Cry of the Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  Since then, she’d become a craving in his blood, a poison he needed to purge. Maybe once he solved the mystery of who she really was, he could go on with his life, such as it was.

  Entering his cubicle, he turned on the light and booted up his computer. Heading to the break room, he made a pot of strong, Cuban coffee even though he knew it wouldn’t help the burning hole in his stomach. What the hell. He wasn’t sleeping much anyway. Between the memories that haunted him and the woman whose face and form obsessed him, he was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t a candidate for a padded room somewhere. The worst part was that a padded room was beginning to sound pretty damn good.

  Jewel never knew when the urge would overwhelm her, which was in itself weird since all shifters prided themselves on their excellent control. Each child was taught the secret of controlling the beast within at an early age. She’d never had any problem controlling this before. But then she’d been able to change whenever she’d wanted.

  Now, she couldn’t even fall back on history. Her lessons hadn’t included a situation like hers. She didn’t know of any shifters who couldn’t change.

  After lunch, Jewel headed to the grocery store to pick up some supplies. The small supermarket was crowded with tourists and locals alike. She grabbed a basket, humming to herself as she stocked up on supplies for her cabin.

  Then, in the meat department in the midst of choosing a thick, juicy T-bone, the wolf inside made a desperate lunge for freedom. With a sharp gasp, Jewel fought it.

  Falling to her knees, head back in a wordless scream, she thrashed against an invisible enemy. It never was pretty when she tried to subdue her other self.

  Other shoppers stared, a small child began shrieking. One or two got out their cell phones and dialed 911.

  Somehow, Jewel got herself under control, mentally yanking her inner wolf up by the scruff of the neck and subduing the snarling and frightened beast.

  But, as soon as she did, her field of vision grayed, her focus wavering. She blinked rapidly, willing her contacts to help her see. If she passed out here, someone would surely summon paramedics. If they ran a blood test…

  She couldn’t let that happen. The law of the Pack forbade it.

  Leaving her half-filled shopping cart in the middle of the aisle, she ran from the store in a blind panic.

  Ignoring shouts to stop, she slid into her car and fumbled with the key. After two attempts, she finally got it in the ignition, started the car and peeled out of the parking lot as the sound of sirens drew closer.

  Though her entire body shook so violently she could scarcely concentrate, she gripped the steering wheel and stared at the road. Adrenaline helped, as did her overwhelming determination to get home. Praying she wouldn’t encounter a cop, she stomped on the accelerator and raced down the curving two-lane road. She only slowed a little as she made the right turn onto her street with her tires screeching.

  Heart pounding, body shaking, she stomped on the brake to stop, sending gravel flying. She’d made it! Slamming the car into Park, she snatched the keys from the ignition and pushed open her door.

  The ramshackle cabin—now her sanctuary—had never looked so inviting. Still shuddering, she tried to run, stumbling as if she were drugged. After falling once and skinning her knee and palm on the gravel, she continued on. Finally, she reached the doorstep.

  Only when she was safely inside, door locked, did she allow herself to collapse on the couch, her breathing ragged, heartbeat erratic. A trickle of warmth made her glance at her knee and she saw she was bleeding.

  Inside her, the wolf howled and snarled and began fighting again.

  No! Jewel fought back, furious at her traitorous body. She wanted to change, had to change, but knew right now she couldn’t, not without serious injury or worse. The wolf understood none of this, surging to be free.

  Somehow, after a violent, inner battle, Jewel subdued her beast.

  She’d won, again. But at what cost? If she didn’t change soon, she’d die.

  Exhausted, she clenched her hands into fists, ordering them to stop trembling. When that failed, she jumped to her feet. Though her legs shook and her body felt weak, she paced, trying to find a solution.

  Again the urge to change rippled through her, stronger this time. Again, she struggled against herself. Pacing, growling low in her throat, she whined and snarled, cajoled and pleaded. Human words mingled with animal sounds and, using the last of her strength, again she fought and won.

  But this was only the first part of the battle. Now came the sexual need, always a result of her aborted changes. Leo had delighted in this, purposely goading her to change, knowing whatever he’d done to her would make that impossible. He hadn’t cared that she might die, nor had he given a damn what toll it would take on her body, on her mind.

  Leo had found a perverse excitement, taking his pleasure and reveling in her weakness. When he’d finished, he’d left her to lick her wounds in humiliation, mortified that she had no control over her own body.

  She could control the wolf, but she could not control her sexual hunger. Even now, alone, desire raged through her and she craved a man’s touch, a man’s hard body…Closing her eyes, she pictured Colton Reynolds, and the way he’d backed away from her need.

  No. Forcibly, she pushed his image away, using her own hands to pleasure herself, frantic in her search for release. She was alone and must always be alone. Until she could repair the broken part of her, she had no choice.

  Her climax came with a fury that sent her to her knees, moaning.

  Spent and shaken, when it was over she stepped into the shower and let the hot water soothe her aching muscles. Clean and sore, finally Jewel dropped onto her bed and gave herself over to exhaustion. From experience she knew her sleep would be long and deep, and she’d awaken ravenous. Since she was pretty much out of food, except for a few eggs, a few slices of bread and an orange, that could be a problem, but it was one she couldn’t solve.

  There had been an incident at the grocery store. No less than three people called Colton to tell him. A woman had had some sort of fit or seizure and, while paramedics were en route, she’d recovered and run from the store.

  This in itself, while a cause for great speculation in Anniversary, wasn’t enough to excite Colton. But the woman’s description matched Jewel Smith’s.

  His boss wanted him to investigate it for the paper. Remembering the incident by the lakeside, Colton wanted to make sure she was all right.

  Snatching his car keys off his desk with one hand while closing his flip phone with the other, he hurried from the newspaper office and climbed in his Dodge Ram 1500 pickup.

  He sped the two blocks to the Burrus Store, parked and hurried inside, where he met with the manager. An affable guy named Bubby, with the build and red face to match, he punctuated his conversation with enough swear words to make a sailor blush. Used to him, Colton never even flinched.

  Despite his intention to remain detached, when Bubby began describing the woman, Colton’s stomach again began to burn. He reached in his pocket for his ever-present roll of antacids, popped two and impatiently motioned to Bubby to finish.

  Though he’d grabbed his notepad, Colton didn’t bother to write anything down. Tall with long blond hair and shocking emerald eyes only described one woman in town. Jewel Smith.

  “Do you think it was drugs?” Colton asked, hating the pity that flashed in the other guy’s face at his question.

  “Nah.” Bubby shook his head, sending the sizeable wattle under his chin to wiggling. “Not everybody is using drugs, Colt. Just because your—”

  “Then what was it?” Colton cut him off, well aware that most folks in Anniversary thought he carried his personal vendetta against drugs a bit too far. But then they’d never lost a child to drugs either.

  With a shrug, Bubby indicated his lack of knowledge. “Don’t know. Some kind of epileptic thing, maybe. My grandma used to—”

  “Did you see what she was driving
?”

  Bubby hadn’t, but several other witnesses had noticed the car.

  “Beat-up old Buick,” one man said, scratching his head. “No AC either. She drives with the windows down.”

  The description of the car clinched it. The woman was definitely Jewel.

  “Thanks.” Hurrying back outside, Colton climbed in his truck and headed over toward the old Pryor place. He’d check things out for himself and make sure Jewel was all right. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be wandering around outside naked or worse, unconscious and alone, waiting for someone to awaken her.

  Again the mental image of the desire that had darkened her eyes before she’d kissed him, of her lithe body, impossibly long legs and high breasts. He cursed out loud, though there was no one to hear him, furious at his instant arousal.

  Pulling into her gravel drive, he parked behind her car. Her engine was still making clicking sounds and the hood was hot, telling him she’d arrived home recently.

  His light taps on her door went unanswered, so he hurried down to the shore, carefully combing the woods. When he found no sign of her there, his worry mounted. Irrational yes, but he kept remembering her unconscious on the ground. Telling himself he’d touch nothing, only make sure she was safe, he went to the back of the house, where he knew the window was shaky.

  As he’d suspected, due to its condition, the locking mechanism was loose, and a few quick wiggles of the frame unlocked it. Telling himself this was a fantastic opportunity to do some good investigative reporting, he pushed open the bottom and climbed up inside. Knowing he’d be in the kitchen helped, and he jumped down from the countertop with relative ease.

  Standing stock still, he listened. The only sound he heard was the soft ticking of a clock. The place smelled like citrus, as if she’d just finished peeling and eating a juicy orange. But he saw no sign anyone had dined on anything. The house appeared deserted.

  Maybe, despite her car in the drive, Jewel wasn’t home. But where could she have gone, especially if she was sick?

  Heart thudding in his chest, he padded down the small hallway toward the single bedroom.

  As soon as he entered the small room, he realized she was there, sleeping or unconscious. Staring, he also realized he was in big, big trouble as his body thickened.

  Sprawled across the bed on top of the faded quilt, Jewel looked as beautiful and alluring as he remembered, maybe more so. Colton froze, unable to keep his gaze from drinking in the sight of her.

  She was all right. He needed to go before she woke and saw him. He couldn’t blame her then if she called the police.

  Stumbling, he made it out without disturbing her. Once he reached his truck, he sat inside, shocked at what he’d done.

  He felt like a stalker.

  Dragging a shaky hand across his face, he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. The more distance he put between himself and this woman, the better. He knew it. Yet he couldn’t seem to stay away.

  Later, after a shower, he felt too restless to stay put. He needed a cold beer, or two or three. Pulling on a pair of jeans and boots, he headed to the highway and Jack’s Grill on the Water, his favorite place to grab a cold beer and shoot a game of pool. They had pretty decent burgers, too.

  Once there, he found a group of locals hanging around the bar listening to a woman wail into the microphone while guitars twanged.

  Conversation eventually turned to the new—and beautiful—single woman, Jewel Smith. Of course. Even the fates were against him. Resigned, he listened rather than contributing to the talk.

  “I’ve seen her somewhere,” John Cassel muttered, staring into his beer bottle. “But I can’t remember where.”

  The band started up again, drowning out what else John said, but Colton didn’t care. He knew the feeling. Once he could put a finger on where he’d seen her, maybe he could stop thinking about her.

  He’d even dragged himself out to this bar, a place he used to come every week, though he’d stopped recently. But he needed a distraction, something to keep his mind on other things besides her. So far nothing, not even fishing, his favorite escape, had worked. Why not try noise and smoke, booze and inebriated, tanned women? What did he have to lose?

  Christ. He rubbed his eyes. He’d already lost it all.

  “What’s wrong?” Rick Bantam, newly elected mayor, punched Colton’s arm. “You look like someone died.”

  “Nothing like that.” Despite his lighthearted tone, Colton’s insides clenched. Rick couldn’t know how his careless words stabbed him. After all, it had been two years. Normal people recovered in two years, right?

  But then, Colton had never claimed to be normal.

  “He’s just trying to remember where he’s seen Jewel Smith. We both think she looks familiar.” John tapped his foot in time to the music. His easy grin said he didn’t really care.

  “You don’t remember her?” Rick’s bushy gray brows rose. “It’s only been six months since she was on the news.”

  Colton sat up, carefully placing his beer bottle on the bar. “On the news? Are you telling me you know who she is?”

  “Sure, man.” Rick leaned close, lowering his voice. “Though I’m willing to bet she doesn’t want anyone else to know. I’m surprised you didn’t place her, as obsessed as you are with stopping drugs.”

  So his suspicions were on target.

  Suppressing the urge to grab the other man by the shirt, Colton waited. If he tried for nonchalance, he knew he’d fail, so he said nothing.

  Neither did Rick. He sipped his beer while leisurely surveying the packed room.

  Seconds ticked into minutes. Finally, Colton couldn’t take it anymore. “Who is she?”

  Rick’s mild brown gaze met his. “Sorry. Despite the blond hair, Jewel Smith is a dead ringer for Julie Licciardoni, former wife of Leo Licciardoni. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about his trial.”

  Colton hadn’t forgotten. How could he? The indictment, arrest and trial had been sensationalized in every media outlet, including his former employer’s.

  “If I remember right, she entered the Witness Protection Program,” Rick continued. “That must be why she’s here, with a different name and hair color.”

  “Excuse me.” Draining the last of his beer, Colton set the empty bottle down. “I’ve got to go.” Without waiting for Rick’s response, he pushed his way through the crowd toward the exit. Smoke curled around him, curdling his gut, stinging his eyes.

  Once outside, he took great gulps of the humid air.

  “Are you all right?” John had followed him out. “You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m fine.” Colton waved his friend away, summoning what he hoped vaguely resembled a smile. “Stomach’s messed up. Must be something I ate earlier.”

  John nodded, mumbling something about women as he turned to go back in the bar.

  Colton barely noticed. He started the truck and turned left on Samsun Road, heading home. He’d been wrong about Jewel Smith, née Julie Licciardoni, in a big way.

  She’d been the prosecution’s chief witness against her husband’s cartel, testifying against her own husband, while simultaneously filing for divorce. She’d claimed she hadn’t known about her husband’s illegal activities and, when she’d learned of them, she’d turned the man in.

  It was entirely possible, he thought with a shake of his head, that Jewel was one other person who hated drugs as much as him.

  But then what explained the way he’d found her, naked and unconscious, acting as if she was high? Could the perfect witness have lied? Was she perhaps a user, a victim of the very same designer drugs her husband’s people had peddled?

  He didn’t know, but he had to find out.

  Chapter 4

  Jewel paced, wishing she hadn’t needed to abort her earlier attempt at grocery shopping. She had to feed both herself and the beast within. She needed food, but worse, she needed iron. Red meat, preferably a T-bone steak, cooked rare. Her mouth watered at the thought.

/>   Inside her, the caged wolf snarled.

  They were both ravenous. Empty stomach clenched in knots, she snatched up her car keys. She had no choice but to make the attempt again.

  “Behave,” she chastised herself, praying the wolf would remain contained.

  Outside, the humid air caressed her skin. She walked to her car, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering. Not from cold, but because the effort to control the change was becoming more and more difficult.

  She didn’t know how much longer she could continue without making another attempt. She didn’t know if the next attempt would be her last.

  One problem at a time. For now, she needed to focus on food. On survival.

  This time, she chose a different market. This one was larger, newer, more anonymous. Finding a slot near the door, she parked. Taking a deep breath, she exited her vehicle and walked into the brightly lit store, grabbing a shiny metal cart.

  So far, so good.

  She stormed up one aisle and down the next. Grabbing items off the shelves and tossing them in her cart as quickly as she could, she made it through the entire store without incident. The checkout process went smoothly, though Jewel knew better than to relax. When she let her guard down too much, the wolf would seek an opening, a way out.

  Declining the teenager’s offer to help load the bags into her car, Jewel hit the parking lot at a jog then unloaded the cart into her trunk. She hurried through that process, too. The sooner she got home, the better off they’d all be.

  One thing about this old heap, she thought, the trunk could fit a ton of stuff. Or one dead body, she thought ruefully, slamming the trunk and thinking again of Leo.

  She even returned the shopping cart to the cart collection area before she left. Confidence soaring, she did a mental victory dance as she climbed into her car.

  Driving back to the rental house, she began to finally relax. She had her food, there’d been no episode of changing, and after she got everything unloaded and put up, she’d cook a big steak dinner.