Raising Wolves

by Preston Walker

  "You care about Darla," Jordan said, sounding sort of floaty and distant.

  "I do," Jeffery said, earnestly. "In addition to whatever else she is, she's a really great kid. I'm glad she didn't lose her daddy today."

  "Me too."

  The air crackled between them for a moment, and Jeffery wasn't sure what to say, or if he should say anything at all. He felt like he should leave and let Jordan put himself back together, but that fire burning in Jordan's eyes kept him rooted in place. Jordan took one step, then another, and was mere inches away. Jeffery could feel the electric heat buzzing off of Jordan's skin. He felt suddenly constrained by his pants, and he couldn't seem to get enough air. Jordan's eyes were locked, burning into his.

  "Who cares for you, Jeffery?" Jordan asked, his voice taking on a husky edge.

  Jeffery had no answer to that. His family was long dead, his work relationships were iffy at best and Alex was gone. He shook his head lamely and tried to look away. Jordan grabbed his jaw in his powerful, electrified hand and forced him to meet his eyes again.

  "You deserve to be loved," Jordan said, softly.

  He might as well have shouted it. Any air that remained in Jeffery's lungs whooshed out in a breath. His face flushed hot, and his eyes stung with tears. He didn't deserve shit, and he knew it. Until he could do better, he didn't deserve a damn thing. Jordan frowned, his eyes still boring into Jeffery's. He lowered his head, touching his super-heated lips to Jeffery's trembling mouth. Jeffery melted, forgetting everything. Jordan gripped him tight at waist and hip, crushing their bodies together as he forcefully explored Jeffery's mouth. Jeffery couldn't catch his breath. He sucked air in every time Jordan pulled away, holding it as he plunged back into the molten pool of their superheated kiss. Jordan was hard and hot against his belly. Jeffery ached to feel him inside, thrusting, locking, taking him like a beast in heat.

  He broke away, gasping. Darla. Darla was alone, outside. They couldn't, they mustn't do this now. He pushed Jordan hard, giving himself an inch of breathing room. "Darla's outside," he said, his voice sounding husky and raw in his own ears.

  Jordan nodded, breathing hard. He looked as if he'd just awakened from a dream. He turned away and looked at the floor behind him.

  "Thanks for cleaning that up," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I'll be out in a minute. Check on her, please."

  Jeffery backed out of the camper without saying a word. He was on fire. Jordan's kiss raced like molten metal through his blood, settling hot and heavy between his hips. Once outside, he caught his breath and looked around. Darla wasn't touching the tail light anymore. Panic overwhelmed his burning desire, and he shot around the camper calling her name. He found her a moment later, hanging upside down from the monkey bars.

  "Hi!" she called, waving one hand.

  "Hi," he returned, breathing a relieved sigh.

  She dropped to the ground and ran over to him.

  "Daddy okay?" She asked.

  "Yeah, kiddo, your dad's fine. He's a trooper."

  "No," she corrected, very seriously. "He a hacker."

  "Oh, right," Jeffery chuckled. "A very good hacker. He's taking a shower now. Are you hungry?"

  She nodded adamantly, and he held her hand and walked her over to the truck. He slid the cooler out, and tried to decide what the healthiest snack would be for a growing werewolf. There wasn't a whole lot of red meat to choose from, but he admitted that it didn't travel well. He finally offered her a banana, which she took it with enthusiasm after he had popped the stem for her, and she stared at him.

  "What's the problem?" he asked.

  "Peel!"

  "Oh, sorry."

  He peeled the banana quickly, taking the whole skin off, and tried to hand it to her. Her eyes filled up with tears and her lower lip began to tremble. Before Jeffery could begin to wonder why, she had burst into tears.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  "L–like a monkey!" she wailed. "'Posed to peel like a monkey!"

  "Like a monkey, huh," he said, pulling another banana off the hand. He examined it, and thought back to every cartoon he'd ever seen that had a monkey in it. Slowly, carefully, he peeled the banana halfway down, leaving the peel to flap freely. "Like this?" he asked.

  "Monkey banana!" she said, delightedly.

  She took it from him and began to chew, content with the presentation of her fruit. Jeffery shrugged and began eating the other one. No point in letting it go to waste. His stomach told him that it was about damn time he ate something; what did he think he was, a camel? He devoured it quickly, and Darla grinned at him. Her eyes looked past his shoulder, and her grin widened even farther, making her eyes ignite like chocolate fireworks.

  "Daddy!"

  Jeffery's heart leapt in his chest.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  "Darla!" Jordan scooped her up in his arms and gave her a big hug.

  "Daddy okay?" Darla asked, running her fingers over the rapidly fading wound on his shoulder.

  "Yeah, baby, Daddy's okay. Daddy's better than okay. You know why?"

  "Why?"

  "Because now Daddy can be Darla's Daddy, happily ever after."

  Darla threw her arms around his neck and dropped a loud kiss squarely on his cheek. He laughed and twirled her, letting her legs fly out and up into the air. She laughed and flung her arms out wide.

  "I flying!" she shrieked, happily.

  Jordan kissed her and set her down.

  "Come, Daddy! Come see!"

  She yanked him by his finger and pulled him to the play structure, where there was a three-dimensional tic-tac-toe board. She spun the letters, telling him that she was spelling words. He played along, letting her weave a story in the chunky plastic letters.

  "Once upon a time, there was Wolfie," she said, spinning the blocks. "Wolfie did no-noes. Wolfie bited Daddy. Then, Daddy did a bad thing. You know what him did?"

  "What did he do?" Jordan asked, wincing internally. Sexually assaulted a werewolf? Neglected his daughter to sip from the forbidden well of lust? Allowed himself to be consumed by the beast within and forget all of his responsibilities? The answers rang in his brain, but of course she wouldn't know these things.

  "He screameded," she said, her voice very somber. "He screameded rude words. Then Wolfie cried."

  "Then what happened?" Jordan asked, expecting to feel guilt but it didn't come. He had far greater trespasses to feel guilty for right now, and even those were barely making his conscience squirm. He wondered absently if werewolves were all sociopaths, or if he'd just triggered something within himself.

  "Then Wolfie got a SpongeBob toy and ice cream and Daddy taked a nap. Then they say sorry and snuggle, then all live happy ever after!"

  "That was a wonderful story," Jordan said, slightly relieved at the ending. "I love happily ever after."

  "Me too," she said, spinning the blocks pensively. "Daddy, you need princess."

  "I have a princess," he grinned, hugging her.

  "No," she said adamantly, pushing his hands away. "True love."

  "True love, huh?"

  "Uh-huh. One true love."

  Jordan looked up to see Jeffery standing nearby, scanning the horizon for threats. The memory of their moment in the camper was still fresh on his lips, and he craved more. He didn't think his desire counted as love; not really. Certainly not the kind of fairy tale, happily ever after love that Darla was talking about. Not that he was going to take dating advice from a three-year-old, but kids had a way of cutting through the crap that he appreciated. She wasn't wrong. He wanted that. He didn't want a repeat of what he had with Alex, which had been immature at best. They had no foundation; no real trust. It was a fluffer-nutter relationship, all sticky gooey sweetness and no substance at all. He wanted more than that. Needed more than that. What he needed now was a partner. Someone he could trust, not just with his heart and his moments of vicious hedonism, but with Darla's life. He needed someone who was just as interested and invested in her as he was.


  "Jeffery princess?" Darla asked, and Jordan realized that he'd been staring at Jeffery the whole time he'd been thinking.

  "I don't know," he answered, honestly. "What do you think of Jeffery?"

  "Hm... Too ugly. He be prince."

  "Just any old prince?" Jordan asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

  "No, Daddy," Darla giggled. "Prince for you."

  "For me?"

  "Yes! Two princes. Daddy prince, Jeffery prince."

  "That sounds like a good story."

  She nodded, a very serious gesture. Jordan grinned and patted her back.

  "I'm gonna go check the time. What time do you think it is?"

  "Um... dinner time!"

  "Maybe so! I'll go check."

  "Okay, Daddy."

  Jordan strode across the playground, running his eyes over Jeffery's body. Lust coiled deep in his gut, ready to spring free the instant he told it to. He kept it in check, and deliberately kept his tone light and casual.

  "Jeffery," Jordan said. "You got the time?"

  "Five twenty-two," Jeffery said, glancing at his watch. "How are you feeling?"

  "Stable," Jordan said.

  Jeffery nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. That inter-dimensional quantum rebirth wasn't something a person could forget.

  "When was the last time she ate?" Jordan asked.

  "Before the banana? Let's see. Gave her one of those cracker sandwich meal things at noonish. Then ice cream. Before that it was ice cream and a banana. I'm sorry, she hasn't eaten very well today. I was trying to put space between us and them."

  "Completely understandable and totally acceptable," Jordan said, standing closer to Jeffery than he needed to. "Sometimes safety supersedes empty calories. I wanted to apologize for what happened in the trailer. If... if it bothered you, anyway. I'm usually better about checking first. We good?"

  Jeffery nodded and flashed him a little half-smile.

  "Turning's a trip, isn't it," he commented.

  "Worst. Trip. Ever."

  "Yeah. I remember. But hey, at least you got bit by your own daughter instead of your crazy ex, right?"

  Jordan chuckled.

  "Speaking from experience?" he asked.

  "Oh god, don't get me started," Jeffery laughed. "I mean, it's funny now, but it sure as hell wasn't funny then. See, I took personal offense to the whole Nazi thing. I mean, obviously. Werewolf or not, I was a target back then. My boyfriend at the time... I can say that now, but back then he was just my 'buddy'... anyway, he was a pacifist to the nth degree. He thought we could cure the world of Hitler's poison with pow wows and flower wreathes. Ahead of his time really. He would have had a blast in the '60s. Anyway, I was young and pissed off and all fired up to kick some Nazi ass, and he was young and pissed off that I was willing to participate in violence. We get in a fight, he runs off into the woods.

  "Comes back a few days later with his clothes torn to shreds and asks me if I've changed my mind. I said no, of course not, we can't just let this go, innocent people are dying. Then he comes back with how all lives are inherently innocent, and if I take one innocent life it's like killing every child or something, I don't know. He was a big reader, liked philosophy and religion especially. Anyway, he loses his temper. Turns out, when he ran off, he ran into a feral pack and got himself turned. We fight, he shifts, he bites me. I shoot him. Honest to god, I thought he was going to kill me. Well, he runs off... limps off... and I never saw him again. I assume he died, because we started the registry shortly after the war and he was nowhere to be found."

  "Hold on... werewolves started a registry right after World War II? Doesn't that seem a little...?"

  "Dark? Ironic? Yeah, we batted that around for a while, but in the end we decided to do it. Not for the humans, but for ourselves. To protect ourselves and keep tabs on our people in the face of these wars. Back in the day, a werewolf would win against a human one hundred percent of the time. The great wars changed all that. The weapons kept getting bigger and better. The Nazis were fully aware of our species, and had spent a great deal of time and energy creating weapons specifically to hunt us. There's a reason there aren't a whole lot of werewolves in Europe these days."

  "Are human governments aware of werewolves now?"

  "Not really. The Nazis kind of stumbled upon us by accident in their rabid mission to eliminate all things different. Some poor bastard got caught in half-form, and you know they couldn't let that go. Fortunately, they weren't real big on sharing back then. Some of us over here in the States managed to get ourselves to the right place at the right time to destroy the evidence and weapons."

  "Were you one of those?" Jordan asked, quietly.

  Jeffery shook his head.

  "I never actually made it in. When I turned, I was by myself. I split my head open, broke a shoulder, broke a hip. Nearly put my eye out. I was supposed to report for duty the next morning, and I did... but I was so messed up that they sent me home. Told me I'd never walk right again and I'd just slow everybody down. I waited a few months, then I joined up with a mercenary crew. Like I said, I took the Nazi thing personally. Most of what I did were extractions. We'd drop in, clear a POW camp of enemies... I worked in Japan, my particular skills have a bigger impact there. Sometimes I wouldn't even have to kill anybody, I'd just shift and they'd start gesticulating. I didn't save a whole lot of people. I mostly brought the bodies home."

  Jeffery's eyes had taken on a haunted, glazed-over look, and Jordan felt like he'd pushed too far. That didn't stop him from pushing a little further; he was still feeling manic.

  "After all this time... does it still get to you?"

  Jeffery met Jordan's eyes, and Jordan could see the weight of the century swimming in the grey-ringed black pools.

  "Used to be every day," Jeffery said. "I would hear the screams when I slept. See the faces of the dead when I closed my eyes. I've learned to live with it. It's less of a burden now, but... shit, Jordan. War is hell."

  Jordan draped an arm around Jeffery's shoulders and squeezed. Jeffery turned into him, dropping his head on Jordan's shoulder. It was too much weight for one person to bear alone. Especially someone like Jeffery, Jordan thought.

  "Daddy!" Darla called. "Hungry!"

  "I know baby, I'm going to go make dinner right now," he told her.

  Jeffery pulled away and smiled softly. Jordan winked at him and squeezed his shoulder once more before turning away. He couldn't remember what they'd picked up (or ripped off, technically, he realized) from the store, but he was sure he could cobble something together. If not, there was a spinning yellow M close enough for him to see. He was sure she wouldn't complain about that particular plan B, so he looked through the cooler. Cracker sandwiches, bananas, apples, pop tarts and ice cream. The crappy daddy gnomes would have a field day with him the next time he tried to sleep.

  "Load up," he called. "We're getting happy meals."

  "Yay!" Darla whooped, running to the truck. She let Jordan strap her in with no fuss whatsoever.

  "Happy meals, huh?" Jeffery asked, with a grin.

  "Yeah, the shopping trip was kind of a bust. We'll try that again sometime like, oh, never. Get used to the idea of being fat, we're gonna be hitting every fast food joint between here and Moorside."

  "I have a better idea," Jeffery said. "But first, dinner. I don't think I've actually eaten anything for a couple days now."

  "Uh, banana?" Darla corrected.

  "Right, I had a banana. That should keep me going for a week at least." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Jordan grinned.

  They climbed in the truck, and Jordan took the driver's seat. He was feeling more like himself every minute. In spite of everything, he felt like they'd had a good day. Playtime, conversation, foreplay, growth... all good things. He rolled down the window to breathe in the warm, damp breeze and sighed happily. As he pulled out of the abandoned development though, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

  He could
have sworn he heard a wolf howl.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  They ate in the car on their way out of town. Jordan was behind the wheel, and really didn't know where he was going. They had managed to make their way just north of Sacramento, but the weaving path of the side roads and thoroughfares was making it difficult to stick to a single direction. After a few hours of winding through unfamiliar towns, Jordan glanced at Jeffery.

  "Think we'll be safe at a rest stop for the night? We're going to need to handle the reservoirs."

  Jeffery drummed his fingers on the armrest and ran his other hand over his mouth.

  "It's worth a shot," he said, finally. "But find one heading east. They'll be expecting us to keep heading north."

  "Freeway?"

  Jeffery shook his head.

  "I know it's a pain in the butt," he said. "But it's really the best way to keep from getting spotted."

  Jordan nodded and glanced in the mirror at Darla. She was singing to herself and gazing out the window as the sunlight faded away. He saw her yawn, and hoped that he could find a rest stop soon. It was important to him that they keep her routine as close to normal as possible. She always seemed to do better with a routine, and this road trip had been a real strain on her.

  "Darla," he said, gently.

  "Daddy?"

  "You've done a really good job for me the last couple of days. Thank you."

  "I bited you," she said, and her eyes welled up with tears. "Bited my Daddy."

  "It's okay, sweetie. You know why?"

  "Why?" she asked, her voice squeaking with tired tears.

  "Because now Daddy gets to be a werewolf, just like you!"

  That caught her attention, and she whipped her head around to stare.

  "Really?"

  "Really, really. As soon as I figure out how to do it, we'll do all kinds of werewolf things together."

  She smiled happily and clapped her hands, then turned her face to look out the window again. She started humming quietly, and was blinking slowly with heavy, purple lids. He argued with himself about whether or not to skip her bath. On the one hand, she really wasn't that dirty. On the other, it was her routine. He decided to wait until they stopped, then ask her what she wanted to do. She would probably answer with something impossible like fly to the moon, but he would rather open a dialogue and get caught up in a three-year-old imagination than dictate her life to her. She was old enough to make certain decisions about her own existence. Minor, meaningless decisions that wouldn't harm her one way or another, of course. The point wasn't the decisions themselves as much as it was about her being the one to make them.