Dear God…thank you. I can’t believe it’s over.
My voice cracking with guilt and barely controlled emotion, I whisper, “I love you, Sofia. Do you know how much?” She nods, almond-shaped pale green eyes frowning before she throws her little arms around my neck and squeezes me as hard as she can. Sighing, I try to tell her what I’ve been so scared to. “Honey, Daddy might not be coming home for a while.”
“Where did he go?” comes my son’s quiet voice.
I glance over quickly to Michael’s bed. “I thought you were sleeping.”
In Spiderman PJs he sits up and shakes his head slowly, squishing long eyelashes as he rubs his tired eyes. “Nope. I was faking.”
I can’t help but smile at his honesty. “Sweetheart, come over here.” He clamors off his single-size bed and climbs onto Sofia’s.
“Daddy has…” I stop, and for the first time feel tears welling. I love these kids so much. I want so badly to protect them from the pain of knowing what happened to their father. Children’s imaginations are very vivid and I can’t even think of what they’ll make of this, and how much it will mess with their heads.
My tears begin to fall for this reason and so many others.
For the changes we’re about to go through.
For the fear of moving into a world I don’t know.
For the fear they’ll feel walking the streets we call home after they hear what happened.
For the nervousness they’ll have around…maybe everything.
And because of all these worries, I do the thing I know I shouldn’t do. I lie.
“Daddy has gone away on vacation.”
“Where did he go?”
“Why didn’t he take us?”
“Is he going to be gone for a long time?”
“Will he bring us back something?”
“He’ll never bring us back something, Sofia, don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not stupid!”
“Mommy, why didn’t Daddy say goodbye?”
“Mommy, why are you crying?”
Wiping away the tears, I force a smile and say, “I’m just tired, honey.”
“You’re always tired,” Michael says with a pouty bottom lip.
“I know I’m always tired, honey. I’m sorry for being that way, but…how about this? Why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll do the same and then I won’t be tired tomorrow. We can do something fun.” I set him down and shoo him back to his own bed.
Michael catches my meaning and spins around. “No school tomorrow?”
Sofia’s eyes go wide. She’s only in Kindergarten, but she was in preschool before that so I could keep my job at the boutique I work at during the days. She hasn’t had a day with me that wasn’t a weekend in a long time.
Oh shit. I have to call Natalie and tell her what happened. Hopefully she’ll give me some time off.
“No school, Mommy?” Sofia asks with a growing grin.
“That’s right!” I smile and with forced excitement, announce, “Tomorrow we are going on a vacation of our own!”
They go nuts, squealing almost as loudly as when that 360 happened.
Dammit, why’d I have to think of him? I feel hot all of a sudden.
“Okay, okay! The quicker you fall asleep, the faster tomorrow will be here.”
They burrow under their covers, shoving their heads onto their pillows and closing their eyes really tightly. But they’re both grinning with their mouths closed, pretending to be asleep already. “Goodnight love bugs.”
“Goodnight Mommy!” They cry in unison, their voices so similar at this age. I don’t look forward to when that changes. Time goes so fast.
Turning off the lamp, the only light left is from the squid-shaped nightlight. Sofia peeks at me, then closes her eyes again, giggling.
Emily
I leave the door open a little like I usually do, then head for the kitchen…for a much-needed drink.
Xavier. What a name and what a man. Will I see him again? Unlikely.
Just the thought of him makes a pulse beat between my legs.
Stop it! You should be in mourning. Shame on you.
What I need right now is a big shot of tequila. Or twenty. Make ‘em body shots off that muscular back of his as I give his ass a hard spank.
Oh my God. Stop it.
Filling a short glass to the brim, I scold myself all the way to my favorite overstuffed chair by the window. I have to call my sister. Hopefully she’ll help me know what to do next. Just sharing this whole strange thing will help. Talking with her always does.
Marisol answers right away, “Hey Emmy, kids asleep?” skipping hello. She has two of her own so she knows the deal. Only she’s in Seattle, two hours behind me, so it’s not bedtime there yet.
“Yes, just tucked them in.”
“Awww. I remember doing that.”
“Can you talk?”
“Sally, stop it! Put the Oreos back where you found them. Yes, I mean it. Because you didn’t tell me about that fucking D on your test, that’s why. Don’t roll your eyes at me! Next time you don’t tell me about something like that and I have to hear it from your teacher, you’re grounded!”
I smile at the fact that she’s not grounding Sally for this first time she hid a bad grade. Marisol’s bark is way worse than her bite.
She sighs and comes back to me. “This is what you have to look forward to when they turn into teenagers. Yeah, I have a minute. Let me just get to a quiet place. Guys! I’m on the phone with your Aunt Emily, so nobody bother me for a good half hour. That means you, Sienna! And I’m taking the cookies with me.”
While listening, I drink a small burning sip and wince, but it’s a good hurt. “You’re going to eat them all, aren’t you?”
“Totally. That’s the only way to ensure my chub-a-lub doesn’t scarf out the white cream and put the chocolate parts back when I go to sleep.”
“Mare, don’t say that. Sally’s not fat.” Frowning out the window of our second floor apartment, nothing but a streetlight on the corner can be seen. The occasional car passes during our conversation, its wheels loudly splashing as it speed along the rain-soaked asphalt.
“She’s heading there! She hides her food. It’s a problem.”
That doesn’t surprise me. My sister and I were raised in a wild environment. Single mom. Absent dad. Lots of boyfriends coming and going. Our mom wasn’t conservative. We had two step dads and she’s searching for a third. To say we’re well adjusted is an understatement compared to how we could be. But the repercussions of our adolescence are felt in our children…and choice of men.
Our choice of men. Here goes.
“Sam’s dead,” I say, flatly, even though there’s a sting of anxiety felt.
Silence on the other end of the line. Then she explodes, “What?! How? When? Are you serious? Don’t tell me. Bar fight.”
“No. Not a bar fight.” It’s as good a guess as any.
She’s crunching, just stuffed a whole cookie in her mouth from the sound of it as she demands to know, “Then how?”
I stare out at the rain, not sure how to say it other than just blurt it out. “Animal attack.”
“I’m sorry…what? You’re kidding me, right? Is this April Fools Day?”
“It’s not. I’m dead serious.” I wince at the pun. “Bad choice of words.”
“Emily, what kind of wild animal is in Chicago? It’s not exactly a rural area. I mean, what the hell — are you sure? Are the kids okay? Were you there? Oh my God!” More crunching. It’s like she’s watching a movie at the cinema. The drama of my life is making her chew faster, the way you do popcorn and then realize it’s all gone, only you didn’t even know you were eating it — that’s how good the movie was. And how scary.
“They think something escaped from the zoo,” I tell her, dropping my voice with the memory of this afternoon. “I had to go identify the body today.” And there he is again. Xavier. Standing in the morgue glaring at me like he didn’t lik
e my being there.
Howard…oh…I didn’t know you weren’t alone.
My older sister can’t stop grilling me for details and I give them, sipping my tequila until it’s as gone as those cookies.
She’s in shock.
Give her a ride…home.
Marisol takes a deep breath. “Honey, I hate to say this…but this is the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Staring out as the rain picks up, I want to say, I know. I have prayed something would free me from our prison. Marisol insisted on many occasions that we could stay with her. She even punched him once. I got a beating for that practically as soon as she was on the plane.
When I first married Sam he wasn’t drinking. Didn’t like the taste. When Michael was two it began. I wish he’d never tried to get used to it. Some people have a switch in them that makes them crazy when they drink. Thank God I’m not one of them. For a long time I pitied him. I begged him to get help. That just got him really pissed.
And even though I prayed for a way out, I can’t confess that without feeling like a terrible human being. How sick is that? So instead, I tell her what I’m supposed to: “Don’t say that, Marisol. It’s not right.”
She explodes again. She’s good at that. “What’s not right is that your husband is supposed to love and protect you, not use your face as a punching bag!” Every time she does this, guilt and shame battle it out in my gut. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be where I was. You can never know until you’re there, what you’ll do. But she’s not done. “He deserved what happened to him years ago, Emily! How you put up with it I will never understand.”
“Well, that’s over now.”
“Thank the gods it is!” She’s an atheist. I am not. “I say he got what he deserved.”
“Don’t say that. No one deserves to die that way. You should have seen him. He was shredded, Mare. It was—”
“I hope he asked for forgiveness as he yelled out his last drunk breath.”
Sighing, I set my empty glass down and lay my head in my hands, closing my eyes. “I have to go.”
“Call me tomorrow.”
“’Kay.” Throwing the phone onto the couch, I draw my knees to my chest, stare out the window and shake my head.
Xavier
The storm and the distance made it impossible for me to hear her conversation from outside.
She’s upset. Numb. Scared. Exhausted. As she should be. And it’s my fault.
What am I doing here? And who do I think I am breaking into the building like this.
I have to see if she’s okay. I have to know. I have to help. I have to touch her again. I have to.
Her door opens after my light knock. I heard her bare feet pad over. Saw her peek through the peephole. Heard her gasp of surprise. And yet still for reasons unknown to me, I can’t hear her heartbeat.
Now Mrs. Emily Foster is standing in front of me, emerald eyes widening as she takes me in, her scrutinizing gaze tearing up and down my body just once. Her hair is toppled on her head in a messy bun, and she’s in sweats and a t-shirt. No bra. Self-conscious, she crosses her arms to hide how erect her nipples got at the sight of me. Too late, though. I saw it. And suddenly I know I’m in trouble. I should not fucking be here. Because what I want to be doing here is fucking.
She whispers, hoarsely, filled with shock, “What are you…why are you…what the hell?”
“I spoke to Dr. Peters. He told me what happened and so I wanted to see if you’re okay.” Fucking liar. That’s me. A murderer and a liar.
“At this hour?” she demands, slender eyebrows furrowing. “In the middle of a storm?”
“It’s only nine o’clock,” I mutter, feeling like a dick.
She blinks. “Oh. Right. I have children. Normal people stay up later.”
Nodding, I stare at her, then when we don’t speak for a long time, I drop my searching gaze to the less-enthralling weathered carpet below my feet. This woman is fascinating to me. I want to pull her into my arms and claim her. I want to make her bend to my will tonight. I want…what I can’t have. “Just wanted to check on you.” And eat you out until you’re writhing on my tongue and screaming, Fuck me. Oh, please, fuck me. “I’ll go.” Forcing my feet to move, I head off.
She calls after me. The sound is exactly what I want to hear. “Wait! No, I’m sorry. Um…” She’s confused and flustered.
She’s not ready for this. I’m not ready for this.
I’m leaving.
Now.
Turning on my heel I head back to her. “Can I come in for a drink?” I hear myself say.
What are you doing, Xavier? Stop it. Leave the poor woman alone.
But the scent is unmistakable and now he’s in charge of me — my wolf. She’s aroused. He has to see what that’s about. And he doesn’t want to fucking leave, no matter what I should or should not do.
I don’t blame him. She smells like heaven wrapped skin around it and served itself up as Emily Fucking Foster. I want to stay. In her. With her.
Shit motherfucking dammit fuck.
She stares at me, lips tight as she reaches up to grab the edge of her front door, ready to close it. “Come in.” She opens it wider, arms now uncrossed. She’s forgotten about her tits. I haven’t. How could I when the pink, tight little tips are poking out and saying hello like that.
I’m not going to touch her. I’m just going to talk and see how she’s doing. That’s all. I’m definitely not going to lick her pussy. I will not lick her hot, sweet, wet little pussy until she cums and cries out my name.
That I ain’t gonna do.
“Thanks,” I mutter, entering her home. As I pass her, I move slowly so I can inhale the aroma she exudes more deeply. Mmmmm. Damn if this woman doesn’t make my dick want to come out and play.
The deadbolt locks behind us and I almost tell her that’s not necessary. She’s safer with me in this home than she’s ever been anywhere. I’d like a burglar to try to break into this place right now. I could show her what I could do to him. Impress the shit out of her as I show her my wolf.
What. The. Fuck.
Where the hell did that come from? I have never, ever wanted to shift for a woman and expose the other half of myself. I like to keep the distance. I enjoy knowing they’re never gonna have all of me. Never have that part, that secret I can’t and don’t want to share.
So, why do I want to shift right in front of her and feel her fingers in my fur?
Frowning deep and long, I lean against a wall in her kitchen and watch her pull out a bottle of tequila. The cheap kind. I could smell it on her breath already, and I don’t blame her for wanting a stiff drink. I’m right with her on that. Pour away. In fact, give me the bottle.
But losing control is the last thing I need.
“This okay?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at me. That ass is better than okay, baby.
“Perfect.”
I watch her back arch as she reaches to grab ‘the good glasses’ from the top shelf, and when she turns around she catches me in the act of checking her out. I lick my lips. I’m salivating. She’s bringing out the wild animal in me.
Her pretty face goes deep red and the glasses clatter onto the counter between us.
“Sorry,” she whispers, righting them.
“Let me do that.” Wrapping my hand around the tequila, I notice her looking at my fingers, flushing even more hotly. Is she imagining this bottle is my cock? Just to see if that’s the cause, I run my hand down it slowly. She goes even brighter red and covers her mouth with one hand, staring.
A smirk pulls at my lips and I know right now that I am evil. She should run. But she doesn’t know.
Pouring heavily, I hand her a glass and hold mine up for a toast. “To better days.”
“To better days,” she whispers, sipping and averting her eyes from mine as quickly as they lock together. Licking the booze dripping from her shaking lips, she glances to the wall and holds there. I’m staring at her mout
h too long.
“I can make you feel better, Emily,” I say on a rasp.
She cuts back to me, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know what I mean.”
What are you doing, buddy? Shut the hell up. This is wrong. But my wolf is thrashing around in my chest, wanting to see how she tastes. I bet both salty and sweet. I bet that’s exactly how that tight little cunt of hers tastes.
Her mouth goes lax and the scent increases, so sweet and hungry for my cock.
“You need to leave,” she breathes, her eyes saying the exact opposite.
She licks her lips one more time and I watch, listening for her heartbeat as I always do with women when I know they want to fuck me. I get off of the sound of their racing heart. But nothing’s there. Is she even human?
“Xavier!”
“Mmm?”
“You’re staring at my breasts.”
Drifting back to her face, I crack my neck and blink away from her. “I have to go.”
“I think that’s best,” she grates, standing very erect as she waits for me to move. My feet aren’t budging.
“I’m going,” I mutter, glancing to the wall next to me. It has crayon scratch-marks up it with Sofia and Michael’s names scrawled across them. It’s the chart of their growth, and it gets my head in the right place in an instant.
“I’m leaving.”
Walking fast, I hear her footsteps following me out. Jamming my fingers around the lock, I swing the door open and freeze. Whipping around, I pull her to me and stare down into her eyes, grabbing her lower back with forceful fingers so that she’s pressed into me as close as I can get her. The hitching of her breath ricochets through my body as she arches her upper back away, keeping her lips from mine.
I am vibrating with need for this woman. I want her so badly I can taste her skin on the air. We stare at each other, both of us trying to resist the insane chemistry we feel. Neither of us wants this. It’s not right. It’s too soon. This beautiful angel is searching my eyes and the scent coming off her entire body now is too intoxicating to believe. If I lean down, I’ll touch her lips to mine and I know I won’t want to let go until I’ve had my fill of her. If I lift her off the ground, I can devour her with the greatest kiss she’s ever had.
Werewolves of Chicago: Xavier Page 4
