4: Jack - In The Pack

by Weldon, Carys

  The room was typical upscale. Real cherry furniture. Textured wallpaper and Berber carpet. Marble threshold in the bathroom. Great view...of the back alley to the port, I think. But with the lights out there coming up, it looked pretty.

  I waited until we were in the room to broach the subject of her mother dying again. I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it, but she, just as surely, did. Well, maybe she didn’t want to, but she needed to.

  “You want to talk about your mother?” Yeah. You can bet I was hoping she’d say no. No guy likes to talk about that awkward shit...because it makes us feel useless.

  I sure wasn’t thinking that I could comfort her right into sex. I want to make that clear up front. My head really was, well, never mind. Maybe it was up my butt--pushing her to talk like that.

  “I don’t know.” Fera arched and stretched, like she was going to go out running.

  “Are you sore?” I was just worried about her. “I could give you a massage while you talk.”

  “A massage?”

  “Here.” I turned her around, and standing there, I started on her shoulders, telling her, “I can do this all over, if you like.” The idea made me happy, because that was something I was not useless at. “All the way to your toes.”

  “Mm.”

  That sounded promising. She closed her eyes, tipped her head and seemed to be appreciating my ministrations.

  But any gathering of blood in my groin was quickly cut off when I noticed her features slipping...her chin and nose stretched.

  Now, I wanted to let go, and scream, “Holy shit!”

  And I’m sure my grip tightened, because she growled, “Ouch! That hurts,” at me.

  I put my lips to her cheek, the part that was still human flesh, pale and...her. And pressed a little kiss--still massaging, just not so deep into the tissue. I asked, “Are you shifting on purpose?”

  She jumped out of my arms, backed against the wall and held her arms out. Sure enough, hair was growing. Her claws were extending. She started pulling at her clothes.

  That was something to see in the light, while I was fully awake and coherent. It didn’t take long, and she sure as hell didn’t take as much pain, popping, grinding, or stretching as I did to do the morph. I didn’t even think to be afraid. I mean, her in crinos, me in human--I could not have defended myself from her. Not to mention that I couldn’t imagine hurting her in the first place.

  Warily, I asked, “Honey?”

  She snarled. Her gaze darted to and fro. I thought she might run and dive through the window. It looked clean and open.

  Fera knew about windows, but she might not be thinking clearly. Might not have heard of Plexiglas. I postured, arms up a little, in front of it. “Talk to me.”

  That may have been a little self-preservation begging. I knew as long as she kept control of her head, we could work through whatever was making her shift. It absolutely had to be emotion induced. Her mother’s death?

  See? I’m not that slow.

  Wish I’d never brought ‘the bitch’ up.

  “You want to talk about it?” Again, I could feel my inner self kicking me in the butt repeatedly for that. Like, why you gonna go and ask her that again, fool?

  She was hulking up, getting taller, looming over me. Her shadow climbed up and curved onto the ceiling. I remember looking up at that and thinking...holy shit, I wouldn’t want to run into her, like this, in the dark.

  “I’m so angry,” she growled.

  “Uh. Okay.” Now I was looking for a way to get to the door. You know, suddenly thinking I should probably not be the only thing in front of her that she could rip apart. There was no way I could get past her to the door. So, I had to try and talk her through it. Yeah. You know how I feel about talking.

  “Why are you angry?”

  She swiped at the lamp on the table beside the bed. It went crashing into the wall.

  I said, “Fera, calm down.”

  “I don’t want to calm down!”

  Yeah. That was at pretty loud volume. And here I am thinking, shit, someone’s gonna call hotel security, or worse, the fucking police on us. Domestic disturbance or something.

  I tried another tack. I straightened my back, pointed toward the door. Yeah, I know this was a stupid move--now--but I was working off the top of my head. I said, “Go kill something, Fera. Maybe you’ll feel better.”

  I’d have been up shit creek without a paddle if she’d taken me up on it.

  But no, instead, she bounded onto the bed, stretched her neck toward me, put her beady little eyes on me, flashed them and said, “Why go out?”

  Okay, Fera’s eyes had never seemed beady to me before--or since. But, at that moment, I thought she wanted to eat me. I’m sure she could smell the sudden, shocked fear I was feeling.

  It took me a minute to work my jaw, but, finally I managed to say, “Right. Kill me now, Fera. Maybe that’s what your brother had in mind.”

  She didn’t back down.

  I pretty much figured I was dead. I’d hoped mention of Hood would bring some measure of sanity into her head.

  There was a certain feeling of staring the devil down, there. But I held her gaze. Actually, I was afraid to turn away, afraid she’d slash me in the back.

  Wait. Actually, I was afraid she’d revel in the kill, you know, hurt me a little, watch me bleed and cry for a bit. A quick death, I could face. And if it took a stare down to bring it on, I was gonna give it to her.

  But she surprised me; she got control. She looked away first.

  Now, that’s basic pack and pecking order shit. He who can hold the stare longest wins. Dog knowledge. But honestly, I couldn’t remember that at the moment. But I’m taking notes now.

  I also know that staring a vicious dog in the eye can provoke an attack...they have a need to put you in your place. Ya know? So, bottom line--not a good idea. Don’t try that at home.

  She pulled her nose out of my face and sat, like a dog, on her haunches on the bed. Within seconds, she shifted to full lupus and lay down, putting her nose between her paws. “I’m sorry.”

  I was afraid to move. If she could shift that fast, without warning, I knew she was a cut, a breed above, anything I’d met at Lobos. I’d watched a few of those bitches shift. And the losers at Pack City, too. I’m talking painful, muscle rending shit. But Fera, her move was grace, like something out of the movies, except...prettier.

  I tried for humor. “Please tell me your bark is worse than your bite.”

  She smiled.

  You know how a dog smiles, mouth open, tongue lolling, eyes alight, head up.

  She joked back, “I’m not saying a thing.”

  My legs finally got some feeling back in them. Did I mention that at one point they’d gone numb? I couldn’t have moved from that spot to save my life. Not when she was in my face like that. I was scared shitless. I didn’t realize it until later.

  I staggered backward into the chair in the corner of the room, just watching her.

  After several minutes, I said, “Are you holding something in that I should know about?”

  Sure as the freaking sun was gonna rise, her face started changing again, going crinos. I leaned my head back, hooded my eyes and pretended like it didn’t bother me. I shrugged it off and turned my head to the window. I could see her reflection, and I told myself it wasn’t so scary.

  Half into crinos, she said, “They killed my father without reason. My mother, Hood, and I were made to watch.”

  Okay. At this point, I couldn’t lie to myself any more. The image in the window glass was pretty horrific. She stood up on the bed, crouching over, flexing her...talons. I don’t know what else to call those claws she has at full crinos. And her teeth, holy shit has she got some fangs.

  I couldn’t bear to turn and look her in the eye. Not again. Not in my vulnerable human form. I shrugged, pretended to be watching the lights in the distance. “It happened a long time ago, Fera.”

  She roared. “Not to me!�
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  Calmly, I said, “Keep your voice down.”

  Fera leaped off the bed, got up in my face again, but I didn’t turn to look. I could see her expression just fine in the mirror image. She growled, “I relive it every day.”

  You know what? I was tired. Too dumb fucking tired to give another shit for my own life. I turned my head, looked her in the eye, and said, “So, what? Now you can shift, you’re gonna go get revenge? Is that what you’re thinking?”

  I was mad. Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about my life any more. I was thinking about hers, and how it looked like she was going to waste it in chasing bad guys she couldn’t possibly win against. I was yelling, too, now, making her back up as I pulled myself up, while saying, “Go ahead, Fera. You’re a big girl now. You can fight any fight you want--once.”

  People in the next room beat on the wall. We didn’t care.

  I asked, “Do you honestly think that one lone wolf, a bitch fresh out of the nursery, is gonna be able to go against the people who killed your father?”

  Picture us, eye to eye, both angry and frustrated.

  What I saw there was a little girl--because I was just looking in her eyes at that point. Not at the beast. I saw my girl. And that changed my tone, softened it. Sadly, I said, “Fera, if you do that, where will that leave me? Us?”

  I wanted to cry, just at the thought. Mostly in frustration. I mean, I spent my whole life running, climbing mountains, doing a lot of death-defying stunts--because I had no one to live for. And here I’d found someone and she was gonna go and do something crazy like...go after murderers.

  Yes. At that moment, I hated Hood all over again. And that piece of shit lawyer, and her--for thinking about leaving me--without thinking about me at all.

  I know we’d only been together for twenty-four hours or so, but you can’t tell me what I was feeling wasn’t right. I was in love with her, consumed with her. And I couldn’t imagine life without her.

  That’s when we heard the knock on the door.

  “Hotel security. Everything all right in there?”

  Putting a hand to the back of my neck, I rubbed. Fuck if that wasn’t irritating. Just what we needed. Buttheads at the door. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

  Okay, so we weren’t fine.

  “Open up, please. I’d like to see for myself.”

  Now, that was funny. I looked at Fera and said, “Better make yourself presentable, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t let him in,” she growled, but I could see a little fear there.

  I told her, “Shift, honey, he’s got a key.”

  “What?” she squealed and bounded into the bathroom, shutting the door. I heard the lock click a second later.

  “I’m gonna have to open up.”

  I jumped to the door and started undoing the interior locks, pulling it open for him. I smiled as inanely as I could. “What’s the problem?”

  Maybe a little too innocent and chipper, considering the yelling about killing we’d done. I wondered if the actual words had carried, or just the tone.

  “We got more than one call about a fight here.”

  I shook my head, still playing stupid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Fera made a few groaning noises in the bathroom. The security guard looked interested in that, asked loudly, “You okay in there?”

  Posturing in front of the door, I said, “My girlfriend’s dinner isn’t sitting well.”

  “Just the same, I think I’ll wait and ask her, myself, if she’s okay.”

  I wanted to punch him in the head. Instead, I popped a fist against the bathroom door and said, “Hear that, Fera?”

  He jumped.

  Fera had such great ears, and I knew she had at least one pinned to the inside of that door. Probably made her jump, too.

  “You need to pull yourself together. This asshole’s not leaving until you show your pretty face.”

  I showed him my teeth. “Fucking rent-a-cop. I’m gonna complain to management about you.”

  “Just doing my job.” He backed up a little, because, truth be told, I’m a big guy. He was a pot-bellied pig with a gloss top. That’s when he recognized me. “Hey. Aren’t you that Olympic guy--weren’t you killed in--”

  “Do I look dead?”

  “You’re a ringer for that sucker.”

  That was funny to me. I laughed. “Yeah, I know. A dead ringer.”

  “I need to do a walk-through.”

  Now, remember, she’d shredded her clothes. Luckily, they were in a pile, and the guy didn’t pick them up when he checked out the room. I let him. I figured, what the hell. Hood could pay for the damn lamp. Lots of people broke lamps.

  “What happened here?”

  “We got a little...jiggy.” I smiled.

  Fera opened the door and peeked out. She squeaked, “He’s still here?”

  I laughed. “Of course he is. He’s earning his ten bucks an hour.”

  She batted her big eyes at him through the crack in the door.

  He said, “Can you come out, let me see that you’re okay?”

  “Can’t I just tell you?”

  Peering at her, he said, “I gotta see for myself.”

  She crooked her finger toward me. I went over to her, and she whispered, “Naked?”

  I kissed her quick. She was so cute. Then I shook my head and said, “Not on your life. Can you wrap a towel?”

  “I tried. It’s not working.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at him. Said, “Gimme a second. She can’t get the towel to stay.” I slipped in, wrapped a towel and tucked it in. It barely went around her, and her thigh stuck out. I said, “Don’t move too much or you’ll lose it.”

  We opened the door and she stepped out so he could see. Both her hands were clutching the towel like it was armor that could disappear any minute.

  “You okay, ma’am?”

  She looked up at me. “Do I look...not okay?”

  I smiled. “You look beautiful.” I didn’t care that Rent-a-jerk was standing there, I reached out, put a hand through her hair, pulled her close and kissed her. Not any cheap shit, either. Full blown, mother fucking, tongue down her throat possession.

  And she melted into me, forgot her towel, started clinging.

  The idiot left, pulled the door behind him.

  The towel slipped to the floor, and I walked her backward to the bed. She was pushing and pulling at my clothes, stripping me as we moved. We are best together when we don’t talk.

  We can block out the rest of the world, and just enjoy what’s between us.

  At that moment, it was my hard cock and her wet pussy. She fell back onto the bed and I climbed right on up, slid right on in. We rocked with the rhythm of our hearts, fast, but steady.

  The closer we got to climax, the more she moaned, the hotter I got, the faster I pumped.