Witch Wolf

by Winter Pennington

  “There’s a spare key in the cabinet above the sink,” I said looking over my shoulder, “use it if you leave.”

  Rosalin sat down on the couch. “I will.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The clock in the car read 7:38 when I arrived at Francesca’s. It was a large restaurant nestled in the heart of Oklahoma City. Stone steps led up to the entrance. The walls of the building had dim lights shining on it, just enough light to show it was a pretty cream color. A large patio was located several feet from the steps. The fence around the patio was made of curling wrought iron. Too many places around the building were hidden in shadow. It made me uneasy. Probably not something most patrons were concerned about when they came for dinner here. But I wasn’t like most patrons.

  I was glad that the four-inch heels were the tallest ones I owned, since I likely would have broken my neck in anything higher trying to navigate the damn stairs.

  “Kassandra.” Her voice purred my name, sending a shiver of chills up my spine. I turned to find Lenorre bathed in the dim glow of an old-fashioned street lamp. She’d left her hair down so that it fell to her waist like a cloak of black silk. The wind stirred a few curls, causing them to dance. We were both wearing trench coats, except hers was velvet and midnight blue. The pants she wore were tight and formfitting, highlighting every curve of her body to perfection. A line of lace strings crisscrossed down the length of her legs, disappearing into slender knee-high boots. I couldn’t tell, but the boots looked like they were black suede. The shirt she wore was the same velvety material as her coat. The collar of the shirt was high, hiding her neck behind black velvet and white lace. My eyes followed the line of white lace to her cleavage.

  A smile spread across her garnet lips. I looked down at the steps, hoping the appreciation hadn’t shown in my eyes.

  She was suddenly in front of me, offering her arm. “Shall we?”

  I looked at her gloved palm. The silk gloves disappeared into the sleeve of her coat so that I could not tell just how high they went.

  I walked past her and the arm she offered.

  Her smile hardened slightly, but kept an edge of humor. As we walked through the door, she watched me intently. It took more effort than I’d like to admit to keep my knees from buckling. Was it just Lenorre, or did all vampires have the ability to caress with a look? I really, really fucking hoped not. If so, I was going to stock up on vampire repellent. A lot of it. That is, once I figured out what would repel them, not kill them. Unfortunately, the whole garlic thing is a load of crap.

  We made our way through the dimly lit interior to a table in an intimate alcove. Lenorre sat across the table. I fought against the urge to fidget under the weight of her gaze. Our coats had been taken at the door. The restaurant was filled with the soft murmuring voices of couples enjoying a romantic night out. I cradled my hand delicately around the stem of my wineglass. When we ordered, Lenorre had told the waiter to bring her the usual. The usual had turned out to be a dark liquid in a long-stemmed glass. I didn’t have to smell it to guess what it was. Blood in a champagne flute—who would have thought? I wondered if it was some type of vampire etiquette.

  So far, dinner was turning out to be a highly uncomfortable experience. At least, it was for me. Lenorre seemed quite content to just sit there and watch me. I’d never in my life been so aware of every move I made, every bite I took. It was unnerving. If I had hoped she’d reduce the tension with polite small talk, I had hoped in vain.

  I tried to return her unwavering stare and failed, eyes flicking to the glass in her hand.

  “Does every restaurant have that on their menu?” I asked, interrupting our silence.

  I could see her smirk out of the corner of my eyes as I took another sip of my own wine.

  “No,” she said, “I’ve known the owner for some years. It’s an acquired taste.”

  “I just bet it is,” I mumbled. I was full after eating the manicotti, but Lenorre had insisted that I order dessert. I’d gone with the tiramisu. Tiramisu and Lambrusco were on the top of my “orgasmic foods” list. Every woman I’ve ever met has had a sexy food that tastes so good they equate it with either foreplay or an orgasm.

  The waiter returned bearing the gift of tiramisu and put it down in front of me. He looked like he was in his early twenties and I guessed he was working his way through college.

  “Anything else?” he asked. The look in his eyes when he looked at Lenorre showed a certain curiosity.

  “No, thank you.” Her tone was reserved but polite.

  He glanced at me and I shook my head. I picked up the fork and focused on my dessert.

  The tiramisu melted on my tongue, coating my mouth in the taste of cream and coffee liqueur. I took a sip of wine to enhance its flavor. The wine was sweeter than before, mingling with the richness of the dessert. I licked my lips, savoring the sweetness it left behind.

  When I opened my eyes Lenorre was watching me. Her stormy eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly silver light.

  “Would you stop staring at me? You’ve been watching me like a hawk all night,” I said between bites.

  “If you were not so fascinating, I wouldn’t feel the need to watch you.” Her voice was low as she took a drink. There was an edge to her words that made my heart skip.

  “You have an accent,” I said, changing the subject.

  “Barely. I have been in this country long enough that it is not as noticeable as it once was.” She gently swirled the ruby liquid in her glass, staring into it as though she could see some aspect of her past.

  “England?” I asked, taking another bite. It sounded almost British, but softer, smoother…more like tiramisu.

  She nodded and then asked, “What are you thinking?”

  “What?”

  “A look just crossed your face. What were you thinking a moment ago?”

  I was in trouble. I’d just compared the vampire’s voice to tiramisu. I put my fork down. I was suddenly no longer hungry. It was nearly gone anyhow. The comparison was a bad sign. The only person you should compare to a decadent food is your lover.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, but it came out too quick.

  “There was fear in your eyes.” She put down her glass. “The only look you’ve had in your eyes since the first sip of wine was sensuality, not fear.” She gave me a questioning look.

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing.”

  She let it drop and pushed her chair back, signaling that our dinner was done. Lenorre paid for the meal and retrieved our coats. She held mine open for me to step into, and I didn’t bitch when she helped me to put it on. The least I could do was allow her to be courteous without bitching. At least, that’s what I told myself as we left the restaurant.

  I unlocked the car door and finished buckling my coat. The nights were beginning to get cooler as the autumn equinox approached. Lenorre looked out into the darkness with watchful eyes.

  I didn’t know what to say to her so I opened the door and slid behind the wheel.

  “Are we going to your apartment?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Sweet mother!” I exclaimed and looked at her. She was sitting in the passenger seat sideways, watching me with those cloudy eyes.

  “Do you have to do that?” I asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Poof,” I said. “Poof, you’re there. Poof, you’re not.” I demonstrated with my hands.

  She gave me an amused look.

  “It’s not amusing,” I said. “It’s downright creepy.”

  Her laugh slid down my spine like heat. My hands clenched and the steering wheel dug into my palms. I tightened my jaw.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” she said.

  “Are you telling me, or asking me?” My voice was angry.

  She smiled. “Both.”

  “How can you be doing both at the same time?”

  “I’m asking you to go for a walk with me. I’m telling you not to make me ask twice.” She leaned back in her seat
, crossing her long legs.

  “Are all vampires as bossy as you are?”

  “Kassandra, is it truly that much trouble just to go for a walk with me?” The gentleness in her tone made me turn to look at her. “I would like very much to go for a walk beneath the light of the crescent moon, and I would greatly enjoy having your company while I do.”

  Damn, she was good. It was my turn to laugh.

  Her facial expression hardened. “I ask you nicely to go for a walk with me. I do exactly what you want me to do, and yet you laugh?” There was anger in her tone, and her accent was more noticeable as it grew.

  I shut my door and put my seat belt on.

  “Put your seat belt on,” I told her.

  She just looked at me.

  “I’m not starting this car until you put that damn seat belt on.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “You seem to forget something,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I am a vampire.”

  “We could still get into a wreck. You could get thrown out the windshield and get decapitated by the hubcap.” Hey, it could happen.

  She didn’t even blink.

  I kept my arms crossed. “It’s still the law, vampire or no.”

  She opened her mouth to argue and then shut it, putting on her seat belt. Smart vampire. I started the car.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “There is a park a few blocks from here. The one with the gardens?” I knew which park she was referring to. I held the turn signal down with my fingers and made a left onto the main street, heading in the direction of Heartland Park.

  The sounds of the car filled the silence that stretched between us. I spared a glance at Lenorre. A flood of light from a street lamp spilled across her features, illuminating one side of her face. Braking for a red light, I stared out the windshield, waiting for it to turn green.

  “You’re doing it again,” I said.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Staring,” I said.

  “It truly bothers you?” She sounded curious and perplexed, as if she couldn’t understand how being stared at would ever make a woman so uncomfortable.

  “It feels like you’re dissecting me with your eyes.”

  “And that is such a bad thing?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It depends on what kind of mental notes you’re making.”

  “Do you wish to know?”

  I eased my foot back on the brake, slowing down enough to allow a couple to cross the street. The man had a little blonde in jeans and heels tucked into the crook of his arm. He raised his hand in my direction, a gesture of thanks. I offered a nod in acknowledgment, whether he could see it or not.

  “Sure,” I answered.

  “I am thinking that you find it so uncomfortable being stared at because it makes it nearly impossible for you to ignore the person that is staring.”

  At that, I couldn’t help it. I grinned. “You’re not charging by the hour, are you?”

  She raised both of her brows, giving me a look. “That was cleverly evasive.”

  I smiled softly. “I have my moments.”

  “The light is green.”

  I turned my attention back to the road. “So it is,” I said, and started scanning the street for a place to park.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Heartland Park is a swell of hills nestled just below the heart of the city. The buildings and skyscrapers towered above us like metal giants. Legally, the park would be closed to visitors at eleven in the evening. It was about twenty minutes until nine, so we had plenty of time. Lenorre was silent as we walked down the three flights of stairs that led to the pond. The path wove intricately around the large body of water. Old-fashioned lamp posts arched above the winding path, and what the lamps didn’t illuminate, the lights of the city brought into view.

  I walked across the wooden bridge and stopped for a moment to enjoy the view. The lights and foliage reflected off the water like a surrealist’s painting, bent and distorted, but no less beautiful for it.

  The path led us on an incline up the side of the hill and around the pond. The smell of juniper was strong on the breeze. I ducked away from a spider’s web as we walked under an old wooden archway. Lights that were set into small stone pillars replaced the lamplights. Lenorre stopped and turned to look at me. I almost bumped into her.

  She’d taken her gloves off and left them in the car. Her fingers brushed my neck as she tenderly guided the tresses of hair behind my shoulder. I could feel the effects of the wine flooding warmth throughout my body, calming my mind like a comfortable blanket. Her eyes were dark as she looked at me. She reached up, hesitantly at first, and when I didn’t step back, she touched my face. I had a moment to wonder if she was going to kiss me before her eyes cast downward. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. She stared at the pulse in my throat like it was something she wanted to unwrap.

  I stepped back then. “Oh no,” I said, “just because you bought dinner does not mean I have to open a vein and provide you with yours.”

  Before she could open her mouth to speak, a scream ripped through the night air like the wild and terrible cry of a banshee.

  Lenorre snapped out of her trance as she turned and looked into the night. I watched as her nostrils flared slightly. I felt the hair at the back of my neck rise. Goose bumps marched down the length of my arms. Another cry pierced the silence, and the fear in that one cry rode so thickly in the air that I thought I was going to choke on it. I felt my senses sharpen. The wolf stirred in her den, peeking out into the world with eyes that were my own. I couldn’t think as a sense of helplessness and fear slammed into me. I couldn’t shield against it. I flung off my heels and I began running toward the garden, leaping over a flight of steps and landing on my feet. I didn’t stop running. The trees stretched toward the sky. I slipped silently between their trunks. I could hear small helpless sounds from within the dense gardens, but those weren’t the only sounds I heard. A low guttural growl vibrated through the night.

  Hands caught me and shoved me against one of the trees. Lenorre was suddenly there, pinning my shoulders.

  I whispered, “What are you doing?”

  “You are not the only wolf in this park,” she said.

  I placed my heel against the trunk and pushed off. “I know.”

  She saw the movement and moved away so quickly that I stumbled. I looked between the trees. The light in the area beyond was scarcer, but by the light of the crescent moon and the wolf’s keen night vision, I could make out two shapes.

  Lenorre kept her voice at a whisper. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “Swoop in and save her? Risk exposing yourself?”

  “No,” I said as I began taking off my coat. “I’m not going to expose myself.” I started unlacing the bodice of my corset. “But I am going to save her.” Carver? I wondered. Could it be? I shrugged out of the dress. It fell in a heap of cloth at my feet.

  If it was, I would find him. I would stop him.

  I knelt on the ground wearing only my undergarments. I didn’t care if Lenorre was staring at me. I let go of all of my cares. I drew the smell of the night into my lungs. The smell of juniper clung to me. I opened myself, like I’d open a door, a window, or the lid on a box. I had to open something in my psyche to let her out. As soon as I opened that part of myself that kept her inside, she came running down the line of my soul and out of my physical body. Once it had been painful. It had been so painful I’d passed out. Now I gave myself to the shift like a woman giving herself to orgasm. Every muscle in my body clenched like a fist a second before the change took me under. There was a second of agonizing pain as every muscle went rigid, and then the wolf pushed out against the surface of my skin, breaking free of her fleshy prison.

  Distantly, I heard the sounds of my bones grinding and popping. I felt my nails lengthening, pads forming where palms once were, felt things moving like a wave gathering in the ocean, and spi
lling, spilling out of my skin, spilling out of my mouth in a howl and a tidal wave of white fur.

  I collapsed on my side, snout in the dirt, maw agape, panting, trying to catch my breath, to remember how my lungs worked.

  I stood on my rear paws and turned to look at Lenorre. I couldn’t hear her breathing. My ears swiveled in her direction, listening for a heartbeat and not finding one. Her stormy eyes met mine, and there was something in them that I couldn’t read. I lowered myself to the ground, and flung myself through the trees. I had forgotten how good it felt to feel the earth colliding under my paws, to feel the world as it melted into so many scents and sounds.

  The wolf’s growl grew louder and my hackles rose to attention. My paws hit the ground like war drums. The gray wolf grew in my vision. I lowered myself and pushed off the earth with all of my might. I flung my furred body into the air and hit the other wolf like a bullet nailing its target. The impact sent us both scattering to the ground.

  Another scream pierced the air. I scrambled to my paws as the gray wolf did the same. A deep bass growl sent a shudder of power down my spine like a line of hot flame.

  I drew my lips back, snarling, but I did not spare a glance at the screaming woman.

  Slowly, the gray wolf in front of me stood on its hind legs and erased any doubts from my mind that it might not have been a he. By rising, bipedal before me, his maleness dangled in plain view. I made a disgusted noise low in my throat.

  “Small,” I said very carefully with the wolf’s tongue. It is possible to speak in animal form, but the words always sound distorted. A wolf’s mouth is not made for human words. It is our human selves that give us the capability, our knowledge of words and shaping vowels.

  He took a step toward me. “Bitch.”

  I gave a bark of laughter, drawing my ears back in challenge. “Obviously.”

  He leapt. I flung my body to the left, rolling across the grass and springing to my feet, trying to dodge the blow. He was there, suddenly, clawed hands seeking my face. I growled, snapping, just barely managing to evade his attack.