by Ava Walsh
She was not going to go back.
Determined, Mary climbed into the back seat for the old blanket that was always in the car for just this type of emergency. Winter in the Rocky Mountains was hazardous, even more so in an old car like this one.
She quickly folded tied the edges together, sticking her bag of money into it before taking off her clothes and also putting them in the blanket bundle. She shivered as the cold penetrated into her, but tied the bundle tightly around herself, looping it over one shoulder and under the next so that it pressed against her chest.
A blast of wind made goose bumps spring out on her arms as she stepped from the car. Mary called to the Wolf in her bones, and it happily consumed her.
She began trotting, her ears constantly rotating for the sound of oncoming vehicles. Her breath came in bursts as she inhaled and exhaled the fresh, clean air, feeling more alert than she had for a long time. It had been too long since she'd allowed her Wolf to have its freedom other than on the full moon when she didn't have a choice in the matter. With a yip she burst into a run, her fur smooth and glistening against her round, plump sides. Running with her Wolf truly was the best feeling in the world.
She saw the bear just in time to avoid it as it burst onto the road. A huge, dark-brown grizzly, it stopped the instant it saw her. Massive muscles rippled under its fur. A fresh scar ran jagged down the side of its face, black against pale skin, curved like a bass clef.
And then it came for her.
Mary's heart skipped a beat as adrenaline surged through her. She bolted at once; ears flattened against her skull; tail lowered to streamline herself the best she could. The bear's grunts and heavy footfalls chased after her.
She dashed into the pine forest. The snowdrifts nearly buried her, but she plowed ahead. The imagined feeling of teeth tearing into her urged her to go even faster. Her heart hammered so hard she thought it would explode.
By the time she realized that the bear had given up the chase, the heavy snow had thickened. She shivered, settling beneath a tree, eyes darting through the shadows. There was nothing there. Her fur was still on edge, and she licked in back down to calm herself.
No harm done, she told herself. It was just an old, dumb grizzly bear.
Still, she didn't know how far she was from the road, and with the snow coming down, she was going to lose her way if she didn't hurry back to it. Trying to put the bear from her mind, she headed back down the path she came though she jumped at every moving shadow. The snow seemed to muffle everything. If she was home, she would be cooking supper by now. Four-year-old Simon would be underfoot, trying to steal an early mouthful.
Were they out looking for her by now? Or was Father keeping an eye on the road while he did chores, counting the stripes his belt would put on her backside? Was Julia keeping the house in order, or had Conrad Milton, the skinny little half-human from two farms down, come to take her for a walk around the pond? Was Mother calling for her while the baby cried with a soiled diaper?
Mary's legs burned with the effort of pushing through the drifts and she sat a moment, shivering as the snow melted and trickled into her fur. Wide green eyes darted from side to side, looking for a place where she could take shelter for the night. She did not want to repress her Wolf so she could use her hands to build herself a snow hut.
The sound of an engine close by made her ears spring up. Her whole body tensed as she got back to her feet, rotating her ears to find which way it was coming from. There! She loped towards the noise, deviating from the path she had taken when she ran from the bear.
After only a few meters, she stumbled out of the trees and onto a road. Frozen gravel bit into her paws from under a layer of packed snow. Her head swiveled, and she made out a dim light from her left. Quickly she suppressed her Wolf, forelegs transforming into arms, chest rising, spine straightening.
The cold wind was like a punch to the stomach. Mary's hands shivered as she dug her dress from her sack and yanked it on. It was half-frozen, and her teeth began chattering.
A giant white truck came into view. Mary moved off the dirt road but waved her arms to get the driver's attention. "Stop!"
The truck slowed to a stop. Mary yanked the door open. A rush of warm air washed over her face, making her sigh in relief.
"Get in," a deep, male voice said. "You look half frozen to death!"
Mary gratefully climbed into the truck. The warmth felt so good it hurt, and her shivering increased. "Thank you," she chattered. "I got lost. Can you take me to the city? I have a flight to catch."
"No. Avalanche closed the roads." The man grunted, turning the heat up.
Mary's heart sank. Now there was nothing to do but go home. But when she turned and got her first look at the man, her words died in her throat.
The first thing she noticed was that he was insanely beautiful. Liquid black eyes stared out of a tanned face that belonged on the cover of a magazine. He had high cheekbones, and a wide, full mouth. Dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun at his crown, and with his neatly trimmed beard, he looked like he should be wielding a war hammer and commanding lightning.
"My name is Andre," he said, unsmiling. "Andre Mitchel."
"Mary Locke," she whispered back.
It wasn't his beauty that caught her voice in her throat. It was the scar on his cheek, black against his skin, curved into the shape of a bass clef.
Chapter Two
He kept the light in the cab on so he could see every move she made. So far she hadn't done much besides buckling her seatbelt and rubbing her arms. Her long green eyes kept darting over to him, a sure sign of unease.
Mary Locke, Paul Locke's daughter. He'd seen her before, though she didn't know it.
He watched her from the corner of his eyes. Her long, black hair was tugged back into a tight braid, and she toyed with the end of it, curling and uncurling the loose bit around her finger over and over again.
"So what were you doing out there in the snow, anyway?" Was she hunting? He'd never seen the girls hunt, let alone on their own.
She rubbed her arms. "My grandmother is sick. I have to go take care of her. My flight is tomorrow, so…"
A sick grandmother? Andre almost winced. The family was the most important thing in the world to him. Or at least, it was once. But who knew if the girl was telling the truth? She looked to be about four years younger than him; in her mid-twenties, then. If he knew Paul Locke and his 'community', she was probably running from her overbearing husband before she could give birth to her fourth or fifth child.
"How much longer?" she asked.
"We're almost there."
The mid-calf dress she wore was soaked through. It clung to her voluptuous body, showing off each curve. Her cute button nose wrinkled as she sneezed, and she covered her little rosebud mouth with a long, slender hand. Smooth, unblemished skin the shade of alabaster flushed with the cold.
He never thought that a stinking werewolf could be so beautiful.
***
She was sure he was watching her, even though every time she glanced at him, his eyes were on the road before them.
By the time they stopped, so had her chattering teeth. Her dress was still soaked through, and shivers ran down her spine, but she was beginning to warm. The snow was coming down so thick that Mary could hardly make out the building that the truck's headlights shone on. It seemed to be a log cabin of some sort.
"Where are we?" she asked and hoped he'd think the tremble in her voice was because of the cold.
"It's my cabin." He turned, and his black eyes bored into hers. "You're from around here. You didn't know about me and this?"
"I don't get out of the house much," she said honestly.
Andre grunted and got out of the truck. If she knew how to hotwire vehicles, she'd have been tempted to stay where she was. But if he knew that she knew he was the Bear, or if he wanted to kill her, wouldn't he have done so already? Wouldn't she already be lying dead in the ditch?
He
wasn't going to hurt her. She knew that deep inside of herself, but there was a niggling voice at the back of her head that told her to be afraid.
There was bad blood between Bears and Wolves. Mary didn't know when or how it started, but she had heard stories of how Bears were monsters from the time she was a small child. Her mother's grandfather had been murdered by one on the journey from Russia to the Americas. Both her father's parents were killed by Bears. And Andre had just attacked her for no apparent reason, other than she was a Wolf himself.
Well, she couldn't stay in the truck. And somehow she knew she would be perfectly safe as she followed him through the darkness.
The cabin was small, cozy even. It was lit by an open fire, nestled in a brick mantle on the wall opposite the door. A small alcove was nearby, holding a pile of dry wood. Andre bent over it, adding some logs and stirring the coals with a poker. Two doors led off the main room, one to a bathroom, the other to a bedroom.
Other than that, the cabin was total chaos. Clothes were tossed everywhere, over the single table and three chairs, on the floor. Mary's hand flew to her nose as she saw piles of molding food. A pile of dirty dishes sat in the sink.
"I wasn't expecting company," Andre grunted, eyeing her.
"It's, um—"
Mary's jaw dropped when he shrugged off his thick winter jacket. He wore no shirt (probably because they were all dirty on the floor).Smooth, taut skin stretched over large muscles. His arms were even bigger than hers! A six-pack of hard abs pressed against his abdomen and the 'V' of his waist disappeared into tattered jeans, which were slung low on his hips. Mary found herself wondering how low the 'V' actually went. Her face grew hot, and she turned away.
Andre grabbed a stained shirt off the floor and slipped it on over his head. He looped his thumbs in his belt and cocked his head to one side as he studied her.
Mary cleared her throat. "Do you think the snow will clear up enough to get to the city tomorrow in time for my flight?"
"Avalanche. It'll take some time to clean that up."
Oh. Right. Maybe she could make it if she tried to get there on foot… but she had no idea where she was. Besides, her legs and arms already hurt from the exertion earlier. She could, at least, spend the night. No harm would come of that, would it?
If I had more time to embrace my Wolf, I'd be a lot stronger.
Resentment flared in her, making her temporarily forget her situation. How dare her father and mother put so much responsibility on her that she worked from dawn until dusk? She was always the first one awake in the morning, starting the fire and making breakfast for the boys when they got up for chores. If she wasn't cooking, she was cleaning, being interrupted every few minutes by the younger children having troubles with their schoolwork or fighting with each other.
She missed helping to feed and milk the animals like she did when she was small. At least, then she was able to get out of the house other than to go to town and buy groceries! Even during the Full Moon Run every month, she had to stay home with the babies, helping ease their pains from their first involuntary transformations.
Andre kicked around some clothing on the floor and picked up a green T-shirt and sweatpants. "Here, these should be clean."
Mary's nose wrinkled as she accepted the clothing. Andre was still staring at her with those beautiful black eyes, and she met his gaze. "Thank you. But isn't there any way that I can get to the city? I really need to get to my grandmother."
"No way in this snow tonight." He gestured at a window. It was too dark outside to see what was happening out there, but clusters of snow were being blown against the panes with distinctive prickling noises, like saran wrap slowly falling apart. "It'll be blizzard conditions in no time. You should have looked at the weather before you bought your flight."
"I suppose." Mary hugged the clothes to her chest as she moved to the window, staring at the whiteness outside in despair. If she hadn't gone with Andre, she'd still be out in that and about to freeze.
Andre cleared his throat, moving past her to the door that led to the bedroom. He gestured in awkwardly. "There are plenty of blankets on the bed, nice and warm."
The bedroom was slightly neater than the main room. There were still clothes all over the floor, but no dirty dishes or rotten food, and the blankets on the bed were pulled tight and wrinkle-free. It looked like it hadn't been slept in for days. Mary laid the T-shirt and sweats over the footboard, an elaborately carved piece of wood. Cherry, she thought. Maybe apple.
"Where will you sleep?" she asked, glancing at him. It was cooler in the bedroom than the main room. Would she be warm enough? Maybe if she had a warm body beside her that she could snuggle close to… Her face flamed.
Stop it! What was wrong with her?
"I usually sleep on the floor near the fire anyway," he said. "Sleep well. We'll figure out what to do with you in the morning."
After he had closed the door, Mary searched the walls for a light switch. She couldn't find one. Her wet clothes were seeping the heat from her body, and she changed into the borrowed clothing. They were tight on her rump and breasts, and the shirt smelled slightly of sweat and animals, but the outfit was dry and warm, and that was what counted.
Mary slid into the bed. Andre was right. There were enough blankets to keep her warm. As she sank into the soft mattress, it was all too easy to forget about her troubles, her family, and the beautiful Bear that was sleeping in the next room.
Chapter Three
The werewolf looked like she hadn't slept at all. Andre rolled his shoulders as she came into the main room, having had an uncomfortable night as well. With a Wolf in his house, he didn't dare sleep. She may have looked harmless, but Wolves were deadly monsters with no honor. If the Locke family didn't prove that, nothing would.
But the dark circles under Mary's eyes, and the uneasy way she moved past him, rigid as though trying to stop herself from shivering, made him think she just may be the exception to the rule. She was frightened, but not hostile. His clothes stretched over her body, emphasizing her shape, may have helped, and he admired her backside as she went to the cupboards.
"Don't you have any clean dishes?" she turned, cheeks turning pink when she looked directly at him.
"I don't have much need of them." Andre suddenly felt very self-conscious about the state of his home. He hadn't thought much about it the previous night, but now he wished he had tidied up a little during the night. Grunting, he shoved his hands into his pockets, and then removed them in case she tried to attack. "I know you're a werewolf."
The color drained from her face. Her eyes widened, chest heaving shallow breaths, and pressed herself back against the counter. "What are you going to do?"
Andre tilted his head. He didn't like the way she trembled with fear and was overcome by the desire to comfort her. A foolish, dangerous notion, he knew. But if he was right and she was running from her community, then perhaps they could be helpful to one another. "Your father is Paul Locke. He would kill me in a heartbeat if he knew I was here."
Mary opened her mouth as if to protest, but dropped her gaze. "His parents were killed by Bears."
And that justifies painting us all with one stroke? He eyed her, shaking off the guilt that he did the same–but he wouldn't kill pups! "Whatever his reasons, I cannot allow your werewolf pack to know I am here."
"Why do you live so close to us, then?"
The answer was on his lips, but then Mary looked back up at him. There was such innocence in her gaze, and even with her fear, there was a measure of trust in her. She believed that he wasn't going to hurt her, even if she wasn't sure why. He knew that just from looking at her. He swallowed hard. He couldn’t tell her. "I've lived here for many years. I'll not be chased away by a werewolf. But I can't let you go. Not yet, at least."
"I won't tell anybody," she started, and he shook his head, cutting her off.
"I would prefer not to tie or lock you up, Mary. But I will do what I need to in order to ensure m
y safety. Understood?"
There was nothing else to say. Andre grabbed the car keys Mary had left on the table the previous night and stalked out the door, leaving her alone inside. If she was going to remain with him, he would bring her car to the cabin. Hopefully, the Locke family hadn't found it yet.
***
Soon after Andre left the cabin, Mary heard a tractor engine roar to life. The snow had stopped sometime during the night, leaving everything blanketed. Andre, on a John Deere, was clearing out a path back up the gravel road. She watched him for a bit, but when she was certain that he wasn't going to come back in, she grabbed her blanket bundle and looked through it. Her money was still there, which was a relief. She couldn't have gotten her car out of the snowbank even if Andre had left her keys, so she didn't waste time thinking about it.
He had taken the keys to his truck as well, so in the meantime, all she could do was make herself some food and wait for a chance to get away. Her dress was still wet, so she spread it on the floor in front of the fire to dry.
The still and quiet of the cabin was a little unnerving. Mary was so used to constant noise and work that she really didn't know what to do with herself while she waited for the opportunity to make her move. Part of her wanted to stay. It was a cozy cabin, and in the daylight, Mary saw it had a lot of potential if only it was a little tidier.
She would have been tempted to blame the state of things on Andre being a man, but she knew better. None of her brothers were this messy! Perhaps it was because they knew she controlled what food they put into their bodies, and didn't want to face her wrath over laundry. Maybe they would get this messy without her there. No, it's because Andre is a Bear.
But that didn't seem right either.
Mindful of the tractor's rumbling, Mary returned to the bedroom. She hadn't seen them the previous night, but one whole wall was dedicated to books. They were in every size she could imagine, and she chose one at random. She might as well be doing something while she waited. Books were a rare treat, and she soon found herself immersed.
