Shades of Werewolf

by T. S. Ryder

  Andre opened his eyes again. He tried to smile at Mary. Tears coursed down her plump cheeks, and he longed to wipe them away. But the cigarette lighter was ready, and he didn't want it to cool. This was going to be painful enough without having to do it twice.

  Zoe dead. Her contact information gone. They could return to the strip club where Andre first met her, but that was too close to the werewolf community that Mary grew up in, and there was no assurance that they would meet any other Bears there.

  What were they going to do now?

  ***

  There had been a first aid kit in the trunk of the car, along with several blankets. For once, Mary was grateful for the harsh winter conditions in the Rocky Mountains that made such precautions necessary for everybody who drove anywhere when snow was on the ground.

  They stopped at a rest area, and luckily found toilets with running water instead of outhouses. Andre stayed in the car, a blanket tucked around his chin to hide his bloody clothes while Mary slipped into the bathroom and washed and bandaged her neck before ripping a hole in the middle of one of the blankets to wear.

  When she returned to the car, Andre held a small black cell phone in his hands. He stared at it with a hungry, frustrated expression.

  "It was Zoe's," he muttered. "But there aren't any contacts or a phone log in it."

  "Maybe somebody will phone us," she said. If they don't, what will we do?

  "Maybe."

  ***

  Though neither of them felt secure about it, they decided to spend the night in a cheap motel in a tiny town. Mary needed rest, and Andre was in no shape to drive. They needed space to properly take care of their injuries, anyway.

  The town was nothing more than the motel, a bar, a gas station, and a convenience store that doubled as a grocery store and pharmacy. It also sold a small selection of clothing, and Mary bought two t-shirts in their largest sizes.

  She helped Andre into the motel, glad that nobody was around to see the state he was in. She quickly returned to the car and flipped a blanket over the blood-stained seat, and slipped back to Andre.

  The shirt was too tight on Mary, pushing her breasts flat and stretching over her stomach, making her curvy body look more like a pumpkin than the hourglass it was. She didn't care, as long as she was covered. Her blanket would serve better as a skirt than a dress, at least.

  "We have to do something about that knee," she said, not looking at his face as she wrapped fresh bandages around his shoulder.

  He was no longer bleeding, but she couldn't imagine the pain he was in. She helped him tug the shirt into place. It was snug on him, almost too tight. There would be no hiding his blood-soaked pants, no matter how hard she scrubbed them.

  "No pants right now," he panted. A sickly sheen covered his face.

  Mary bit her lip and blinked back tears.

  Hot hands closed around hers. "Mary. I'm going to be fine."

  She let out a shaky breath. "I know. I know you are. It's just… so much has happened…"

  All she wanted was for him to hold her in his arms and never let go. For him to tell her that she didn't have a choice, that she did the right thing. But the question she wanted to ask kept getting stuck in her throat and she didn't know what to do.

  "Andre…"

  "You need to go Mary."

  Shock rippled through her. "Wh-what?"

  Did he blame her for what had happened? Or worse–did he want her to leave so that he could face her family, when they found him, on his own? But he couldn't! He would die.

  "I need to take the bullet from my knee." He pressed a kiss to her palm. "I don't want you to watch."

  Her stomach twisted, and just the thought of what he was about to do made bile rise in her throat. She met his eyes, and he smiled as he held up his hunting knife. His gaze was steady and confident, and she knew that she couldn't argue with him.

  "I'm going back to the drugstore," she said. "How long should I be gone?"

  "Try for an hour."

  She felt lightheaded and nodded.

  Andre caught her hand as she stood. "I love you."

  It was difficult to smile at him, but she somehow made it. "I love you, too."

  Chapter Twenty One

  Mary ran through the forest, enjoying the earth beneath her paws. She listened to the birds in the trees. Her ears rotated as she tried to pinpoint them, but the sound was gone before she could get a grasp of what sort of bird they were. She let it go, relishing the freedom of being able to embrace her Wolf and forget about all the housework that needed to be done.

  Suddenly she became aware of a shadow running next to her. Her heart leapt to her throat and she spun around. A huge grey Wolf stood before her, blue eyes narrowed at her, teeth curled back into a snarl.

  Papa?

  The Wolf howled, throwing back its head. Then a gunshot rang out and Mary felt the kickback in her ribcage. The gun was in her hands, black smoke billowing from it.

  Her father lay on the ground, blood gushing from his wounds. His head lifted. His eyes met hers.

  "Why, Chipmunk? Why?"

  ***

  Mary jerked awake, her body shaking with sobs. Hands sought her out in the darkness and she pushed them away. Her throat felt raw like she had been screaming in her sleep, and she swung out of bed. He was going to kill Andre. I didn't have a choice.

  Or had there been a choice? If she had tried to talk to him, explain the situation–What if he had come after them thinking that Andre had taken her as a prisoner? Who knew what he believed Andre had done to her before? What if he had come alone because he saw that she was gone? What if he had tracked her until he could scent the Bear with her and was so worried for her safety that he didn't go back for any help?

  She stumbled over the clothes she had left on the floor when they had gone to bed. The tile in the bathroom was cool and smooth on her naked body as she lay down on it. Her stomach churned, threatening to expel its contents at any moment. Her forehead felt feverish, and she pressed it to the floor, closing her eyes.

  A hand touched her shoulder and she looked up, gasping and choking back her tears. Andre knelt beside her, soundlessly taking her into his arms. Their skin pressed together, warming her.

  She clung to him. His warmth, his solidness, it reminded her of why she had needed to act. If she had hesitated a moment longer than she had, he'd be dead.

  Paul had fired three times. She should have acted before she did–maybe that was what scared her the most. She had killed her father, but she had almost let her father kill her soulmate before she did.

  "Andre," she whispered, leaning against him.

  She buried her face into his uninjured shoulder, inhaling the faint woodsy scent that still clung to his skin under the scent of cheap soap and hydrogen peroxide.

  "When I was a little girl he would call me Chipmunk. I thought it was a cute nickname. Until I realized it meant he thought I was fat. Then I stopped letting him call me Chipmunk. That was around when Julia was born and Mother got so sick. Everything changed then."

  His warm hand stroked her black hair. "You couldn’t have done anything else, Mary. He would have killed you, too."

  Mary cringed from the words and shook her head. "No. He wouldn't have killed me. He still loved me."

  There was such sorrow in Andre's eyes she wished she hadn't looked at him. He opened his mouth and a stab of panic seized her. Whatever he was going to say, she didn't want to hear it. She pushed herself to her knees, bringing her hand to his mouth, silencing him.

  He was still for a moment, then his massive hand cupped her skull and brought her closer. It wasn't close enough, and she straddled his hips, squeezing his thighs with hers. Her Wolf demanded more, hungry for the taste of his skin and she moved her mouth to his neck, teeth scraping his throat and clavicle, careful to avoid the bandages. Heat simmered under her skin, a welcome distraction.

  "Lie down," she ordered.

  His black eyes gazed up at her tenderly as he obeyed.
Mary ran her hands down his smooth, sculpted torso, letting herself get lost in the warmth of his skin and the feel of the strong muscles under her fingertips. This was what she needed, a distraction from her tormented thoughts and the memories of her father.

  She found him with her hand while she bent over and took one of his nipples between her teeth. She closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth of his body; the familiar fireworks of skin on skin were missing, but she pressed on, imagining their coupling. She had to erase the day from her mind!

  His body was all too willing to respond to her movements, responding rapidly as she ground against him. She pressed down on him, craving, needing more. Her core tightened as she did so, tremors starting to pool within her.

  Andre groaned and she froze. Panic gripped her and she jerked back from him. His uninjured arm grasped her hip before she could roll off him, his fingers digging into her smooth, soft flesh. He shook his head rapidly.

  "Don't stop."

  "But I'm hurting you." Mary nearly choked. "I don't want to hurt you."

  His hand moved to her face, pressing against her lips. His black eyes were tender and warm, his brown hair spread out over the floor like a halo. "You won't hurt me, Mary."

  "But what if I do?"

  "I'll let you know if it's too much." His hand moved to her breast. "I need this, Mary. I need to know…"

  She leaned into his touch. "Know what?"

  "That you forgive me."

  "For what?"

  Andre's expression was ancient. "Your father. He treated your terribly and he didn't deserve your love, but I know you loved him anyway. Your heart is just so good. I hate that I'm the one that made this happen."

  Tears threatened, but Mary shook her head. "You weren't the one who made this happen. It was him. It was only him."

  She began moving again. His fingers were strong and probing as she leaned into him, her breast pressing itself into his palm. The second hand, the one with the injured shoulder, brushed her mouth, moving sluggishly. She took the fingers into her mouth and sucked gently while she guided him to enter her.

  Something desperate moved between them, something animal. Mary grabbed both Andre's wrists, digging her nails into his skin as she pinned them to the floor above his head. Her mouth crushed against his, demanding entrance. When his lips parted, her tongue darted in, claiming the space as her own. Heat burned between them. His Bear called her Wolf and she threw herself in with reckless abandon.

  Their bodies pulsed together, and Andre suddenly ripped his arms from her grasp. He wound his arms around her and they were spinning. They rolled twice until she was beneath him and he thrust hard, bringing her knees high onto his hips. She clung to him, letting the flood of pleasure drown her thoughts.

  ***

  "I knew we shouldn't have been so rough last night." Mary frowned at the slight bruises on her hips and then the bandages on Andre's abdomen, which were showing spots of blood.

  Andre shrugged his uninjured shoulder, smiling at her. Perhaps it had been a little hard on his injuries–his knee throbbed, and whenever he tried to move his injured arm, bolts of white-hot pain blinded him, but Mary's eyes were not so haunted this morning. They were still full of grief and sorrow, but both Bear and Wolf had reaffirmed that they were alive, and she had slept with no more nightmares after they had made love. That was enough for now.

  "I think it was worth it," he said, then winced as a jolt went down his arm. "Besides, getting the blood pumping only means I'll heal faster, right?"

  "No, it means that you've reopened all your wounds." Mary shook her head. "I don't even want to think what you've done to that knee! You'll never walk again."

  "I'll walk well enough." The truth was he didn't know. When he took the bullet out, he'd had to remove several bone chips as well. Bears healed quickly. The wound in his abdomen should be gone in a couple days. But did they regrow bone? "And how's your neck?"

  "I wasn't the one thrashing around."

  Andre smirked. "You did some pretty good thrashing."

  Mary shook her head as she dressed in the tight shirt and blanket skirt. "I'm going to the store to get you some pain killers."

  "I’ll come too. Then we can get out of here faster."

  He made to push himself off the bed. Agony shot through his body and he fell back, groaning. Mary put a hand on his forehead, brow crinkled, her long green eyes narrowed in worry. Andre wanted to reassure her that it wasn't that bad, but she was far too clever to believe such an obvious lie. Instead, he offered her a weak smile.

  "You are going to lay here and rest until I get back." She swooped down and seized his clothes. "Here! Get dressed if you can, so that you're ready to leave when I get back."

  "Very well," he sighed.

  Mary pressed a kiss to his lips. Fireworks shimmered under his skin and it took far more strength to let the kiss break than it did to raise himself to follow the kiss as she backed away.

  "I'll be back quickly," she promised.

  Andre sighed as he looked at his clothes. He was not looking forward to trying to manipulate his limbs into them. It would be so much easier if he could just embrace his Bear and not worry about clothes! But there wasn't room in the tiny two-door car for the grizzly he would become if he did that. Besides, they would draw too much attention.

  A soft, jazzy sort of music filled the room. Instantly his gaze fell upon Zoe's cell phone, sitting on the nightstand. A sharp jolt made him grit his teeth as he lunged for it, but he pushed the pain aside. He scrambled for the phone, stabbing the tiny buttons with his huge finger. The call connected.

  "There is a possibility that the Locke family Wolves have gotten the information about Andre Mitchel's next place of contact with more Bears," he said at once. He didn't want anybody else to be killed by walking into a trap. In a slightly slower voice, he added, "I'm Andre Mitchel. We were attacked by Paul Locke when we were meeting Zoe. Locke is dead but he killed Zoe. We need to know where we can go next. The Wolves will be hunting us."

  There was a moment's silence, and then a click. The buzz of an empty phone line echoed around the motel room.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  A hand grabbed Mary's arm when she stepped from the convenience store. She yelped, jerking back instinctively. She broke free, inhaling to scream. Then she saw who it was. The color drained from her face.

  "Peter?" Her brother, younger than her by a year stood in front of her. How had he found her?

  He reached for her again and she swatted his hand away. "Mary, don’t be childish. You have to come with me, now!"

  "I don't think so," she glanced around, looking for any other Wolves from her community.

  Andre! If Peter was here, who could be closing in on Andre? He was injured, he wouldn't be able to defend himself. Heart in her throat, Mary bolted for her car.

  Peter caught her around the waist and hauled her back. Mary cried out in protest, but Peter continued trying to drag her towards his truck.

  "Let me go this instant, Peter Locke!"

  He released her.

  Mary turned on him. "Who else is with you?"

  "Nobody."

  How long did they have before they got there?

  Peter grasped her shoulders. "Your Bear killed Father! We found his body and smelled that Bear all around. We will not stand for the murder of one of our own, you know that. It won't be long before the others find him and if you're still with him, I won't be able to protect you."

  The others didn't know where they were yet. Mary closed her eyes. Thank Luna! They had time to get out of here. She shoved at Peter, ignoring his protests, and headed for the car.

  "Mary!" He grabbed her arm again, wrenching her to a stop. "Didn't you hear me? He killed Father!"

  She glared at her brother coldly. Looking at him, her shoulder aching from Paul's attack and Peter's repeated yanks on her arm only solidified in her mind that what she had done was right. Who knew what Paul would have done to punish her! He probably was going to kill
her.

  "Father treated me as if I was a servant. No. Like a slave. You know exactly what he was like. If supper wasn't on the table right when he was ready, or if it wasn't hot enough for him, he'd burn my books. And if there was a speck of dirt on the floor, even in spring when everybody tracked in mud–everybody but me because I was always so busy I rarely could leave the house!"

  Peter shook his head. His green eyes narrowed and his fingers dug painfully into her arm. "You said that you weren't sure if you could forgive the Bear for hurting Julia and she's fine now. So how can you forgive him for killing Father?"

  "Because he didn't kill Father. I did." Mary's voice was a hiss.

  Her brother's eyes widened and he let go, backing up a step. His face went from red to white in a matter of seconds. He shook his head. "No. No, you're just protecting him."

  "I was protecting him. Father was going to kill him. He was going to kill me too! Why should I mourn the man that was trying to take my life from me?" She advanced a step, causing Peter to fall back again. "I was defending myself and my soulmate. Father was the one who started it."

  Peter closed his eyes, shaking his head. He turned away, wiping his mouth with a trembling hand. Mary watched him impassively. A wind picked up, cold for the spring, bringing with it the scent of rain. The clouds overhead were dark and ominous. Good. Rain would mean the Wolves would have a harder time tracking them.

  A bitter taste rose in her mouth as the question surfaced–how did Paul know where to find them in the first place? Nobody knew where she was going. Nobody except Peter.

  "You told him, didn't you?"

  Peter tensed.

  "You told him that I was leaving to go back to Andre. Did you tell him that Andre was my soulmate, or did you make it out like Andre had brainwashed me?"

  "I didn't tell him anything."

  "How else would he find us, Peter?" Mary's hands clenched. She didn't want to believe it, but what other explanation was there? Knowing her brother had betrayed her trust hurt her worse than Paul's teeth piercing her skin.