The Mating Game

by Melissa Snark

  Carl Reynolds stood dead center on her front walk, blocking her way into the house. Fists clenched, he bristled with malevolent intent, but remained a man, not a wolf. Still, even without a wolf’s claws and fangs, his strength was far greater than that of any human.

  For precious seconds, Theresa panicked and froze in her tracks. The coil of fear held her imprisoned while he advanced on her. He towered over her, and she had to tilt her head back in order to gaze up at him. He reeked of booze and irrational rage.

  “You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, don’tcha? Adam’s fucking Heart of the Wolf.” His mouth contorted into an ugly sneer, and his eyes were narrowed with hatred. The ambient aura roiled with dark emotions, and his vehemence shocked her.

  Terrified, she glanced around, but there was no help to be found. At well past midnight, none of her neighbors were outside, a situation that was probably for the best. An unarmed human could do nothing to help her and would certainly die if caught between two battling werewolves.

  Her throat felt so tight it hurt, but she swallowed and found her voice. “I don’t think I’m better than anyone, Carl.”

  His face turned ruddy. “Don’t lie to me, bitch! It’s past time someone put you in your place.”

  Ice formed in her gut and dark emotions welled up in her soul. Anger. Revulsion. Those were words she’d heard before from Antonio, from others—the language of bullies. Any time a weaker wolf demonstrated the slightest strength or achieved success, oppressors responded with violence and intimidation.

  “You’re making a serious mistake,” Theresa said, infusing her voice with as much confidence as she could muster. In the grip of conflicted anger and fear, she wanted to launch an attack against him, but the reasoning part of her mind recognized that she was outmatched. Instead, she backed toward her car parked in the driveway. It was less than thirty feet away, but it might as well have been thirty thousand. She could have tried to outrun him, but turning her back to him would leave her open to an attack.

  A growl erupted from Carl’s throat, and he lunged at her. Theresa ducked and his beefy hands closed on empty air. Powerful but clumsy. He worked as a butcher, and his physique reflected the demanding nature of his job. Speed was on her side.

  She whipped past him and sprinted for the front door, heart racing and blood pounding. The heavy huff of his breathing filled her hearing, and she only made it to the first step before he caught hold of her ponytail. He yanked so that she cried out in both surprise and pain. When he wrenched her head back, she lost her balance and fell. She landed on one knee and scrambled to regain her footing, but he had turned her long tresses into a leash, limiting how far she could get from him.

  “Zach is going to kill you,” Theresa said, hissing between clenched teeth.

  “Zach is in Chicago. I made sure he’d be out of the way before I came after you,” Carl said with a laugh. Then he struck her across the face with his free hand while maintaining his hold on her hair. The blow turned her face, and she tasted blood from a cut on her lower lip.

  She knew that he intended to kill her. A thousand miles separated her from Zach, so he wouldn’t be coming to her rescue. She was alone. No one would save her, so she had to save herself. Gathering her strength and her resolve, Theresa balled her hands and landed a punch square in the middle of his solar plexus. The air expelled from his lungs with a great huff.

  The blow caused him to bend, but he didn’t release her. He growled and gave her ponytail a punishing yank. Theresa snarled and she tugged at the strands of her captured hair, trying to free herself. Unexpected agony erupted in her hands, and it took her several seconds to realize that she’d initiated the change to claws without the assistance of a dominant wolf. Her fingers lengthened and razor-sharp talons sprang out of the tips.

  Violent emotions fed the transformation and, when she sought more power, she encountered a deep well of energy open to her. It took her a stunned moment to recognize the source: Zach. She felt his presence as a palpable force connecting them. It was there within her grasp—she just had to reach out and take it.

  Carl stared at her hands. Surprise crossed his face and he hesitated for a second, considering her with newfound respect. “When did you learn to do that?”

  “Just now,” Theresa said, snapping her reply. She was as astonished as her opponent, maybe more so. In her entire life, she had never managed to perform a partial transformation without the assistance of a dominant wolf. The accomplishment boosted her confidence. Maybe, just maybe, she could win this fight after all.

  Above them, the moon radiated silver light, instilling a primal bloodlust in Theresa. Her claws flashed like knives and she sliced through the hair clutched in Carl’s hand. Once freed, she scrambled away and circled to the right. He swung at her and missed.

  Theresa seized the opening and leapt toward Carl. With a ferocious growl, she swung both of her claws, tipped in razor-sharp nails, and raked his sides. She left long gouges along his ribcage. He yowled in pain and blindly struck out with both hands. A lucky punch caught her chin and knocked her back before she could inflict more damage on his abdomen.

  Carl slugged Theresa again, landing a punch on the side of her face, so that the bones in her cheek broke and her head snapped to the side. Theresa reeled backward and stumbled into her car, banging into the fender. She caught hold of the hood and he hit her again. His fist flattened her nose with a sickening crunch. Blood squirted from her nostrils and excruciating pain caused her vision to blur.

  As she dropped to the ground, landing on her hands and knees, her face underwent a radical change—jaws lengthening to a muzzle capable of accommodating glistening sharp canine teeth. The transformation hurt but it also healed the damage done to her face. Her torso grew heavier and her limbs lengthened, causing her clothing to tear at the seams. She started to recover her bearing when a kick to her ribcage knocked her over and she rolled onto the damp lawn.

  She glared at him and rose onto her hind legs even though she could have moved just as well on all fours. She was half-way through the transformation and knew she bore a marked resemblance to the traditional movie image of what a werewolf should look like. Her face was partially transformed, including elongated jaws and fangs. She had gained a full two feet in height and about fifty pounds. Her hands and ability to stand upright remained intact, but she had full advantage of her teeth and claws.

  “You’re out of control.” Carl’s footsteps tromped on the pavement as he approached her. He drew a silver dagger from a belt sheath.

  “You think I’m out of control because I had the courage to challenge your skank girlfriend?” Theresa asked, eyeing the silver knife with a touch of trepidation. Such weapons inflicted fatal injuries and, if he got a good cut in, he could kill her.

  “For having the nerve to think that you deserve to be our Alpha bitch.” Carl spat the words in disgust. “You don’t know your place.”

  “That was Adam’s idea, not mine!”

  Carl ignored her protest and continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “It’s Antonio’s fault for not having the balls to put you in your place the first time you got out of line.”

  “And you think you can put me in my place.” Her lips peeled back from her teeth and she snarled a challenge, vocalizing her intention to kill him.

  Carl hesitated but refused to back down. “I know I do.”

  Carl lunged and aimed the dagger at her. His long arms swung wide and high, and she ducked the wicked silver blade. She rushed at him fast and low and caught hold of his lower legs with both claws. She ripped through the denim of his jeans and raked his calves with her talons. A grunt of pain rewarded her efforts, and he lost his hold on the knife. It fell to the lawn.

  Blood flowed from the lacerations and coated her hands. He shuffled forward and then back, trying to keep his balance, and attempted to kick her at the same time. His foot connected with her thigh, but his aim was off and the blow didn’t hurt. With all of her strength, The
resa locked her hands about his leg and yanked him off his feet. He crashed to the ground and landed with a muffled thud on the grass beside her. Upon impact, his breath forcibly exited his lungs. He huffed and grunted, heaving onto his side, and grabbed the dropped knife.

  Theresa remained on all fours, head lowered to protect her throat. Desperation had taken the place of her initial burst of confidence. She knew she had to get past his guard before he managed to overpower her. If she failed, then Isabel would lose her mother, and Zach might never know what had happened to her.

  Carl launched a swift strike from his seated position, thrusting the blade at her heart. His attack caused him to overextend his arm, creating an opening in his defenses. She jumped out of the way but the tip of the blade caught her forearm, cutting a long slash from wrist to elbow. The silver burned, and she yipped in agony. Blood gushed from the injury.

  Carl did not recover his guard immediately. Theresa seized on the opening and turned her head to the side, mouth open to deliver a bite. Her jaws closed on his arm just above the wrist. Her teeth sank deep into his flesh, causing him to shout and open his hand. The knife fell from his grip once again.

  Hot, coppery blood filled her mouth and she locked her jaws, determined not to give him another opportunity to attack her with more than his fists. It required some tricky maneuvering, but Theresa managed to knock the blade with her foot, sending it flying into the rose bushes.

  A big engine came roaring out of the darkness. The sudden glare of headlights pointed straight at them lit up both combatants. An SUV bounced over the curb and shot up onto her front lawn. Tires screeched as it skidded to a halt just a yard from them. For a moment, they froze in place, revealed to the outside world.

  Theresa cast a frantic glance around, looking for any signs of witnesses. So far, she hadn’t noticed any of her neighbors emerge from their houses, but the entire fight couldn’t have lasted much more than a minute. However, with the ruckus they were making, it wouldn’t be long before someone saw them. Worst case scenario, the police arrived in response to a 911 call and she got spotted in her half-wolf form.

  The door of the SUV flew open, and the vehicle’s sole occupant bounded from the driver’s seat and ran toward them. Carl grabbed hold of her face with his free hand and tried to shove her away. She locked her jaws and held on tight. She refused to take her gaze off Carl and risk another attack, so she registered the new arrival in her peripheral vision. The familiar scent of a packmate allowed her to identify him—Robert.

  Big hands closed on Theresa’s body, spanning her shoulders. She growled, but Robert smelled of pack—family—and she didn’t regard him as a threat. When he separated her from Carl, she allowed it, opening her jaws to release his arm. As soon as he was free, Carl rolled over onto his back in a display of submission.

  “Shh, take it easy. You’re okay.” Robert’s hands soothed her fur and his cool power helped calm her wolf. Although her face had healed, her right side ached, a constant throbbing pain that made her suspect that some of her ribs were broken.

  “He tried to kill me.” Her current shape made speaking difficult, but she managed to verbalize the words. Uneasy, she glanced around but didn’t spot anyone. She even considered ducking behind Robert, but at the moment she stood taller than him.

  “I understand,” Robert said. “We need to get you inside before you’re seen. Where’s Isabel?”

  “She’s with my mom. She’s safe.” Theresa thanked her lucky stars that her daughter hadn’t been with her when Carl attacked. It made her ill to think of how Isabel could have been hurt or even killed.

  “Good, I’m glad to hear that.” His expression reflected relief, but then he glanced at Carl and anger filled his brown eyes.

  “Go inside. You don’t want to see this.” Robert looked her straight in the eyes and made it a command.

  With deadly intent, Robert approached the cowering Carl, menace in his movement, and stooped to pick up the dropped silver knife. He raised his arm, positioning the blade for a killing stroke to the other man’s heart.

  “Robert.” She crossed her arms, her voice trembled, but still she stayed, unable to walk away and leave the Beta wolf to make the hard choices on her behalf.

  “Theresa, I don’t want you to have to watch this,” Robert said. “Please go inside.”

  Theresa faltered before his steely gaze, but she had been through too much recently to obey without question. She squared her shoulders and stiffened her spine. “Wait, please. What are you going to do?”

  Robert’s brow rose and he looked at her with curiosity. “He attacked a lower-ranked female without provocation. The penalty is death.”

  “Shouldn’t that be for Adam to decide?” she asked.

  He stared at her, and then a smile began in his eyes and spread to his lips. “Damn, woman, you’re taking this Alpha female business to heart, aren’t you?”

  Heat spread across her throat and face, making her grateful for the fur covering most of her skin. “Please don’t kill him, Robert.”

  “The bastard doesn’t deserve to live.”

  “Maybe not, but I don’t want his death on my conscience.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “Though, a merciful death now will be preferable to what Zach is going to do to him.”

  On the ground, Carl cringed and cowered, but he remained silent. Theresa pursed her lips and considered Robert’s statement. She knew he had the right of it. Zach would eviscerate Carl when he learned of the attack. His fury would be epic. She shuddered to contemplate it. With any luck, he could be reasoned with once it became clear that she’d suffered no permanent harm.

  She could only manage one problem at a time. “Thank you,” she said to Robert.

  Just then, a neighbor’s front porch light came on and their door started to open. Without being told a second time, Theresa bolted for the side of the house. She crouched low and followed the hedge and then jumped the six-foot fence surrounding her backyard with a deft standing leap.

  The sound of Mrs. Homer’s voice made her pause. The old woman sounded suspicious and fearful. “What’s going on over there?”

  “There’s been a dog attack, ma’am,” Robert said, sounding confident and reassuring at the same time. “This man’s been bit pretty bad. You might want to go inside. The animal is still running loose.”

  “My goodness, I’ll do that right away. Thank you, young man. Have you called the police yet?”

  “Not yet, but I’m about to. If you’d alert animal control too, I’d appreciate it.”

  Moving with all of her stealth, Theresa made her way to the back door and recovered the spare key she kept hidden beneath the garden bench. After a frustrating minute of pain and tears, she managed to return her claws to hands well enough to manipulate the lock. She let herself in and headed upstairs to her room. She entered the bathroom and reached into the shower to turn on the water, and then leaned against the sink to wait while it warmed up.

  She felt like a burn victim, seared from head to toe, covered in open wounds across her entire body. The emotional agony was far worse than her physical injuries. Never in a million years had she imagined that a significant increase in her status within the pack would result in challenges, violence, and unprovoked attacks.

  She looked into the mirror and a terrifying creature of myth and legend stared back. Her eyes were big, her teeth were bold, and rich red-black fur covered her wolfish face. To her own perception, she appeared quite lovely, strong and beautiful, but she knew how she would appear to a normal person. Monstrous.

  She met her own gaze, and a wrenching pain traveled the length of her body as the transformation reversed and she reverted to human. Her body convulsed as her form altered, bones broke and knit, her limbs shorted and her height decreased. Her pointed ears rounded, her muzzled retracted, her teeth grew blunt and smooth skin took the place of fur. She cried out and doubled over holding her abdomen, wondering how it was that the pain of changing shape never seemed
to bother the pack’s dominant wolves. Zach never expressed more than mild discomfort when he shifted.

  When the process completed, she lay on her side on the cool tile of the bathroom, panting and clutching her sides. The nasty cut on her forearm remained. The transformation aided her healing, but silver injuries took longer than normal wounds.

  With a determined grunt, she gathered her strength and crawled to her knees, shedding the tattered remnants of her clothing in the process. Making a concentrated effort, she recovered her feet and staggered into the shower. The scalding water hit her skin, washing away dried blood and relieving the awful ache in her muscles. She stayed there until the hot water ran out, less than ten minutes thanks to the house’s faulty water heater.

  Cursing her landlord for the umpteenth time that week, Theresa wrapped a fluffy white towel about her torso. She wrapped her forearm in clean cloth bandages and made her way to the bedroom. She dressed and then descended the stairs to peer out into the front yard. Her stomach dropped when she spotted the distinct flashing light of a police cruiser. She peered out the front window and saw Robert speaking with Sheriff Mahoney. As she watched, an ambulance pulled away, taking Carl with it.

  Well, damn. The sheriff was going to be angry with her. He’d warned her not to put any more men in the hospital.

  ****

  “Thanks, Sly,” Robert said, watching as the sheriff walked toward his vehicle.

  The officer nodded, driver side door half open, and bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “Sure thing, Robert. Have a nice night—whatever’s left of it anyway.”

  A glance at his watch showed it to be just after three in the morning. All of the neighbors had already gone inside, and Sly represented the final official presence on the scene. Fortunately, they managed to put the “dog bite” incident under wraps without circumstances spiraling out of control. The neighbor witnesses reported hearing an animal growling and a man shouting, but no one had seen the actual incident.

  After Sly drove away, Robert looked toward Theresa’s house and saw her in the front window, watching and waiting. At the Beta wolf’s request, Sly refrained from involving the already traumatized she-wolf in the investigation, sparing her the stress of being questioned.