by Naomi Clark
WOLF STRAP
Naomi Clark
T
he boy was cold by the time the police found him. His blood dried to a tacky rust-red stain on his clothes and face. His limbs bent at cruel angles. He lay in the alley in a mound of fetid rubbish, the scent of death lingering in the cold air, mixing with the reek of rotting food. On the wall behind the teenager, a single word was scrawled in huge letters, the paint the same dark red as the boy’s blood.
“Oh Jesus,” one of the cops whispered. “A kid? What kind of sick fuck would do this?”
Swallowing bile, his werewolf partner moved closer to the corpse and identified another scent underlying the others, a clean, musky smell that triggered a fresh wave of nausea in him.
“Not just any kid, Hesketh,” he said. “A Pack kid.”
Hesketh wet his lips. “A dead Pack kid.”
The silence weighed heavily between them. Neither spoke again.
M
y wolf snarled and whined at the thought of being trapped on a plane for three hours. I struggled to tamp down my inner beast’s fear of containment and focus on happier thoughts. Like Shannon’s jasmine and sandalwood fragrance or the soft feel of my favorite hoodie against my skin, or the fact that any minute now I’d be thousands of feet up in the air with absolutely no control over this great winged death trap…
“Damn.” I chewed my sleeve, working hard not to hyperventilate as the wolf scratched at the doors of my mind, demanding release.
“Ayla?” Shannon brushed my knee lightly. “Are you okay?”
I dredged up a tight smile for my lover. “Airplanes.” I shrugged and spread my hands in a helpless gesture.
Shannon laughed and her light caress became a squeeze. “My fearless werewolf,” she teased.
“Wolves aren’t meant to fly,” I grumbled, clutching the armrests of my seat. “Wolves belong on the ground.”
“Poor baby. I’ll have to think of something to distract you.” She leaned in, the silky locks of her hair falling over her shoulder to brush my arm in a sensuous sweep. “Do wolves ever join the mile high club?”
I caught the scent of Shannon’s arousal, a musky, sweet perfume that never failed to turn both me and the wolf on. For a second the tightness in my chest was nothing to do with fear of flying. Then the engines roared and the plane lurched forwards, breaking the spell. I closed my eyes and tried not to whimper. “Not this one.”
Shannon settled back in her seat with a sigh. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Adam was my nephew. I remember playing with him when he was just a cub, teaching him how to stalk rabbits…” I smiled, hot tears pricking at my eyelids. I fought them back. “I want to say goodbye, you know?”
“Of course you do. But your parents–”
“I might not even see them. Pack funerals…it’ll be crowded.” I wondered who I was trying to convince, since I certainly hadn’t convinced myself. My wolf bristled at the thought of my parents, hackles rising. I opened my eyes enough to see Shannon frowning at me, concern marring her delicate features. “Thanks for coming with me,” I said. “You didn’t have to. It’s going to be… difficult.”
Shannon wrapped her hand around mine and opened her mouth, but her words were lost in the roar of the plane’s engines as we rose off the runway. I squeaked, a very non-werewolf sound, and scrunched my eyes shut once more.
Shannon’s fingers stroked my knuckles, a tender touch that calmed me a little.
“Think happy thoughts.”
I was on my way to a city I’d left eight years ago, home to a family who didn’t want me, to the funeral of a nephew I barely knew. There weren’t enough happy thoughts on the planet.
The death of a child is a tragedy under any circumstances. For Pack it’s even worse, given the low birth rates amongst werewolf bitches. Adam’s death would affect the whole community, not just his immediate family. There was no way I could stay away from the funeral, no matter how hard it might be for me personally.
It wasn’t that my parents had a problem with homosexuality. They just had a problem with my homosexuality. Pack women had babies, it was our duty. No excuses accepted. Mum and Dad had freaked when I came out to them, Mum especially. She was a throwback, my mother. A Stepford Wolf. It was incomprehensible to her that I might not want to get married and start pumping out pups.
For a couple of tense years they tried to persuade me I was just going through a phase, and I tried to convince them I wasn’t. The first time I brought a girl home, for my seventeenth birthday party, all hell broke loose. I’d hopped on the first plane out of the city the next morning and never been back. Now, watching the ground dwindle away beneath the rising plane, the clouds drifting in to mask the earth below, my stomach churned with more than just travel sickness.
My wolf raised its hackles, the beast within feeding on my gnawing tension. I wanted my parents to be happy to see me. I wanted them to accept Shannon. I wanted this to be happening under different circumstances.
D
espite everything, I felt a little rush of excitement as the captain told us to buckle up for landing. The city looked just as I remembered. A sprawling glitter of high-rise glass buildings, interspersed with lush green parks. Clean and modern, it was a testimony to the partnership between Pack and humans. In other parts of the country relationships were less cordial, and Pack members were treated like freaks, monsters, something I’d experienced firsthand when I first struck out on my own. They lived in ghettos, cut off from the pure humans and existing in an uneasy balance between superior strength and superior numbers. But here the humans had been quick to seize upon the advantages offered by a Pack alliance. Why not use the wolves’ strength and heightened senses to benefit everyone? The Pack controlled the construction industry in the city, as well as a lot of the ‘green’ businesses, taking care of all those beautiful parks. The humans held most of the power in terms of politics and legislation, whereas in law enforcement it was pretty even. The humans liked the security that a werewolf police officer brought to their neighborhood. Not many people were stupid enough totake on a wolf in uniform. I smiled wryly.
My smile faded as I thought of Adam. He’d been eight when I last saw him and pretty into cops and robbers. He’d had a toy gun and plastic badge, the works. I wondered if he’d wanted to become a police officer, if he’d harbored ambitions of protecting this city and its people. I chewed my lip, twisting the hoop piercing my lower lip into my mouth to suck on the cool metal.
Shannon nudged me. “You look pale. Need the sick bag?” she asked lightly, trying to rouse me from my mopey silence.
I shook her off with an irritable snarl and turned back to the window, watching the city grow steadily larger as we landed.
W
hatever apprehension I had about seeing my parents again was swept away when I caught sight of Vince in the airport car park. Losing all sense of dignity, I dropped my suitcase and flung myself into his arms with a squeal. He laughed and swung me up easily, his warm, earthy scent enveloping me. Beneath that was a baser, sharper musk that was pure Pack. It had been years since I’d smelled it and it brought tears to my eyes now.
“Oh Vince,” I muttered into his hair.
“Ayla, God, it’s good to see you.” He set me down, held me at arm’s length to study me with a crooked smile. “Loving the hair, girlfriend.” He ran his hand over my shaggy black spikes. “Makes you look so cute.”
I glowered. I was short for a wolf, with an angelic countenance I’d desperately tried to combat with piercings and a punky haircut. Apparently it hadn’t worked. “You look exactly the same,” I told him. “Still lanky and skinny.”
He opened his mouth to retort but Shannon interrupted him by dumping my abandoned suitcase between us. “Nice,
Ayla. Just leave the weak and feeble human to carry the luggage.” She flicked her honey-blonde hair from her eyes and offered Vince a hand.
“I’m Shannon Ryan.”
“Vince Taylor.” He shook her hand carefully, avoiding the crushing grip he might have offered me. “Nice to finally meet you, Shannon.” Then, gentleman to the last, he picked up both our bags and carried them to his car. “Come on, ladies. Let’s get you home.”
Vince lived on Larkspur, an estate bordering one of the larger parks in the city. Designed specifically for the Pack, it was a luxury estate catering to the wealthier Pack members, the kind that wanted indoor pools and two-car garages at their disposal. Vince was a sous-chef. I raised an eyebrow as we pulled into his drive.
Catching my expression he grinned.
“It’s Joel’s place.”
“You didn’t tell me he was rich.” I stared up at the elegant house, suddenly burningly conscious of my clomping boots and battered leather jacket.
“He’s an architect. Let’s get inside.” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose, a nervous habit that set me on edge instantly. A faint smell of fear, like rotting fruit, touched my nostrils and my inner wolf went on alert. “We need to talk,” he said.
“M
urdered?” I echoed for perhaps the fifth time. “Adam?”
I clutched Shannon’s hand tight enough to make her wince. “Murdered?”
Vince pushed a mug of hot chocolate, heavily laced with brandy, towards me. “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
I wrapped my numb fingers around the mug, letting the too-hot ceramic warm me. “What happened?”
He shifted uncomfortably on the teak kitchen chair. For a werewolf, Vince had always been pretty squeamish. “He was beaten to death.”
I closed my eyes against the image that sprang to vivid, bloody life before them. “He was sixteen,” I whispered.
“Do the police have any leads?” Shannon asked, sounding far calmer than I thought she ought to. I guess she was used to this kind of talk, more so than me. Shannon was a private investigator, although admittedly the majority of her cases involved cheating spouses and tax evasion, not dead werewolves.
“Not really. Nothing solid. Except–” Vince hesitated, heaved a huge sigh. “There was some graffiti on the alley where they found him. The papers are speculating it was Alpha Humans, but the police aren’t saying anything.”
I grimaced. I’d seen a couple of reports on Alpha Human attacks in the past few years. The signature was always the same, the legend ‘abomination’ scrawled near the body. They were a militant group and three or four of them armed with lead pipes would be more than a match for a teenage werewolf. Even an adult wolf, caught unaware, might be taken down. If this was another city, I wouldn’t have been surprised, but here, with relations between humans and Pack as good as they were…
“Any similar attacks in the area recently?” I asked, sipping my hot chocolate and trying to sound as detached and professional as Shannon.
“Nothing in the papers. This kind of thing just doesn’t happen round here, Ayla, you know that.” Vince rubbed the back of his neck, looking equal parts dismayed and baffled.
It did now. I stared at the smooth granite surface of the breakfast bar and once again tried to block the image of Adam, bloodied and battered, from my mind. I couldn’t force it away though, and I was infinitely grateful when Vince’s other half got home.
I’d heard about Joel, but none of Vince’s rapturous emails did the other wolf justice. Lean and blond, sharp-eyed and strong-bodied, the kind of wolf my mum would have loved me to bring home.
“So me and Vince were planning a run tonight,” he told me once all the introductions were done. “We’d love you to come with us, Ayla.” He glanced at Shannon. “And I guess you…”
“Could run along behind?” Shannon smiled and shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. I know I can’t compete with you guys in that respect. I’ll get an early night, thanks.”
I was touched that Joel had thought to invite Shannon along even knowing there was no way a human could join in a wolf run. And I was touched he’d invited me, given my outcast status. Wolves who left the Pack tended to lead solitary lives because there was always a good reason they’d left in the first place. The kind of reason that stopped them joining another Pack.
T
he night air was cool and crisp, carrying the scents of city and park to me. Petrol and cherry blossom, fast food and pond water. I inhaled deeply, letting it all wash over me and call to my wolf. New aromas, new places to explore, I promised her. High overhead, skirting through iron-grey clouds, a crescent moon bathed the park in thin, pale rays. In another week or so she would be full and every wolf in the country would be baying their respects to her bone white face.
Beside me, Vince and Joel were stripping off. Moonlight painted them ivory, lending a fey cast to their faces. I inhaled once more, taking in their mingled scents. My wolf stirred, excited by their presence. My runs had been solitary ever since I left home, but my wolf remembered too clearly running through the streets with Vince, chasing rats and snapping playfully at each others’ tails.
Feeling the change approach, I quickly shed my clothes too, tossing them over the fence into Joel’s garden. The night breeze kissed my bare skin, teasing and inviting. The park stretched out before me, a maze of slender trees and shadowed pathways. As the wolf grew stronger, so did my senses and I picked up the enticing musk of rabbit and deer. Shivering with anticipation, I dropped to all fours and let the change take me.
Shannon once asked me to describe the change to her. She’s seen it happen once or twice, but she wanted to know how it felt, what it was like to have your body remake itself so swiftly and completely. The best way to describe it is like your body is eating itself. Everything feels like it’s shrinking down, tearing apart because your mind has decided it doesn’t need this shape anymore. It needs something different and it burns through your current shape to make it. It’s crunching pain, followed by such wicked relief you just want to weep.
It’s over very quickly. A few seconds after dropping to the ground, I shook out my ruff and flicked my ears, taking in the myriad new sounds. Car engines stalling, doors slamming, cats yowling. Turning my head, I saw Vince and Joel complete their own changes. Two men became two wolves, one rusty blonde, the other dusty black. The black wolf, Vince, yapped happily atme and darted over to nip at my tail. I snarled and snapped back, my wolf self briefly forgetting he wasn’t a threat.
He flattened his ears and licked my muzzle. I whined an apology and returned the gesture. Then I jumped and whirled round to snap at Joel, who’d snuck up behind me to sniff my backside. He growled back, a challenge in his amber eyes. My hackles rose and for a second we stood in deadlock, sizing each other up. The rules and etiquette of wolf shape are very different to those of human shape. Joel was assessing me as a wolf, not as the woman he’d met a couple of hours ago. And I was doing the same, the wolf asking questions the woman wouldn’t: friend or foe?
Vince broke the tension by throwing himself at Joel with a playful yip, and the two went tumbling tail over head, an impromptu game of chase breaking out. I shook myself and loped after them, experiencing a spike of envy that my own mate couldn’t run with me. I soon forgot that though, when Vince tore away from Joel to come wrestle with me. Then all the old instincts took over and I lost myself to the wolf completely.
I could have run for days. The ground was soft but solid underfoot, the park a wonderland of game and hiding places. The moon grew brighter as the clouds drifted on, illuminating every hidden treasure. I didn’t catch any deer, but I found a couple of rabbits. Vince and Joel brought down a few of their own, snapping the little necks with practised bites and tussling over the warm flesh in faux-aggression. I sought out a large pond after my snack, wanting to wash the blood from my muzzle. I hadn’t been swimming in my wolf body for a long time and the rush of water over my fur was delicious. It
struck me, as it always did, that I could stay wolf forever, give up my human half and abandon myself completely to the wilderness.
But I always banished that thought as quickly as it came, chased it away with an image of honey-blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, a scent-memory of jasmine and sandalwood. Splashing out of the pond, I found my fellow wolves and let them guide me back to Joel’s house. The wolf world was a wonderland but without Shannon it was a lonely one.
I
changed shape in the garden, whispering my goodnights to the two men before creeping into the guest room where Shannon slept. My night vision, exceptional as a wolf, was well beyond average for a human, and I stood for a moment admiring the play of moonlight on her face. It brushed her with silver, transforming her into something too ethereal and tantalizing for mere humanity.
Perhaps she sensed my presence. She opened her eyes and beckoned me silently to join her. I slipped under the duvet, sliding my arms around her. She stroked my hair, pulling out a few stray twigs with a sleepy smile. “You smell like wet dog,” she mumbled.
I ran my hands down her back, over the soft curve of her hips. “You love it.”
“I love you.” She kissed me, her lips warm and dry, the last vestiges of sleep falling away from her. She twisted in my arms until we were inextricably tangled, limbs twined together, her hair brushing my throat and shoulders as we kissed. A need hotter than the burn of change consumed me as I nipped and bit tenderly at her throat and she dragged her nails down my sides and pushed her breasts against mine. The sensation left me breathless, helpless in her arms.
She dictated the pace, as always. I had to be careful, so careful not to hurt her. So Shannon took control, kissing and caressing her way down my body while I writhed and moaned in pleasure. She rose up to lick my nipples, sucking them into taut peaks and pulling frantic whimpers from me. The animal part of me wanted to take her, assert my dominance, but I held that part back, clamping down the instincts that roared inside me whenever we made love.
