by R. J. Blain
When Wendy and Frank arrived, they glared at me. My mate’s mother sighed, dumping an armload of towels on one of the benches lining the walls.
“What happened?” Frank kicked off his boots and sat beside me, dunking his feet in the water.
“Looked like he was taking a look at the spring when the ice shelf broke beneath him and dumped him in. The banks were covered in claw marks where he tried to climb out,” Desmond reported, giving my ears a brisk rub. “When I found him, he was pawing at the ice and whining, probably trying to decide whether to just drown or start howling his head off. I startled him and he went under. I had to dive in to save his fuzzy ass.”
Warbling protests at Desmond’s descriptions, I crawled out of the water and sprawled across Frank’s lap, stretching out so my head rested on the tiles. I basked in the comfort of being close to my Second, closing my eyes to savor his annoyance and the fainter warmth of his affection.
Frank sighed. “Great. Now I’m going to need a change of clothes. Richard, couldn’t you at least shake off first?”
Frank’s cell was in his back pocket; I stole with a careful application of teeth, offering it to Wendy, who took it with a grin. Once satisfied I wasn’t going to ruin anything important, I warbled, got up, and pounced on my Second from behind, shoving him into the pool. I went in with him, sending a wave of water cascading in Desmond’s direction.
“Damn it, Richard!” my Second yowled.
Scrambling out of the pool, I flicked my tail at the two men in the water, grabbed a towel in my jaws, and sat in front of Wendy.
Laughing, she took it and draped it across my back. “Shake,” she ordered. “You’re really something, Richard.”
I enjoyed Wendy’s attention almost as much as my wolf did. When she finished getting most of the water out of my coat, I trotted off in search of my mate. I found her sitting in the next room playing with her phone.
Under the pretense of summoning her, I lured her to the spring. My mate’s mother met my gaze, subtly gesturing to her daughter’s cell. With a wolfish grin, I waited for my accomplice to snatch the device and toss it onto the nearby towels.
I could have just shoved my mate in, but the lure of nailing them both was too great to ignore. My mate shrieked as she tumbled in.
“Traitor!” Wendy cried out, snatching handfuls of my fur to drag me in with her. I went willingly, mock growling as I swam for Desmond and Frank to romp with them in the water.
“Richard, I’m going to kill you for this,” my mate hissed. Delighting in having captured her attention, I let her chase me around the pool. When she caught me, she wrapped her arms around my chest and back, using her weight to dunk me in the warm waters.
When she was satisfied, my mate laughed, rubbed my ears, and climbed out of the spring. “Silly wolf.”
I breathed in her scent. The usual bitterness of annoyance was gone, replaced by the sweeter tones of her pleasure. I perked my ears and followed her, delighting in the fact that I, unexpectedly, had made my mate happy.
Breaking Point
Everyone has a breaking point, and Nicolina Desmond is no different. When her father crosses the line one too any times, an impulse decision results in her teaming up with Richard Murphy for some good old-fashioned payback. The only problem? Their opponents are three of North America’s most dangerous wolves and the entirety of Richard’s pack.
Something woke me in the middle of the night, and too anxious to fall back asleep, I got up, wandering in the direction of the kitchen.
Richard stood in the bathroom doorway, his white dress shirt splotched with red. Pain glazed his eyes. I winced at the blood splattered on the tiles. He didn’t make a sound, which worried me almost as much as the fact he had bled all over the place changing from wolf to man.
Fenerec weren’t supposed to bleed when they transformed.
“Richard?” I whispered. When he didn’t reply or acknowledge my presence, I spun around and headed to the room my parents were sharing, tapping on the door before letting myself in.
It took me several moments to find the light switch. My father groaned and burrowed under the blankets while my mother blinked at me, yawning.
“Nicolina?”
I pointed in Richard’s direction. “Richard bled all over the bathroom floor,” I announced.
Normally, my father spewed curses, but my mother snarled a chain of them, threw off the blankets, and jumped out of bed. “Charles, up!”
My father groaned, remaining hidden under the blankets.
Fenerec were strong, and my mother was no exception. She grabbed hold of the mattress and dumped my father onto the floor. He landed with a thump and a startled yelp. “Charles.”
“I’m up,” my father muttered, kneeling beside the bed. “What’s going on?”
I sighed, stepped out of the doorway so I wouldn’t get flattened when my parents finished gathering their wits, and once again pointed in Richard’s direction. “Richard bled all over the bathroom floor.”
My mother beat my father out the door, though he followed right on her heels. Even when my mother touched Richard’s throat, he didn’t respond.
“Go wake Frank,” she ordered, moving aside to make room for my father.
I didn’t bother with knocking on the Fenerec’s door. Since I couldn’t lift the mattress like my mother could, I grabbed the edge of the comforter, drew a deep breath, and yanked it off Frank. He woke with a startled cry, his eyes blazing wolf-yellow.
Backing out of the room, I retreated to my mother, wincing at Frank’s incoherent growls. I hid behind my mother as Richard’s Second stalked after me.
“You could have just knocked,” my mother informed me, shaking her head.
Squeaking as Frank drew closer, I replied, “Faster. Sorry.”
“Frank, check Richard,” my mother snapped, fixing her gaze on the ground.
“Looks like it was a bad change,” my father added. “Nicolina, there should be rags and cleaning supplies in the closet.”
“I’ll get it; she’s dealt with enough blood for this year,” my mother said, pushing me in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll clean the mess. You get out the orange juice. Check the freezer and see what they stocked in meat. Find something that can be made into soup. It might be the only way we get something into him at this point.”
I hesitated, glancing at Richard and my father. While Yellowknife’s Alpha was still on his feet, he leaned heavily against my father while Frank checked his pulse. “What’s wrong with him?”
“The orange juice, Nicolina,” my mother growled.
My father sighed. “There’s no need to snap at her or panic, Wendy. It’s probably blood loss. He’s stubborn, and it’s considered embarrassing to need help through transformations. He’ll be fine, once we get some food in him and make sure he doesn’t try to change again.”
I nodded and headed for the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator. Grabbing the jug of juice, I thunked it on the counter before sliding open the freezer. Packages wrapped in brown paper waited for me. Instead of normal meats, rabbit, deer, moose, and an assortment of other game filled the drawer. Of them, the only one I knew how to cook was the rabbit. In true Fenerec fashion, they had stocked the freezer with whole or chunks of carcasses instead of smaller cuts.
At least the rabbit had been cleaned and skinned before it had been frozen.
Frank ended up helping Richard to the couch while my father grabbed the orange juice, pausing to kiss my forehead. “Good job, girl. Mind making some coffee? We’re going to need it, I think.”
“Sure, no problem,” I replied, hesitating while I wondered why I even cared. Richard was an adult; he was supposed to be able to take care of himself. I had to jump to reach the coffee grinds in the cupboard. “I don’t understand. I thought changing was supposed to help his neck heal.”
“It should. Of course, that assumes he’s eating properly, which he isn’t.” Pouring a glass of juice, my father took it into the other room.
“It’s one thing after another with him, Frank. Is he like this all the time?”
Frank snorted. “Do you think we’d let him leave Yellowknife at all if this was normal? You cursed him, Desmond. No, this isn’t normal, not even for him.”
“I’ll be fine,” Richard mumbled.
“Nicolina is going to make you something to eat, and so help me, Richard, you’re going to eat it,” Frank growled. “You’ll also drink this juice, and you will do so without complaint. You don’t mind cooking, do you, Nicolina?”
“If I minded, I wouldn’t be doing it,” I grumbled, digging through the fridge for vegetables. “He’ll owe me for this, I assure you. I’ve always wanted a slave of my own.”
“If you get him to eat, you’re welcome to him,” Richard’s Second replied. “Maybe you should have let him drown at the springs, Desmond.”
Chuckling, my father returned to the kitchen, digging out mugs for coffee. “You’re just cranky he changed without you noticing again, Frank.”
“I didn’t think it would be that bad.” Richard groaned, stretching his legs out as he sprawled on the couch. “Sorry, Frank.”
“You should have asked for help.”
My mother poked her head out of the bathroom. “The only reason I’m not skinning you for this, Richard, is that you had the sense to bleed all over the tile instead of the hardwood.”
Shaking my head at the nonchalant way my father and Frank were handling Richard’s bleeding all over the place, I dug out a pot to cook the vegetables while thawing the rabbit in the microwave.
“Dinner for breakfast. I could get used to this idea. Maybe I should start letting you pay off your rent with your cooking,” my father said, stealing a piece of carrot.
“Unless you’re donating your kidney for pie, get the hell out of my kitchen,” I snarled, feinting at him with the chef’s knife. “You owe me for making me share a room with Richard at the hotel.”
“That is up for negotiation,” he retorted, although he did retreat out of my reach. “If you aren’t nice to me, you won’t get any compensation at all.”
“Why are you being so ruthless?” I snapped. “You will compensate me fairly.”
My mother laughed from the bathroom. “I’m pretty sure she gets it from you, Charles.”
“That’s right, blame me again. I see how this is. You women are ganging up on me.”
“You don’t have to,” Richard protested through several yawns. “I’m not hungry.”
I set the knife down so I wouldn’t throw it at him. “Shut up, Richard. You’re hungry and you’re going to eat. It’s not even five in the morning, I’m awake, and if you even think about putting up a fight, you will live to regret it.”
Richard growled. “Is that so?”
“I’m sure my father and Frank would be happy to hold you down while I forced it down your throat. Mom can take pictures.”
“She definitely gets it from you,” my mother said, emerging from the bathroom. “I would never come up with such a plan.”
“I’m not hungry,” Richard repeated.
In my sweetest voice, I asked, “Daddy, may I borrow your phone for a minute?” I held out my hand. After staring at me for a long moment, he complied. I scrolled through his contacts. “Let’s see. This contact lists one Alex Murphy. Oh, this one says Topside. I know what that number does. If I call them, how annoyed do you think they’ll be that I woke them up?”
Richard stared at me with wide eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would,” I assured him. “You will agree to quietly eat what I feed you, or I’ll begin with calling your brother. The keyword here is begin. I absolutely refuse to be anywhere near a cranky, hungry Fenerec. If you put up a fight, I’ll have you tied to the roof of the car. Maybe if my father’s being nice, he’ll let me shoot you first.”
“No murders,” my mother chided.
Selecting Alex’s contact, I hovered my finger over the button to connect the call. “What’ll it be, punk?”
“Fine,” he grumbled, growling something under his breath.
“Good. I’m so glad we could see eye to eye on this matter.” I set my father’s cell down on the counter, turning my attention back to figuring out just how to turn a half-frozen rabbit carcass into something tolerably edible.
There was a fine line between edible and ruined, and I toed it. For a fleeting moment, I considered dumping the whole thing out instead of inflicting it on anyone, Richard included. I sighed, shaking my head.
The next time anyone asked me to cook at five in the morning, the answer was going to be no. Not only would it be no, I would enforce it with a kick to the shins. If it weren’t for the fact I was already stuck in the middle of nowhere Canada, I would’ve given up and gone home. I wondered if I could catch a bus headed to the United States.
Maybe my father and mother would be so focused on Richard and his continued efforts to kill himself they wouldn’t notice I was gone. If I made a run for it, I would have to make sure I got away without anyone catching me.
“It’s done,” I grumbled, glaring at the steaming pot.
I could’ve done a lot better, which pissed me off almost as much as having to cook for Richard Murphy before the sun was up.
Picking me up by the waist, my father spun me around and deposited me outside of the kitchen. “You’re adorable when you’re cranky.”
“You want to die, don’t you?” I snarled.
“She definitely gets that from you,” my mother declared before patting the couch cushion beside her. “Come sit, Nicolina.”
The problem with where she wanted me to sit was the fact it was beside the source of my annoyance. Richard was too focused on his laptop to notice me glaring at him.
Frank chuckled. “That’s like pouring water on flaming oil, Wendy.”
“I’m going back to bed,” I declared. I made it two steps before my father snagged my shirt by the collar and pulled me back. “Dad!”
“You’ll eat breakfast and get your things ready to put in the car so we can leave. We’re all up, so we may as well hit the road. If you want to sleep, take the back seat and use Richard as a pillow.”
Richard glanced up at his name and asked, “Do what?”
“I was offering your services to my daughter,” my father replied.
“My what?” Richard demanded, sitting straighter and closing his laptop.
I bowed my head, drew a deep breath, and contemplated mass homicide.
“If you stopped getting so riled up, Nicolina, your father wouldn’t enjoy pulling your tail so much,” my mother said. “We’ll stop somewhere on the way and get you a breakfast you’ll actually like. If you fall asleep now, you won’t get back up, and should that happen, I can’t promise that your father won’t force Richard to be the one to carry you to the car.”
“You hate me, don’t you?” I whispered. “Both of you hate me.”
“Don’t worry, Nicolina. If you do fall asleep and refuse to get up, I’ll carry you out to the car,” Frank said with laughter in his voice. “I’ll protect what little dignity you have left.”
Making a run for it was sounding better and better. The bedroom I had claimed as mine had a window, one not too far from the ground. The only problem would be reaching civilization and figuring out how to get back to Seattle without anyone catching me.
It was at least a thirty minute drive from the cabin to the town, although my father had been driving slow due to icy roads.
“You are all despicable,” I hissed through clenched teeth, pulling free of my father’s grip to storm to my bedroom. I slammed the door behind me, swallowing back my urge to scream my frustration.
Even if I did give them the slip, I was too young to rent a car, and I doubted a bus terminal would sell me a ticket even if I whipped out a credit card to pay for it. Was hitchhiking done in Canada? So close to the full moon, I didn’t want to be caught anywhere near Fenerec territory.
It was bad enough having to stay with Richa
rd’s pack when they would all be compelled to run as wolves. That my parents would join them didn’t help matters any.
Flicking on the light, I headed to the window. Resting my elbows on the sill, I stared out into the darkness, contemplating whether or not I was crazy enough to run.
Maybe I was only a Normal, but I was tired of letting every Fenerec I crossed paths with walk all over me. While the snow boots my father insisted I wear were in the other room, my sneakers were in my bag along with my clothes. Dressing in layers and shoving my feet into my shoes, I unlatched the window, slid out, and made my escape.
Growing up with parents who spent an unforgivable amount of time as wolves taught me a few tricks. When running in the snow, covering my tracks was necessary, as was dressing in a mix of pale and dark clothing. Unfortunately for me, the snowsuit my father had provided for me was red, which meant I had left it behind in favor of stealth.
Jeans and a pair of sweaters made for a cold walk.
At least pine branches made excellent brooms, especially in a forest strewn with needles from the brisk winter wind. I wiped away my tracks, careful to stay out of the light spilling through the windows of the cabin. The road would be the first place my parents would think to look, so I dodged it, instead skirting the snow-strewn lake.
The water was frozen over, and the wind blew the snow across it, leaving patches of bare ice. I tapped the surface with my foot, and when nothing happened, I tested my weight on the shoreline. When it held, I tossed my branch into one of the neighboring pines to hide it.
All I needed to do was follow the shore, which would eventually take me to the city of Slave Lake. From there, I would test my luck and find out just how far I could go before getting caught. Wrinkling my nose, I shoved my hands into my pockets, ducked my head, and marched.
Each step I took burned away my anger, leaving me tired in its wake. The cold worked its way into my clothes, and I shivered as the breeze strengthened into gusting winds. Tears of frustration burned in my eyes.
