her cave and hid the backpack, tucking it into a stone alcove where a narrow shaft led farther into the earth.

  Then, eager to use the free time before her unwelcome guest woke, she signaled to her wolves. Once they’d all moved near the entrance to the cave, she stripped off her clothes, muttered her invocation and changed into her wolf-self. With her wild pack at her side, she went out into the cold, white snow to hunt.

  The icy, packed snow felt cold beneath her paws, rapidly numbing them. She shook herself, increasing her stride until she ran flat out, her wolves streaming at her side. She ran until her muscles ached, ran until she had to pant, ran until she thought she might have banished the disquiet the man called Simon had brought with him.

  Then, she got down to business. Now she could hunt for that night’s meal.

  Ever conscious of time constraints, even as a wolf, she kept her hunting time short, killing a half-frozen rabbit and marking the spot with its blood so her other wolves knew where they could find the meat. They converged on it while the body still steamed. Snapping and snarling, they fought among themselves over the food. She knew this small morsel would scarcely dent their hunger, and that was her intent, to spur them into a thorough hunt for more game. When they’d eaten their fill, they’d return to the cave.

  Moving away from them, she searched out another rabbit to bring to the cave so she could feed Simon. He’d need meat to regain his strength if he were to ever be well enough to leave.

  Once she’d returned to the cave, she shook the snow from her fur and, as wolf, padded over to check on the human. Satisfied he still slept, she made the change back to woman and dressed, shivering as she did. A bitter chill had settled over the mountain and she knew the temperatures would plunge lower once the sun set.

  Waiting while her pack finished hunting, she felt their absence keenly. She was their Alpha and as such should be leading their hunt, not remaining in the cave. But keeping watch over Simon was a necessity, too. She couldn’t take the chance he’d notify others about her location.

  Others. Her restlessness returned at the thought. She’d had no idea there were others. Others like her. Growing up she’d read books about werewolves, seen the horror flicks, knew the legends. But those stories were all fiction.

  Werewolves didn’t exist. Except for her. She believed she was an anomaly, a freak of nature. Until Simon had come to her mountain and she’d see him do what she’d thought she alone could—change into a wolf.

  Because of this, a hunger burned inside her that had nothing to do with food. She hungered for knowledge, the desire to know more about her kind, her people. Yet she knew if she asked, he would tell her, and the serenity of her perfect world would be forever shattered.

  Damn him.

  One thing she’d never been, even when the professor had kept her caged like a wild animal, was a coward. Nor would she become one now. That night, while Simon was still too weak to move, she’d get the answers she so desperately wanted. And then, once she’d learned what she needed, she’d figure out a way to remove him from her life.

  An hour later, her wolves returned with what was left of their catches. Game had been plentiful as the smaller animals emerged from their burrows in search of sustenance. Raven took her portion and a portion for Simon before burying the rest in the coldest part of the cave. This meat would serve as food the next time a snowstorm struck.

  Though she couldn’t communicate this to them, her pack trusted her and watched without protest while she carried the meat away. They were well fed and sated, having already feasted during the hunt.

  When Simon began stirring, she used a few of her precious stash of matches and wood to make a small fire. Then she spitted the last two rabbits and hung them over the flames to let them cook until she judged them done.

  In her world, doing such a thing was tantamount to a gift. Once the human intruder accepted, he’d have no choice but to answer her questions.

  The scent of roasting meat must have done the trick to bring him fully awake. Moving better than he had earlier, he sat up, dragging his hand over the stubble on his rugged chin.

  “Hey,” he said softly, his deep voice again sending a chill down her spine.

  Teeth clenched, she made no reply, gesturing instead to the meat slowly cooking, waiting with her breath held to see if he would accept her small offering.

  “That looks far better than it should.” A smile hovered around his well-shaped mouth. “I’m starving.”

  Damn the man a
nd his smile. Hurriedly, she looked away, staring at the meat, which now appeared to be turning black on one side.

  Turning her back to him, she retreated to her small fire pit. Yanking the rabbit from the flames, she carried a haunch over to Simon and dropped it near him.

  “Eat,” she ordered, retreating a safe distance away. Her own stomach growled. Usually, she ate her meat as wolf, raw right after the kill. Months had passed since she’d eaten cooked meat, and as she took the other rabbit for herself, tearing off a leg and biting into it, she resolved to cook more often.

  He struggled to push himself up onto his elbows. Again she wondered how much of his weakness was real and how much was an act. Despite all his talk about time constraints, he didn’t appear to be in any hurry to leave.

  Once he’d managed to sit up, he snatched up her gift without hesitation and tore into the meat as if he hadn’t eaten in days. The rabbit was tough and stringy, over-cooked on one side and close to raw on the other, but he wolfed it down, making low-pitched sounds of gratification.

  Watching him devour the food fascinated her, though for a different reason than her pack, who despite their full bellies nonetheless coveted his meat. Only respect for Raven, their Alpha, kept them from fighting him for his meal.

  When he’d gnawed even the gristle from the absurdly tiny bones, he tossed them to the closest wolves, then licked his greasy fingers clean. Despite the sudden lump in her throat, she continued to eat her own food. Then, mimicking his actions, she rose, bones in hand. She handed all of the bones to only one wolf, the smallest of her pack, a runt wolf she called Ben. The others watched silently, though they knew better than to try and take his bounty from him. As long as Raven stood guard, none of her wolves would dare to steal from Ben.

  Only when Ben had swallowed every morsel did Raven return her attention to Simon. “You’ve been fed. Are you strong enough yet to leave now?”

  He ignored this, so she rose and went to add more wood to the fire. When she turned, he still watched her, his dark gaze intent. Knowing.