by Mikala Ash
He left me sitting there, crying. It all fell into place for me. Ricardo's death had not been an accident after all, the fiery car crash engineered to hide his wounds. Simon had been traveling when it happened, or so he'd led me to believe. Of course, he'd sneaked back and killed the man he thought had broken my heart.
I'd always suspected Simon had killed uncle, but had buried the suspicion deep in my mind. After all, I'd wished uncle dead enough times myself.
Simon was protecting me, just like he had a hundred years ago, punishing those who had hurt me.
Now he had Michael in his sights.
I had to do something.
* * * *
No matter what Michael thought of me, he was justified in thinking I had lied to him. The fact I'd done it with the best of motives, to protect my brother, was irrelevant. I'd lied to him, used him, and he would never forgive me.
His accusation that our night together had been nothing more than a one-night stand had cut deep into my heart. It was not true, no matter how it appeared. Michael was not merely a scratch to satisfy a persistent itch. I had let him into my heart. I had loved him, physically and spiritually. If only he could look into my heart and see the truth.
I had to accept the cruel reality. Misunderstanding or not, I had probably lost him. In time, I could deal with his jealousy over my stockbroker adventure; maybe I could even convince him it was not what he thought. His anger at my lying to him about Simon, however, was insurmountable.
Still, I couldn't let Simon hurt him because I'd fucked up.
I rang the station and was told Michael was unavailable. I went to his apartment but he wasn't there either. I went to the Gardens and the Opera House. As the sun set and the moon rose, panic stirred in my belly.
I rushed back home and found them in the garden.
Oh God.
Simon was in wolfen form. Michael was lying prone beneath him, unconscious and in an ever spreading pool of blood.
"Leave him, Sim. He's mine."
Simon gazed back at me and growled. His lips curled back, blood glistening on his razor sharp teeth.
I ripped open my loose fitting tunic and willed myself into wolfen form. I do it so rarely the rearranging of my bones and sinews sent spears of agony jabbing through my body.
I growled in pain and anger.
If it came to a fight I'd be no match for my brother. He is sleek and muscular, an alpha male by any description. But I would fight him if I had to.
He snarled back at me.
I had to act quickly. Michael was bleeding to death. I could see his throat had been torn open, his blood was bubbling in the wound. At least his heart was still pumping.
Something was glinting on the tiles beside his body—Michael's gun.
Simon growled and, in a flash, he gripped Michael by the shoulder and dragged him away into the darkness. He was heading down the path towards our boatshed.
I quickly reverted to human form and picked up the gun.
"Sim!” I shouted and followed him into the darkness.
I had to be quick. The blood trail down the darkened path was easy to follow. Simon had dropped Michael outside the door to the boathouse and I almost tripped over his body. I fell to my knees beside him.
"Michael?"
He still lived! His throat was bubbling blood. I had only a few moments to save his life and there was only one way to do it. I bit into my wrist until the blood blossomed into my mouth.
"What are you doing?” Simon yelled from inside the door of the boatshed.
I didn't look up, concentrating on getting the blood directly into Michael's wound. I noticed the bubbling in his throat had ceased all together. I felt his chest with my other hand and could not feel it beating. I pushed down hard. I had to keep his heart beating. I had to keep his heart beating no matter what. The moment it ceased, no amount of my blood healing the torn arteries would help him.
"I won't let him die!"
"Why? He hurt you. He's hunting me!"
"I love him and he trusted me. He loved me."
Simon growled in frustration. “He's my kill.” His voice was closer now, his scent growing stronger. “I won't let you take him from me like you did the other one."
"Listen to yourself. You need to think about what you're doing. You wanted to stop, remember."
"I've decided not to."
I stared into the darkness. I was getting lightheaded from my own blood loss and the effort I was making keeping Michael's heart beating. He hadn't stirred yet. Come on! Live!
"You can't have him,” I shouted at Simon. “I've already turned him. He's mine."
"Don't lie to me, Just."
Michael's body shuddered. His back arched in a mighty convulsion which sent me flying into the garden. Thank God!
"Fuck you, Just! Fuck you!"
There was a moment's silence then the sound of Simon's running steps on the dock filled the silent night.
"Simon! Come back!"
I cradled Michael's shuddering body in my lap as he roared into his new life. He convulsed violently again and pushed my petite body out of the way. He was changing into his wolfen form, his body transforming at a cellular level. My blood had healed his neck and was now multiplying in his veins, doubling in number every moment. By now my blood would have seeped into his brain and his new consciousness would be dawning, the wolfen mind stretching out and exploring its new body, testing every cell, sinew and muscle.
I remembered my own awakening. It is a primal moment. A feral moment: fear, terror, incomprehension, anger and lust are the only things Michael is feeling right now.
The transition to wolfen form after it began took only a few moments to complete. Michael was a beautiful looking wolf. His glossy new coat was silky soft and shimmered in the pale light of the moon.
He opened his werewolf eyes and considered me for a moment. I hoped he recognized me. His feral mind would be searching his memories and with any luck he'd find me pretty quickly. I hoped he would remember he once loved me.
To be safe, I changed to my wolfen form. Afraid of what might happen in the next moment. I was his master. I created him. He had to obey me, though he didn't know it yet. I had to express my dominance and I had to do it quickly.
I growled at him, baring my teeth, standing muzzle close to him.
He growled back at me, his ears lying flat against his skull. His eyes drilled into me. I snapped at him. He sniffed the air, and I hoped my scent was communicating my dominance.
From the harbor a motorboat roared into life, the sound of the engine only slightly muffled by the boatshed separating us from the dock.
Michael flicked his gaze in the direction of the water and growled. He glanced back to me and his glowing eyes softened and his lips covered his teeth. I imagined his tortured mind putting together the facts. I was impressed he could think logically, still maintaining his human psyche despite the physical change he had undergone.
Suddenly, he leapt away from me and darted down the path to the boathouse.
Shit. He was still the dogberry doing his duty. He was going to get his man.
I was afraid Michael, in his nascent state, would be no match for an experienced werewolf like Simon, a wolfen used to killing. Wolfen fights are savage beyond belief, and as inexperienced as he was, Michael could still injure Simon. My gut tightened in fear.
I returned to my frail human form and snatched up Michael's gun. I dashed down the path and into the darkened boathouse.
The boat had just pulled out from the dock. Simon was at the wheel in human form, apparently unaware Michael was racing down the length of the dock after him. His strides were lengthening as he prepared to leap towards the boat.
I ran, though my chances of catching up are more than hopeless because I'm chasing a werewolf.
He's swift and sleek. I love him so much I'd do anything to protect him.
I'd even kill.
I stop. I take aim. I fire.
* * * *
&
nbsp; I traced Michael's jaw line with my fingertip. His eyes fluttered open. The first thing he did when his deep blue eyes focused on mine was to smile. Then he winced and felt his head.
"I suggest you call in sick,” I said, wanting to kiss the corners of his mouth.
Michael gazed at my naked breasts.
"I feel funny. I ache all over, and my head hurts."
"You fell."
"I fell?"
He clearly did not remember. Memories would come later.
My memories, though, had plagued me as I nursed my lovely dogberry through the long night.
The moment before I fired the gun, Michael had leapt off the dock. He landed on the aft deck just as Simon had peeled the boat away into the harbor. The bullet grazed Michael's head and lodged in my brother's shoulder. Michael didn't remember tumbling unconscious into the water, nor my frantic attempt at rescue. He didn't remember Simon circling back and despite his injuries, lifting him into the boat and bringing him back to the dock.
He didn't remember Simon gazing down at his unconscious body, studying the head wound; or, when Simon had stared at me with hurt suspicion in his eyes, wincing at his bleeding shoulder. Michael didn't yet remember Simon saying he wouldn't ask me who the bullet was meant for and then swearing if Michael ever hurt me he would rip out his throat.
"We were dancing on the dock,” I said, promising to myself I would tell him the truth when he recovered.
"I don't dance."
"I can tell.” I gave him the phone. “I want you to call in sick. You will stay here with me to recover."
"You're that good for my health?"
"Of course.” I kissed the nearest corner of his mouth. “And as a reward, I'll tell you all want to know about me, and more."
I saw in his eyes when he recalled part of who and what he was: a human dogberry. I wondered how he would respond to his new wolfen state. “I can't just call in sick. I'm in the middle of a murder investigation."
I studied his beautiful blue eyes. I was grateful he had for the time being forgotten his suspicions of Simon, the confrontation and the attack. By the time he remembered, he'd have bigger things to consider, like eternity, and I wondered if he would like the idea of spending it with me. “Those dogberries can handle it for a day or two, surely."
"Well, I guess."
Simon had fled. The wolfen network was on his trail as well now, and I expected him to disappear—maybe to return in a few decades, maybe not. The network can be ruthless and Simon may have attracted too much attention for their liking. Michael may wish to track Simon down, or he may not. I somehow think he will. He's that sort of man.
A smile suddenly broke across his face. “I know why you slept with me,” he said triumphantly.
"Well, my dogberry, tell me why?"
"Because I didn't let Macbeth off the hook."
I touched his lips with my finger and he kissed the tip.
"Close,” I whispered.
He frowned, thinking hard and his smile returned, though this time a little uncertainly. His nose twitched as if he was smelling the air for the first time. My dominant pheromones would be telling him who and what I was. He was starting to realize what I'd done to him. He gripped my hand tightly in his. “Then, it's because we both agree life is far too short."
I nodded. “Absolutely correct, my dear dogberry.” I kissed him quickly. “Now, get some rest. When you're fit, there's another Shakespeare opening at the Opera House."
"Which one?"
I kissed him again on the lips, a lingering one this time. “Much Ado About Nothing."
About the Author
Mikala Ash lives on a beach in Australia overlooking the beautiful Pacific Ocean with her faithful Border Collie, Ricky.
Management Consultant by day, after the sun goes down, Mikala becomes a creature of the night, well, in her imagination anyway; bent over the keyboard till the small wee hours.
Writing is a passion that cannot be denied, she says.
Mikala can be contacted through her blog: mikalaash.blogspot.com or via [email protected].
Spicy, sensual love stories which leave a reader breathless, intense plots, alpha males, strong heroines and sizzling dialogue—find it all at Whispers!
www.whispershome.com
Coming October 5, 2007
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