by R. J. Blain
Richard chewed on his lip, clutching his mug as though it were a lifeline. “I was carrying Sasha, which wasn’t unusual. As a Normal, she had asthma—at least, I thought she had asthma. Alicia did as well. That night I found out it wasn’t asthma.”
“What was it?” I whispered.
“Cystic fibrosis, and both of them had it. Alicia confessed she had been sneaking doctor’s visits for treatment for the both of them when Tully was away. She hadn’t told Tully she was sick. Anyway, the treatments weren’t working. They had given Sasha six months.”
I clapped my hands over my mouth. “Oh my God.”
“Alicia wanted me to perform the ritual on Sasha. She said she couldn’t keep going with the lies, telling Tully everything was okay and trying to believe it. So, I took them to a secluded spot, away from where the Normals go. I performed the ritual on Sasha. What Alicia hadn’t told me is that she had already been given her six months as well—more than five months ago. Once Sasha was a wolf, Alicia… just stopped. It was like someone had pulled her plug.”
“Are you saying Sasha’s mom died?” I demanded. “But you said they underwent the ritual together.”
“They did. Shifting as fast as possible hurts like you wouldn’t believe, so you know. So, Sasha was a wolf—a tiny little puppy not even sure how to stand on four paws yet. Fenerec don’t normally bleed when we change—only when a change takes too long or we try to hurry it. Well, I shifted so fast I about killed myself doing it. CPR’s risky to begin with, but Sasha’s mom wasn’t breathing, and I couldn’t let Tully’s mate die without doing something about it. We say you can’t force the ritual on someone, but it’s not technically true. It can be done in a near-death situation.”
“What happened?”
“I forced the ritual on Alicia while giving her CPR to keep her alive long enough to do it. She wasn’t conscious to agree, but it worked. Next thing I know, it’s the next day, Tully’s ready to skin me for a pelt, and his mate’s standing over me growling while his daughter—still a little, clumsy puppy—was bouncing around him wanting to play because she could without wheezing for the first time in her life. There are pictures of that, too. It worked out—barely.”
“You cause trouble wherever you go, don’t you?” I accused.
“I don’t cause the trouble. It finds me.” Richard took a sip of his coffee, grabbed the bottle of chocolate liquor, and added more to his mug. “Some more? If you don’t tell anyone, I won’t.”
“Sharing is caring,” I replied, holding out my hand for the bottle, which he gave to me. “Can I have a glass? I want to try it without the coffee contaminating it.”
Richard got up, went to the cabinet, and pulled out a shot glass, which he slid to me. “The stuff packs a punch, so don’t have too much.”
“Warning acknowledged and ignored,” I replied, pouring a splash into the glass so I could sip at it. Chocolate liquor was heaven and hell rolled together. It burned all the way down my throat. “Better than Dad’s turpentine at least.”
Planting his elbows on the counter, Richard leaned towards me, his eyes narrowed. “So, your parents tossed you into the deep end and expected you to swim. Well, to answer your earlier question, yes, females can initiate things the same way males can.”
I flushed. “Oh.”
“He probably didn’t tell you much of anything, did he? Typical. I’m assuming you know nothing, so be patient with me if I tell you something you already know.” Richard frowned, watching me.
I nodded, waving at him to continue.
“Fenerec and Fenerec-born bitches mature faster than Normals, both mentally and physically. At fifteen, you’re easily the match for any adult human woman. You’re smart, you’re stable, and you probably won’t grow another inch to save your life. You were probably the tallest girl in your class until you reached maturity. I’d guess at eleven, if that’s when your father started bringing the puppies around.”
I swallowed, wondering if I could get away with taking a long swig of the alcohol straight from the bottle. Embarrassed, I stared down at the gray and pink granite countertop. “I was hoping I’d get a little taller,” I complained, sighing in resignation. “I’m doomed to be short, aren’t I?”
Picking up his mug, he tapped his against mine. “Let’s just say I won’t ever be a contender for the high jump competition myself. Fenerec-born puppies begin adolescence at around age seven. I’ll spare you the details, but by the time you were eleven, you were a match for the average sixteen year old—those with Normal parents, that is. Most go through school at a normal rate of progression, but you’re the perfect example of a Fenerec-born bitch who chose to act her mental age instead of her physical one.”
“But people know I’m a minor when they see me,” I protested.
“Also part of being Fenerec-born. You’ll probably fill out a little in the next few years, and your face will mature, but in all ways that matters, you were a full-grown adult at thirteen. Most thirteen year olds are equivalent to eighteen.”
“And the boys are the same way?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“So why bring over so many boys for the winter? I mean, Lisa enjoys the sex. Okay, fine, so she really likes it. But she’s never wanted anything more than that.”
Richard drained his mug of coffee, shoved it aside, and slumped over the island. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”
“I just want to know what the point is.”
“If those puppies were smart, they would keep their pants zipped up and try to actually court you instead of jumping into bed for a wild night,” he grumbled. “Mating bonds only take hold if both parties want it. Sometimes it’s an instinctual wanting, but there you have it. End of story. If you or your sister just think of it as a night of sex, that’s exactly what you’ll get out of it. But, maybe that’s why your father and mother didn’t tell you about it. Ignorance is a good way to prevent a mating bond from taking hold, although it’s not a guarantee. Desmond’s too clever for his own good sometimes.”
Richard growled something under his breath, drumming his fingers on the granite.
“Okay.” I flushed, wondering if I really wanted to know the answer to my next question—and if I was brave enough to ask Richard.
“From my understanding, you’ve been avoiding the winter rut as much as possible, trying to make yourself unappealing to hopeful males,” Richard stated, resting his cheek on his arm, head tilted so he could stare up at me.
His brown eyes were flecked with gold.
“I do not like being treated like a cheap whore.”
Richard snickered. “I can’t imagine you allowing anyone to treat you like a cheap anything.”
Burning with embarrassment, I considered pouring my coffee over his head. Instead, I drank it all, treating it as I had my father’s Scotch. “I hate it. They say hello, play nice to Dad, and come upstairs, confident they’ll get exactly what they want, and they do. All they have to do is take a nip, and that’s it. I become a cheap whore. To make matters worse, I’m the unwanted seconds compared to my sister.”
“You’re not a cheap whore.”
“Says who?”
“Anyone with half a brain and a single grain of common sense. There’s a very, very simple way to put an end to it, Miss Desmond,” Richard said, grabbing the chocolate liquor, twisting off the cap, and filling my shot glass. He slid it to me before splashing some more alcohol into his mug.
I took the glass, and because drinking beat crying, I shot it back. “How?”
Richard sighed, sipping at his mug before taking the chocolate liquor, turning around, and placing it on the counter behind him. “You say no. Scrunch your shoulders, duck your chin, and tell them no. No is a powerful word, Miss Desmond. Use it.”
“It can’t be that easy.”
Snorting, Richard lowered his chin, lifting his shoulders to make accessing his neck difficult, and watched me. “I will sit here. Try to reach my neck—don’t bite or nip,
just try to poke me with your nose. Try it. I promise you it’s not easy.”
I stood. While the alcohol was making my head feel a bit numb and tingly, I circled the island, narrowing my eyes as I looked at his throat. “The back of your neck’s exposed.”
“The nerves you want to hit aren’t there. If you wanted to kill me, yes, I’d be in trouble,” he replied, turning on his stool to face me. He clasped his hands on his lap and waited. “Please don’t; it hurts enough.”
“So you want me to touch my nose to the side of your neck.”
“Exactly. Don’t worry. You’re not going to do anything doing that. It’s just for demonstration.”
“Fine.” Narrowing my eyes, I dipped my head down, trying to jab my nose at his neck. He tilted his head. Our foreheads collided. I yelped, slapping my hands over my brow. “Ouch.”
“With my shoulders scrunched up like this, you could try all night, and I’d just have to turn my head to avoid your teeth. If you wanted to touch my neck without me wanting you to, you’d have to wrestle with me. Force me. But, unless the Fenerec is on the verge of running wild or really lost in the rut, a simple no will suffice. We take so many precautions around the full moon because, well, Fenerec are strong, stubborn, and stupid. To make matters worse, we’re strong, stubborn, stupid, and fast, so you could get nipped before you had a chance to say no.”
“Oh.”
“That’s really all you need to know, Nicolina. Say no. Hunch your shoulders, glare, and say no. If one tries to advance on you, shoot him. If you aren’t in a position to shoot him, scream. But say no. You always have a choice.”
“Mom and Dad told me to scream at the hotel if you tried anything,” I muttered, biting my lip as I remembered his touch on my throat. “They said if I did, though, we would be sharing a bed in the same room with them.”
Richard shuddered. “Thank you for not screaming.” With a sigh, he relaxed his shoulders.
While I never would match a Fenerec for speed, I darted forward before he could defend himself against me, pressing my nose to his neck. “I win.”
“Clever girl,” he muttered.
“I like that movie,” I said, bumping his neck with my nose. “I won, so what’s my prize?”
“We were wagering on this?”
“You said you could guard your neck all night long. Yet here we are. My nose is touching your throat. You lose, Mr. Murphy. What’s my prize?”
Richard laughed, his throat vibrating as he chuckled. “Okay, you win. What do you want?”
“Your pool,” I grumbled.
“Sorry, Miss Desmond. If you want the house, you have to marry the owner.”
“Just the pool,” I complained, flushing at the thought of owning the owner—of having Richard to myself.
“Package deal. No house, no owner, no pool. Sorry, Miss Desmond. We could, however, go for a swim in the pool and watch that movie if you’d like. I even know how to use most of the things in this kitchen if we happen to want something to eat later.”
I considered, nodded, and straightened, pulling away from him. “Very well.”
“If you’re planning on shooting me to take ownership of my house, make certain you avoid damaging the pool. I’d hate to have to explain to everyone downstairs why they’re reenacting Noah’s flood.” Richard grinned at me, standing and returning the bottle to the cupboard.
“Are we drunk enough to drown?” I pondered, browsing his selection of liquors. The bottom was a wine and champagne rack. I stooped down, pulling out one of the bottles. I recognized the label from New Year’s last year, when my mother and father gave us a glass for the evening toast. “Bubblies!”
“You’re going to be hungover if you drink that,” Richard warned.
I sighed, grabbing hold of the bottle’s neck so I could return it to the cabinet. “True.”
Richard snagged the champagne out of my hands. “Fifty-fifty, and whoever falls asleep first loses.”
“No tricks,” I snapped, glaring at him. When he gawked at me and said nothing, I blurted, “No magic hand neck trick things from you, Mr. Murphy.”
I flushed when I realized what I had said, slapping my hands over my mouth.
Pulling down two champagne flutes from the cupboard, Richard smiled at me. “I solemnly swear I will do no magic hand neck trick things, Miss Desmond. I shall be a perfect gentleman while we watch dinosaurs eat people.”
“You, perfect?” I snorted, following him out of the kitchen. “That’ll be a cold day in hell. Hey, do you have the sequels?”
“I may be guilty of such a crime,” Richard replied. “You have a choice. Uncomfortable couch with small television or a comfy bed with a big screen.”
“If I choose the comfy bed, will you fall asleep faster?”
“Inevitably.” Turning around to face me, Richard waited for my decision, arching a brow at me. When I remained silent, he asked, “Well?”
I considered my choices. Either way, I’d spend at least a few hours with Richard. I had his Beretta. I should have been worried, but I wasn’t.
If I didn’t want him touching me, he wouldn’t.
If I did, would he?
I shivered, and hoping I wasn’t about to make a very bad mistake, I murmured, “Bed.”
~~*~~
Gold, brown, and red dominated Richard’s bedroom, with the rich gold of the oak dresser contrasting with the dark browns of the bookcases lining the walls. The bedding was the same brown as his eyes, offset by the golden oak hardwood floor. The television mounted on the wall across the room from his queen-sized bed was so large I gawked at it.
Richard set the glasses and the champagne bottle on the nightstand, turned to me, and laughed. “Like that, do you?”
“I’ll take it and the pool,” I declared.
Richard snaked his arm around my waist and yanked me to him. “No television or pool unless you take the house and its owner with them. Naughty little thief. No stealing my things.”
“I haven’t stolen them yet.” I spun out of his hold. Misjudging my distance, my knees hit the side of the bed, and with a startled squeak, I fell onto the mattress face first. Spitting curses, which the blankets muffled, I crawled on, flopping over onto my back. “Which side?”
“Whichever one you want.”
I sprawled in the middle, smirking at him.
“The middle isn’t a side,” he grumbled, and pointing the champagne bottle towards the door, he launched the cork across his bedroom. It bounced against the door and disappeared into the hallway. “Would the lady like some bubblies?”
“She would,” I said, sitting up. If he wanted me on a side, he’d have to move me. When I went home to Seattle, I was going to find a way to steal his mattress in addition to his television and his pool. I grabbed pillows from the far side and piled them up behind me. “You have more pillows than I do.”
“Alex has one. One. I keep telling him he’s insane. What if he loses it in the middle of the night? A proper bed has so many pillows it’s impossible to lose them all,” Richard declared in a solemn voice, offering me one of the filled flutes. “I think he gets up and comes in to steal mine. I’m surrounded by thieves.”
“Poor Richard. If you’d just give me the television and the pool, I wouldn’t have to steal them from you.” I sipped at the champagne. Unlike my father’s turpentine, I enjoyed the crisp, sweet taste. “I’m pretty sure you owe me at least the pool.”
“Package deal, Miss Desmond. That’s final.” Grabbing the remote from the dresser, Richard sat on the edge of the bed and turned the television on. Instead of the standard selection of channels, Richard browsed through a list of movies. Finding Jurassic Park, he chose it and started the film. Tossing the remote onto the nightstand, he joined me at the head of the bed.
“The pool’s mine. So is the television. Both of them are going home with me.” I faked a sniffle, sipping at my champagne. “You just haven’t realized it yet.”
“And just how are you going to remov
e the entire third floor of my house and move it to Seattle?” Richard laughed, taking a drink of his champagne.
“Quiet,” I ordered. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
~~*~~
Richard slumped against me, his head resting on my shoulder. Startled, I glanced at him. His slow, even breaths tickled my neck, and his eyes were closed.
The T-Rex hadn’t even eaten the lawyer yet.
“Richard?”
When he didn’t respond, I reached over and took his glass out of his limp hand. Fortunately, it was empty. Unfortunately, I couldn’t reach either nightstand.
Draining the rest of my glass, I set the flutes as close to the edge of the bed as I could without knocking them to the floor or disturbing Richard. At a loss for what to do, I kept watching the movie, stealing peeks at him between the good parts.
The chocolate liquor and champagne probably had something to do with it, but Richard relaxed in sleep. If the tension plaguing him lingered, I couldn’t find any sign of it.
Richard’s cell, a spare Alex had given him, rang. When Yellowknife’s Alpha didn’t even twitch, I pulled the phone out of his shirt pocket. It was his brother. Sighing, I considered letting it go to voice mail, but realizing Alex would come up to find out what was going on, I answered, “Hey, Alex.”
“Nicolina? Why are you answering Richard’s phone?”
“I’m watching Jurassic Park. He’s asleep. Didn’t want the noise to wake him. Is something wrong?”
“Oh. No, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to check in with him and make sure everything was okay.”
“He seems fine, out like a light. Didn’t even budge when the phone rang,” I replied, and unable to help myself, I smiled at Richard.
“I’ll come move him after your movie,” Alex offered.
I flushed, wondering how Richard’s brother would react when I told him where we were—and how I would explain why I was in bed with Richard. Drawing a deep breath to steady myself, I replied, “We are watching it in his room. At least, I think it’s his room? The television is really, really nice.”
