by Amira Rain
Nash frowned hard at their shared frustration. “She still doesn’t pick up. She still doesn’t call. Why would she not call?”
It was not that she had suddenly decided to leave without telling them. Her bag was still upstairs in the master suite, exactly as she had left it this morning. Megan’s things were still in their house. But Megan was not, and their calls and texts had all gone unanswered. Fears that they could not name had piled up in their minds; half-formed thoughts and images that gnawed away in their heads like a wolf gnawing his own leg caught in a trap, thoughts they did not want to finish, images that they did not want to complete.
They had called the nearby hospital to see if she had been admitted to the emergency room. She hadn’t. They had called the sheriff to ask whether she or anyone matching her description had been seen in town since the afternoon, or been in an accident. The sheriff’s office had nothing for them. And the nameless, shapeless, formless fears mounted and grew inside both the twins, with nothing to put them to rest.
“Fuck this,” said Pearce. “I’m just gonna track her. We should have done that after the sheriff’s office came up empty.”
Pearce used the GPS tracking app in his phone, entering her number into it. He watched the phone and Nash watched him. In a moment, Pearce’s brow knit itself with ever greater alarm. “What the hell is she doing there?”
Nash stepped over to the edge of the sofa beside him. “Where?” he asked anxiously.
His brother held up his phone to Nash, who looked, and at once wore an identical alarmed and mystified look. “She’s up there? What the hell…?”
Pearce took the phone back and shot upright onto his feet. “I don’t know and right now I don’t care. We’re going after her, and we’ll need our other bodies for it. Come on, get your clothes off.”
Quickly, the twins littered the living room floor with their clothing, leaving on only their belts with phones clipped to them. Then they morphed. Fur in shades of grey broke out up and down their lean muscles and human frames. Their human shapes altered, man heads to wolf heads, hands and feet to things that were both human extremities and massive paws, tails sprouting from their lower backs, until twin werewolves on two legs stood where human twins had been.
Just as quickly, they made for the back door out of the house.
_______________
In half-wolf form, Nash and Pearce could navigate and move through the forest far more swiftly than any human ever could. Their noses, far keener than any human nose, sorted through all the myriad forest scents in the air. Their senses and the GPS in their phones both led them over tree-studded and rocky hillsides, through places where it would be a challenge for humans to go, and into the reaches of trees and brush on the slopes between their house and the town.
They made their way unerringly to the spot where the GPS told them she would be. Stepping nimbly into the partly cleared spot, they sniffed about and immediately found an opening in the tall grass where they pinpointed the scent that they knew so well.
Both twins whined and yelped at the sight of her, just lying there, eyes shut, motionless and pale. “Megan!” they both cried in rasping man-wolf voices. Moving like lightning, they dove down to her side, each taking one of her hands in his paws. Nostrils flaring nervously, they sniffed at her and watched her for any sign of consciousness. She still had a pulse. She was still warm—but not as warm as she ought to be. She was still alive.
But as for what had put her in this state… They whined again, sniffing for any telltale scent of human illness. They found none. Nash brushed the pads of one hand-paw against her face. At his touch, the color began to return to her cheeks. Faintly at first, then more strongly, her eyes fluttered.
“Megan,” Pearce said as tenderly as his wolfen voice would allow, “it’s me—Pearce. And Nash. Can you say something? Can you talk to us?”
It took a few tense seconds for Megan to focus on the two furred and muscled figures crouching over her. In a shaky voice she managed to say, “Pearce…?”
“It’s us, sweetheart,” said Nash. “How did you get up here? What happened to you? Can you tell us?”
Still shaky, Megan stammered, “I…I don’t know. I don’t know…”
They helped her up to a sitting position and held her steady. “It’s all right; take your time,” said Nash. “Breathe slowly and try to think. We’re here. We’ve got you.”
Running a hand through her hair, Megan said, “I was out walking. I was on the path by the pond, having a little walk before getting on the bus. I was just walking—thinking about you two. Thinking…” She shut her eyes again and an edge of fear crept into her voice. “I don’t know what happened then. I don’t know. I don’t know…”
“Take it easy,” said Pearce. “Try to think. Were you feeling bad, or sick, any time before that? Did you feel anything strange during the day at all?”
“I don’t think so,” Megan answered. “I was fine all day. I went to the library. I had lunch. I went to the bike path. And then…I don’t know what happened.” She opened her eyes and looked fearfully at the two wolf men. Her voice grew ever more fearful, her look more confused. “I don’t know what happened,” she said again. “What happened to me? What’s happening?” She wrapped her arms around herself and drew up her legs, curling into a ball. The brothers put their arms protectively around her.
“We ought to take her to the emergency room,” said Nash.
“We can’t take her like this, and we left our clothes at the house,” said Pearce. “Let’s get her home. If we need to, we can take her to the ER from there.”
Gently, they coaxed Megan up onto her feet, and supported her once she was standing. “Megan,” Pearce asked, “one more thing. Did you see anyone else around here? Any other lycan, any other human—anyone?”
“No, I…I don’t think so,” Megan stammered, shuddering. “I…I…”
Images flashed through her mind—impressions of a face that she knew, and of a touch that she knew. Megan gulped, remembering.
Sensing that something had come to her, and sensing that Nash picked it up from her as well, Pearce asked, “What is it? Was there someone?”
Megan shook her head again as if to shake out the memory. “No, there couldn’t have been anyone. I must have been dreaming again. My God, why would I come up here and just… What was I doing, lying here and dreaming like that? Why…?”
Each of the twins, while keeping one paw on Megan, looked down at the ground around them. Even with their wolf eyes it was not easy in the dimness of nightfall to spot any sign of another person, human or lycanthrope, in their surroundings. But there was something they noticed. Pearce pointed it out, on one side of them. “Some of the grass there: the lower grass is bent, like someone was walking here, like they came out of the taller grass.”
Nash lifted his snout and gave a hard sniff. “There’s something else too. Something…lingering a little. Can you smell that?”
Pearce did the same as his brother. “Yeah, I’m getting it too. It’s a smell like…like the way the air gets when a thunderstorm’s coming.”
“Like…ozone,” said Nash.
“Right,” said Pearce, curious and bewildered.
“What do you think that means?” Nash asked.
“I don’t know. It might not mean anything. No storms passed over. Maybe there’s one coming. But…if one were coming, the scent would be stronger than that. Wouldn’t it?”
“I think it would,” Nash replied.
“Please…please,” said Megan, “can we just get back to the house. I just want to get away from here, get inside, and maybe then we can make sense of this. Please just take me back to the house.”
The brothers returned their full attention to her. “Sure,” said Nash. “You bet. I don’t think you should try walking where we have to go while we’re like this. Pearce and I, we’ll carry you. We’ll take turns. We’ll have you right back ho—” he caught himself, “right back to the house.”
“Yeah, come on,” said Pearce, putting one of Megan’s arms around his shoulder and lifting her from the grass. “We’ll have you back before you know it.”
With Nash following closely, Pearce strode off with Megan back the way they came.
_______________
Once they had Megan back at the house, the twins morphed back to human, dressed, and put her to bed in the master suite. Megan climbed between the covers in just a T-shirt and panties, and there she rested while they prepared her a quick dinner. They warmed up the beef stew that was meant to be their shared meal at the table and brought a bowl up to her with a glass of ice water. They sat on either side of the bed while she ate, and they talked.
Nash ventured the troubling question, “Maybe…it’s us.”
“What do you mean?” asked Pearce.
“Maybe she’s reacting to…us. Look, I’ve heard about things like this. We’ve been at her non-stop for days now. Maybe this is some human reaction to us having her so much.”
“How could that be?” Megan asked, perplexed.
“We have really strong pheromones,” Nash explained. “Even when we’re like this, in our human bodies, when we’re doing it we give off pheromones stronger than a human does. It could be that.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Megan said. “I had a relationship with a lycan before and never had any kind of reaction like you’re talking about.”
“You were only sleeping with one of us before,” Pearce said, following his brother’s reasoning. “Maybe it makes a difference that you’re sleeping with two of us now.”
“Oh my God, could that really be it?” Megan wondered, glancing back and forth between them. “I hope that’s not it. I don’t want it to be that.”
“Neither do we,” said Nash.
“We probably ought to get you to a doctor, just to make sure,” said Pearce. “There’s a lycanthrope doctor at the clinic in town, someone who’d know about things like that. And anything else that it could be. We ought to get you checked out.”
Megan handed her bowl, empty of stew, to Nash, then leaned back her head against the pillows. “You’re right. I don’t want this to keep happening. Or get worse. And I just want to know what it is. But tomorrow—we’ll do it tomorrow. For now, I just want to get some rest. Some real, proper rest.”
“Yeah, you should. Things will look better tomorrow,” said Pearce. “We’ll get you looked at and you’ll be okay.”
“I know you will,” said Nash.
“And…” she looked tentatively at them, “…I think, maybe…tonight I’d like to sleep alone. And just…sleep. Do you mind?”
The brothers looked from Megan to each other. This evening, this night, had been nothing like what any of them had wanted it to be, and now it was ending under clouds of uncertainty—and no prospect of sex, unlike every other night since they arrived. But they silently agreed it was for the best.
“No, we don’t mind,” said Nash.
“You’re right; you should only sleep tonight,” said Pearce.
So each of the brothers kissed Megan good night. In spite of agreeing to let her only sleep, they could not help but kiss her with more than just a gentle peck. Pearce took her in his arms and kissed her long and deeply, and with a tenderness that surprised him; a kiss into which he poured more feeling than even he expected.
Nash embraced her next, with an identical kiss, a kiss of passion and concern and soulful warmth. Reluctantly, against what those kisses did to them down below in their jeans, Pearce and Nash left Megan alone in their master bed. She slid down beneath the sheets and curled up, inviting sleep to take her again—and they all hoped that it would be the rest she truly needed.
Lying in the Maguire brothers’ bed without them, Megan felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life, even more than when Andrew left her. Even knowing that to sleep alone was what she really needed, she wished she could be wrapped up in both of the twins right now, and once more have them on top of her in turn. She called back to mind the sensations of everything they’d done to her so wonderfully for the last few nights. And then, in her memory, a face came to her, emerging from the shadows.
Into the blackness she whispered the name: “Tate.”
Now it came back to her, what she had seen in the forest before she became unconscious and lay there until the brothers found her. It was what she had dreamed twice already, but this time outside, in the light of day. And she had been awake when it started—awake, or in some state between waking and sleeping.
“Tate.”
Megan called sleep to her—and hoped that it brought nothing with it.
_______________
“So, what do you think this means?” asked Nash in the kitchen. “Really—what?”
As they stood beside the dishwasher, Pearce said to his brother, “You tell me. What do you think? Is it really some kind of reaction she’s having to the two of us doing her together?”
“What if it is?” Nash asked.
Pearce shrugged. “What if it is?” he repeated.
“What if it means…what we talked about? What if it ends up that only one of us can have her? What then?”
“I don’t want to go there without facts,” said Pearce. “Until we know for sure what’s going on, I don’t want to go there.”
“What if we have to go there?”
“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything except something strange is going on. We can’t decide what we’re going to do ’til we know what the hell we’re doing it about. Until then, we don’t even know what the hell we’re talking about. I’m not talking about anything without even knowing what it is. It’s pointless.”
Pearce turned around, leaned with his hands against the countertop, and bowed his head. “There’s no point in it and I’m not going there now.” He did not show Nash his face. But Nash knew what he would find in his brother’s face, and in his eyes, if Pearce did look at him. He might as well be looking in a mirror.
“How did we get here anyway?” Pearce asked. “This was simple. We invited this woman up here to get her in bed and screw her brains out. That’s all. Fun for her, fun for us. Simple. Simple.” He shook his head. “How did we end up like this?”
Nash reached out and touched his brother’s shoulder. He held his hand there and rubbed softly, gently at Pearce, until at last Pearce looked up at him with the same expression that Nash himself wore; a look to which neither of them needed to put words.
The brothers drew into each other’s arms and hugged in a hard embrace, holding each other there for a long time.
_______________
Nash and Pearce retired to their separate bedrooms. As lycanthropes almost always did, whether they were sleeping alone or not, they climbed into bed naked—and neither of them could stay asleep. Both of them, in their respective beds, lay staring up through the dark and the gloom at the ceiling. Each of them, beneath his respective covers, wished he were instead looking down at Megan’s ecstatic, orgasmic face under him.
After lying alone with his worry and frustration—mostly worry—for a length of time he couldn’t tell, Nash finally decided he’d had enough. Perhaps he could get to sleep if he could just look in on her. That was all he wanted, perhaps just to crack open the door of the master suite long enough to look at her and listen for any sign that she was having another bad, frightening dream. And if she found herself as troubled in the night as he was, it might do no harm just to go to her and hold her. That was all, just hold her. That would be all right…
Doing his best to ignore what his other mind below his waist told him he’d like to do next, Nash climbed out of bed, heedless of his nakedness, and stepped out from his bedroom into the darkened hallway. He looked down the hall in the direction of the door to the master suite.
And at the other end of the hall, the door to Pearce’s room swung open and Pearce stepped out, as naked, worried, and frustrated as he. The two brothers locked eyes on each other from opposite sides o
f the corridor and traded bemused and sarcastic expressions. Twin minds were obviously thinking alike tonight.
On bare feet they walked towards each other, meeting at the door of the master suite, which they both expected to find closed. The open door defied their expectations.
At the threshold, they both looked inside at the bed. The empty bed, with covers pulled back—and Megan nowhere in sight. Eyes widened and jaws slack, they gaped first at the unoccupied room and then at each other.
As one, the Maguire twins blurted, “What the f…!”
CHAPTER TEN
Pearce and Nash’s hope that Megan had simply gotten out of bed to use the master bathroom was in vain. Running naked into the kitchen and the living room also turned up nothing—except the open door in the living room, leading out of the house and into the night.
