It’s December. Almost Christmas. Pine Springs is at its best: white and lovely, snow blanketing the junk in the front yards and making dilapidated houses look like fairy tale cottages. The beginning of winter is my favorite time because the snow, crisp and clean, covers everything and—just for a little while—Pine Springs is truly beautiful.
I’ve been so angsty about my lot in life that I haven't been the most attentive girlfriend. I’m distracted, thinking about the different colleges I got into, calculating all of the scholarships I’ve received or have yet to receive. And there, in the background, is Carol, figuring out what she wants to major in in order to make the biggest impact in Pine Springs. She asks me up to her bedroom—not to study, not anymore, but for us to be alone together.
I’m not paying attention, though. I’m not noticing what I should. Life is swirling by too quickly, too quickly…
It’s December twentieth.
There's a bitterness inside of me, and it’s growing. And everything is about to change.
I wake up in the morning, and she’s there, asleep, nestled in the crook of my arm, her lovely face pillowed on my shoulder. She breathes softly, deeply, in the land of dreams. I hold her close, and I press my nose to her hair—softly, so as not to wake her.
I close my eyes, and the ache in my heart expands as I feel the weight of her in my arms, the solidity of her, the warmth of her, anchoring me here.
Carol's bedroom hasn’t changed much over the years. There are more books on her shelves now. She’s started collecting comics, and there is a stack of them on her nightstand, beside her thread-worn, stuffed pink pony.
Everything here is familiar. Is safe, and just as thread-worn as that pony. I know every inch of this room, just like I know every inch of her. And when I look at her now, I feel as if I'm exactly where I need to be.
Still...there’s a part of my heart that wonders.
I’m eighteen; I’m a selfish idiot. But I don’t know that at the time, don’t know how to name many of my feelings. Don't know that selfishness can cost you dearly.
Carol wakes up. I can tell because her body, so relaxed against mine, gains a little bit of tension: in the rounded curve of her shoulder, the slope of her back and ribs. She breathes out, her eyelashes fluttering against the pink softness of her cheeks, and then she licks her lips, the sight of her tongue making me weak, making me long to kiss her.
“Hey,” she murmurs, and she gives me that wicked little smile as she stretches against me. “What time is it?”
I glance at the clock on the wall, the pink one with the sun-faded pastel rabbits racing around the numbers. “Seven,” I tell her, stifling a yawn.
Her blue eyes widen. “Oh, shit, Georgia, we’re going to be late,” she moans, pushing off of me and all but falling out of bed. She rises to her feet. She’s not wearing any clothing, and the leanness of her, the longness of her body…it sets my blood racing.
But I’m confused.
“Late for what?” I sit up, stretching, albeit less gracefully than her. I pull the blanket over me. Werewolves rarely feel cold, but there’s a deep chill to the room. Carol's family only keeps the heat high enough to prevent the pipes from freezing.
She stares at me, her dark blonde brows raised. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember.” She sounds disappointed. Then she’s kneeling by my side of the bed, her mouth turning up at the corners, though the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. “Did you forget? Please tell me you didn’t forget.”
My brain races, but all I can think about is colleges, tests, scholarships, wondering how the hell I’m going to eat and afford housing once I've left town…
I shake my head, bite my lip. “I’m sorry, babe. I don’t know. What’s going on today?” I'm trying to keep my voice light.
She stands, places her hands on her hips, and continues to stare at me. “Okay, I know you’ve been preoccupied lately, but come on, Georgia.” She sighs for a long moment, and then she appears to forgive me quickly. “The camping trip?”
Now it’s my turn to stare at her as if she's speaking a different language.
“The pups are all heading up to Sugarloaf Mountain. We’re camping there for the next few days...you know, to have one last big winter trip together before we graduate and go our separate ways.” She’s picking up her clothes from the floor. She shrugs the sweater on, over her head first, tugging it down and adjusting the turtleneck collar as she searches in her dresser for a fresh pair of drawers.
The pups. All of the werewolves in our class.
I want to roll my eyes but only shrug uncomfortably. She’s not paying attention to me, anyway. She’s pulling on her wrinkled pants now, hopping around the room as she shimmies the tight jeans up and over her butt.
“Don’t you…” I begin cautiously, still sitting on the bed.
She glances over her shoulder at me. “What?”
“I don’t know. Don’t you want to just, like, stick around here?” I lean on my elbow and watch her button her jeans, slide up the zipper. She stares at my reflection in the dresser mirror as she picks up the brush and starts to drag it through her tangled blonde waves.
Carol frowns, working through a particularly bad knot. “What are you talking about? This is going to be the great farewell. To school. To each other, at least for a little while. By the time we all come back from college, we’re going to be so different. School changes you, Georgia,” she tells my reflection simply, and then returns her attention to the tangle.
By the time we all come back from college.
Maybe it’s wrong that I dream of escaping Pine Springs. I certainly feel guilty enough about it. But it’s what I want, what I’ve wanted my whole life. I don’t want to be a werewolf, have never wanted to be a werewolf, and I certainly don’t want to spend the rest of my days in Middle of Nowhere, Maine.
Carol is humming softly to herself, a Christmas song, as she brushes her hair. I listen, realize she’s humming “O Holy Night.” Her voice is a little haunting in the quiet morning stillness. She pulls the brush again and again through her long shining strands as she leans over the dresser, the slant of sunshine coming in through the window illuminating her profile, making her look as if she’s made of light.
I love her. I know I love her.
But I also know that I can’t stay here.
There’s a bloom of pain deep in my belly as I stand up, as I move behind her, wrapping my arms around her slight frame. She straightens, leans back against me, her warm length melding against mine, and for a single moment, the pain is so concentrated, I can hardly breathe.
Right now, my future is uncertain. I love her so much. I know I don't want to stay here, but I don't want to leave her. I can't imagine leaving her.
I have to focus, stay in the moment. Try to figure out what the hell I'm going to do.
“Hey,” Carol murmurs, shifting in my embrace with a brow raised. She wraps her arms around my neck and tugs me even closer, presses her mouth to my collarbone; I shiver against her. “Stay with me. You were a million miles away a second ago. Am I that boring?” she jokes, but when she meets my gaze, her brows are furrowed. She's genuinely worried.
“Never,” I growl to her, my voice catching just a little. I hold her tighter, tighter, and she makes a surprised squeak as I pull her back onto the bed. The mattress catches us as I turn her in the air, pulling her down and then crawling over her.
My heart aches as I stare down at her surprised face, so beautiful in the early morning light. Her gaze softens. She wraps her arms around my neck as I descend toward her, press my mouth to her collarbone.
“We're going to be late,” she laughs gruffly, her lips turned up, smiling.
“Then let's be late,” I whisper into her ear.
She gasps as I trace my tongue over her skin, tasting the sweetness of her. One by one, I remove the clothes she just carefully put on. What am I doing? I ask myself, as I wrap an arm around her shoulders, as she arches beneath me when my hand cups her breast. She turns
and twists, making soft sounds that release the wolf inside of me.
How can I leave her?
She doesn't know what I'm thinking, can't know, as she closes her eyes.
I watch her face in the yellow light. I know the tricks, know every thing she loves, the touches that can make her scream. The house is quiet. Carol knows she must be quiet, and when she presses her mouth into the pillow, I stare down at her, transfixed.
This feels sacred. Like a prayer, somehow.
This feels like the last time.
No.
No, no, don't think—only feel. And only feel this moment, because if you go outside of this moment...that's when things get scary and complicated. Right here and now, there's only us.
The tiny details send licks of fire through me: her golden hair resting on her pink pillowcase. The way her fingernails, painted blue today, look, gripping the sheet with such ferocity, she might tear it.
Now she's on her stomach, and I trace paths lightly over her skin, the delicate curve of her spine arching under my touch. I curl my fingers over the fullness of her hips, breathe the sweet scent of her skin as I kiss the dimples at the small of her back...
She's perfect. She's perfect. And as she moans low, pressing her rear against the curve of my stomach, I reach beneath her, cupping her breasts, drawing her up so that her back is pressed against my front. Her fingers twist the sheets beneath her, but her body obliges, her head tilting back, exposing her throat to my mouth as we both kneel on the bed.
I nip her throat—I can't help it. I can feel my teeth elongating as the animal in me rises, and I sink my teeth as delicately as I can into the softness, the pinkness, of her skin. She groans, whimpering, but she lets me. Usually, we wrestle for that pleasure. There's so much involved in it—alpha bullshit. Wolf stuff. But today she lets me bite her neck, and this raw want courses through me because of it, a crescendo that builds, pushing, pulsing inside of me like a living thing, seeking a way out.
But everything stops, because there are noises in the house. A knock at the door. Her mother wanting to know if we're going to have breakfast before we head up to the mountain.
Carol yelps a little, laughs, as she pulls the covers over her body quickly, disentangling from me. Normally, it would be funny, being interrupted by her mother (who never opens the door without an invitation, thank goodness). But as I look down at Carol, laughing, the sunlight reflected in her hair...I feel as if something was stolen from us. Ripped away.
“Come on, Georgia,” says Carol, wrapping her arms around my neck, drawing me down for a kiss, her mouth all smiles. “We're late,” she admonishes me gently.
Heart sinking in my chest, I rise, get out of bed.
I feel cold and confused as Carol sings about letting it snow while she begins to dress yet again.
This moment...this is the one that lodges itself in my heart like a splinter. The gleam of her hair, the curve of her back as she bends, glowing, to pull on her jeans, her fingers adjusting the collar of her sweater...
This is the moment I will go back to, in the dark, for the next fifteen years, wondering—again and again—if I made an awful mistake.
Yes, my heart whispers to me—then and now, as bone-deep chills wrack my body.
Carol, so young, so lovely, looks at me, her blue eyes soft and smiling and full of love.
Look at what you lost.
Look at what you threw away.
---
“You're late,” Susan mutters, arms crossed over her red parka.
Susan is my cousin, and she's currently surrounded by my werewolf classmates and the rest of my cousins—a bunch of rowdy teenagers in snow gear and boots.
My cousin Ben gets off of the picnic table, dusting snow from his bottom, a wolfish grin on his face as he glances from Carol to me. Yeah, he knows why we're late, as, I'm sure, does everyone else. Yet another reason to move away from this small town...
“Sorry,” I tell Susan, and she sighs, rolls her eyes, and starts to unzip her parka. I narrow my brows at her. “What are you doing?” I ask, maybe a little too sharply, because all of the pups are suddenly staring at me with shocked, wide eyes.
“Dude, what's wrong with you?” Ben tilts his head to the side as he slips out of his own jacket.
“You're acting like you forgot this was even happening,” says Susan gruffly, tossing her parka into the cab of her dad's truck. The truck is a barely functioning bucket of rust, but it got most of my cousins here. Susan's been driving her dad's truck since she turned sixteen, which has made her the unofficial leader of our little pack.
It doesn't take much to impress in Pine Springs.
I swallow, considering, and then I shrug. “So...um...we're going up as wolves?”
Susan's brows arch. “Have we been talking to a pod person all last week instead of you?” Irritated, she glances at Carol. “What the hell's wrong with her, Care? Is she sick or something?”
Carol shakes her head, forehead creased. She's worried: I can scent it on her, the saltiness of the sweat on her skin.
“Whatever.” Susan scowls, clearly disappointed in me. We're the same age, but Susan has always been bossy; she kind of acted like my big sister when we were growing up. “All of the camping stuff is already up top,” she says, jerking her thumb toward the mountain and talking to me a little slowly...aggravating. I glance up—and up and up—and then Susan's taking off her shirt, peeling it over her head.
Werewolves don't give a shit about nudity; we're raised not to be shy about our bodies. Kind of a necessity when transforming into our wolf forms tears apart our clothes if we don't remove them first.
But there's something weird about today. I feel like an outsider as everyone around me strips—Carol included. She removes her coat, but she isn't thinking about camping or the trip up; she's staring at me.
“What's wrong?” she whispers as she pulls her sweater off, draping an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in an angle away from my cousins. “You seem so out of it, Georgia. Are you sick?” Her blue eyes pierce me through, her worried expression gutting me. “You're really... I mean, you're really worrying me.”
“I'm fine,” I lie, and then I'm unzipping my parka angrily.
I don't want to be here, don't want to be in this position. I don't want to shapeshift to my wolf form today. It makes me uncomfortable. All of this makes me uncomfortable, but I can't quite put my finger on why. Maybe because everyone in Pine Springs is so damn proud of their wolfishness. So damn proud of who and what they are. And me? I've never really gotten a handle on the whole thing. I mean, I know how to transform and am far faster and stronger than the humans. I'm not saying these aren't advantages, but...
I don't know what I'm saying.
I'm really confused. And I certainly don't want to spend the next few days with my brash, obnoxious cousins as they try to out-wolf each other.
My “I'm fine” hasn't convinced Carol—I can tell by the set of her jaw—but she's pulling off her jeans and boots and socks now, and soon she's fully naked, standing in the snow in her bare feet.
“Hey, hurry up,” snarls Susan, and I glance sidelong at her. She's completely nude at this point, too, standing with her feet hip-width apart, her hands on her hips, her nose tilted into the air in a partial snub. She's staring at me with green, glittering eyes.
I ignore her; she's always trying to start something with me. For the past couple of years, Susan seems to consider everyone her rival. We grew up together, but she's changed; she's aggressive now. She makes me uncomfortable with her unabashed wolfishness. With her embrace of the animal inside of her.
Carol reaches across the space between us and twines my fingers with her own, giving my hand a small squeeze, as if to soothe me. And then she steps forward, her hand leaving mine...
And she transforms.
I'd be lying if I didn't admit that, as confused as I am about being a werewolf, Carol's wolf form is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. The most beautiful.<
br />
She's breathtaking. And purely wild.
In the frosty air at the foot of the mountain, the whiteness of Carol's coat stands out, even against the snow. Carol's wolf form mirrors her human one in that she's lithe and lean, with a pretty nose and dainty, pointed ears that have always reminded me of a porcelain statue of a wolf rather than a wolf itself. Her ears swivel as she gets her bearings, flicking from side to side while her mind adjusts to the animal she's become. Her coat is a glorious white that has subtle hints of blonde shot through it. If you look at her in the right light, the blonde looks like strands of gold.
She shakes herself for a moment, getting used to the change, and then she glances up at me, blinking those ice-blue eyes. Her front left paw is firmly planted in the snow, but the other is raised, as if asking me a question.
I'm still wearing clothes, haven't removed my jeans or sneakers or socks or my bulky sweater. I hug myself, looking around and realizing that the rest of my classmates are already in wolf form. And they're staring at me, waiting for me, their breath huffing out into the air. A few of my cousins are running in tight circles, nipping at each others' heels, but Susan is staring at me, her eyes narrowed, her ears tilted back in annoyance, her gray wolf face sleek.
I sigh. Begrudgingly, I shrug out of my sweater and peel down my jeans. When I'm finally naked, my clothes stowed away—I hope someone remembered to take clothes up to the campsite, along with all of the gear—I lift my head, biting my lip.
The sky is turning slate gray, clouds billowing overhead.
A storm's coming.
I bend my neck, my spine curving forward into a swan dive.
Then my bones creak, lengthening here, shortening there; my muscles roar with heat, and I breathe out in one long, guttural whoosh...that ends in a soft groan as my hands hit the snow. Everything in my body is hot, feverish, as my pelt flickers over my skin, rising, pricking through. My nose grows longer, and I watch my hands, watch my fingers change, my nails lengthen.
Everything that is human inside of me grows lesser, and the animal grows larger.
I let out a deep sigh as I lift my head, blinking my new eyes in my new skull, seeing the world with a completely new gaze.
Holiday Wolf Pack Page 15
