The Sound and the Furry

by Karen Ranney

  Normally.

  But this wasn’t a normal situation and we weren’t normal people.

  In a very real way clans were like separate foreign countries. Each clan came from a different area of the world although several clans had settled here in the United States. We’d divvied up the country among us, the largest area belonging to the Celtic Clan. But what Mark’s clan lacked in size, it made up for in wealth.

  The Celtic Clan had representatives from other clans call on us. We brokered trade deals. We had an annual meeting in which all the clans met, discussed issues of interest to all of us, and adjudicated any problems that may have arisen in the past year.

  This Pranic business, however, was something totally different. Mark and I had done something unplanned and unique. Neither clan had rules about it.

  "How easy would it be for your father to resign his position? Could he?“

  I thought about it for a minute. I’d heard of the head of a family being challenged, like Craig Palmer’s father. It was considered shocking for the son to take a father’s place but it was done. The head of a clan? I’d never heard of anyone ever walking away from the position of alpha. I didn’t even know if there were procedures in place to allow it.

  The head of a Were clan was a lot like a Scottish laird. A man was elevated to alpha of the clan because of his leadership abilities, something that had proved him to the majority of the clan members. In my father's case, he’d been elected after the old alpha had died. Hamish’s election had been a unanimous vote. Among the men only, of course. Female Weres could vote in the civilian world, but not in clan business.

  That’s one of the things I’d change immediately. My list was getting long.

  “Because I’d agreed to the transfusion there are those in the clan who want me to abdicate.”

  When he didn’t say anything further, just sat there sipping his beer, I lost any semblance of patience.

  “Okay, what happened? I take it you’re still the alpha of your clan or you wouldn’t have announced it in the Council meeting.”

  He nodded.

  “Which means that the people who wanted you out evidently didn’t outnumber the people who wanted you to stay.”

  “The matter hasn’t been finalized,” he said. “Let’s just say it’s in a state of flux.”

  “And you think being away for a few years will make things better?” I asked.

  Nothing ever got better by ignoring it. I could demonstrate that idea by showing you a few infections that had been left untreated.

  I thought it was just a boil.

  He didn’t seem to mind it.

  I didn’t think the smell meant anything.

  In other words, I got a bunch of excuses from owners who really should have known better.

  Just like Mark.

  “Tell me about your daughter,” I said.

  I was not going to focus on him sitting so close to me. Or the fact that he was wearing a cotton shirt open at the neck. I wanted to put my lips against that spot on his throat and just smell him.

  Torrance, stop.

  Mark wasn’t talking to me. That was me talking to me.

  “Why was she in danger?”

  Again, I was filling in the blanks with my own imagination, but I wasn’t sure that what I was thinking was correct. I was assuming that the faction that didn’t want Mark to remain alpha had somehow threatened her. Who the hell would threaten a child?

  “My four younger brothers,” he said. Evidently, our telepathy was alive and well. “They don’t approve of my being Pranic.”

  “Is she here with you now?”

  He didn’t have to acknowledge her presence to the Council. Would he tell me, though?

  “She’s with her aunt. I moved them out of Perseus Clan territory.”

  I wanted to ask him pointedly where they were, but decided it wouldn’t be wise. If they were nearby, it might be enough to spark some sort of clan rivalry between Mark’s clan and mine. My father should be told about that possibility immediately. I had no intention of informing Hamish of anything concerning Mark. Ergo, I didn’t want to know.

  He gave me a quick glance, then went back to contemplating the label on the beer bottle.

  Had his brothers reacted to news of the transfusion like Austin? Were they Wolfies, too?

  “I’ve been accused of polluting my heritage,” he said.

  I reached over and clinked my beer bottle against his.

  “Welcome to my world,” I said. “My brother called me a horror. I can assure you, however, that I have no intention of corrupting the Were race. I certainly am not going to go around tainting their blood willy nilly.”

  His smile was quick, but held an edge to it.

  “Did they actually threaten your daughter or did you just do a preemptive strike?”

  “I don’t like leaving things to chance. I thought it would be better to move her before she was used as a pawn.”

  Good thinking.

  Families were sacred in the Were culture. Not just immediate family, but extended relations, like second cousins, great aunts and uncles. We protected our own. If Mark considered his brothers dangerous to his daughter, things must be grave in the Perseus Clan.

  And the clinical trials Mark was attending here must be of utmost importance.

  Tell me about the trials.

  He wasn’t the only one who could do the mind command thing.

  Tell me.

  He didn’t say a word. Instead, he put down his beer bottle on a lace coaster on the antique table in front of the sofa and grabbed me.

  I graciously allowed myself to be grabbed. It wasn’t a conscious thing, but it was necessary, like air and water.

  Suddenly I was heading for the stairs — and not entirely under my own steam. Before we got there he slammed me up against the wall or I slammed him. Frankly, it didn’t matter. We were both so strong we might have been equally matched alphas. He was taller, true, and had more upper body strength. But I was sneakier. I grabbed his crotch and smiled my most alluring Southern Belle smile.

  “Now I have you," I said. "Why don't you just make it easier on both of us and follow me to my bedroom?"

  The Brood started barking, but we both ignored them. Once we got upstairs, they were going to be shut out and they wouldn’t be happy. I’d have to find a way to take my mind off their outrage.

  My smile deepened.

  I wanted Mark, but this was where it got really strange. I didn't just want him for sex, even though that was a huge inducement. I wanted to be loved, to pretend, for a little while that there was someone in the world who thought I was special, who saw my uniqueness, who believed he was lucky to have me in his life. I wanted someone to hold me, pull me close, kiss me tenderly, and soothe those parts of my soul that felt raw and too thin.

  I kept my thoughts shielded as best I could. Something must have seeped through, though, because he placed both his hands on my upper arms and drew me slowly toward him. He didn't say a word. Nor did he bend his head to kiss me. Instead, he just stood there silently, his eyes searching.

  I didn't know what he was looking for. Some capitulation on my part? The fact that I’d invited him to my bedroom was evidence enough of that.

  He knew most of my secrets. Who I was down deep. The transfusion. Even my feelings of alienation. I was as exposed to him as anyone in my life. Even the questions I had to answer after winning the lottery and before receiving the transfusion hadn't been as revealing as this moment when Mark studied me.

  I didn’t say anything, only remained standing there feeling naked under his gaze.

  “Some would say we’re ordained,” he finally said, his voice soft and somber.

  “I don’t believe in love at first sight.”

  He only smiled.

  I did, however, believe in lust at first glance. I’d definitely felt that the first time I’d seen Mark.

  The past three months had been miserable. Absence makes the heart grow fonder — I’d n
ever understood that expression until now.

  "Would you stop looking at me like that?” I said. “I feel like I have a wart on the end of my nose."

  “I was just thinking how beautiful you are," he said, forever endearing himself to me.

  I probably should have said something self-deprecating, but I didn’t. I wanted to be beautiful for him.

  "I think you're gorgeous, too."

  His smile broadened, the expression warming something deep inside me.

  I put my arms up, linking my fingers behind his neck.

  "This is where you sweep me up the grand staircase."

  "Like in Gone with the Wind?"

  Give the boy a gold star.

  Damned if he didn’t do exactly that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I wouldn't have shaved his leg

  Speaking of Gone with the Wind…there’s a scene in the movie when Scarlett O'Hara wakes the next morning and stretches. You could tell that the night before must've been magnificent because she has a smile on her face reminiscent of a cat that had gorged on a few dozen canaries.

  I had the same smile on my face.

  I didn't open my eyes yet, intent as I was in recalling the events of the night before. Granted, I hadn't all that much sleep and it was going to show later. I had to work all morning, plus man the emergency clinic tonight. I was going to be dragging by tomorrow, but I couldn't get that smile off my face.

  Mark just might have won the sex Olympics. I could see him mounting that podium, standing tall, bending his head for a female judge to put the gold medal over his head. Hell, I might even award it to him myself.

  For artistry above and beyond – gold.

  For tenderness – most certainly gold.

  For bestowing incredible pleasure in an extended form – gold, gold, gold.

  I sighed deeply and finally opened my eyes, blinking at my ceiling. I didn't even bother to look to my left. I knew he’d gone. The room felt empty.

  Slowly I sat on the edge of the bed, which required more effort than I’d anticipated. Every muscle in my body felt weak. I was loose and relaxed. Very, very relaxed. I fell back on the bed and closed my eyes again. Maybe I should call in tired. I could just imagine what the response to that would be.

  Maybe the truth would set me free. "Excuse me, but I can't come in to work today. I had mind blowing sex for at least six hours last night and I can barely sit up. I haven't tried standing yet."

  Nope. That wouldn't go over very well. My reputation might improve at the clinic, however. Right now most of my associates thought I was a stick in the mud. Somebody who never went out after work, never had a drink or two, and didn't engage in pursuits of an amatory nature.

  I kept my eyes closed and smiled broadly.

  A few minutes later I persuaded myself that I needed to get to work. I sat up on the edge of the bed again and realized, belatedly, that the Brood wasn't whining at my feet.

  Had Mark let them out when he left?

  Panic immediately stripped me of any lassitude. I did my thing in the bathroom, then grabbed my terrycloth robe from the back of the door. For the first time since waking I was glad Mark had already left. I wouldn't want anybody to see me in that robe. It had been washed so many times that the terrycloth was thin, but it was soft and comfy against my naked body.

  I raced down the stairs. I didn't want the Brood to get out and go exploring the grounds. They hadn’t shown a propensity for wandering off, but although Graystone had a few acres surrounding it, there were busy streets with commuters in a hurry to get to work just outside my property line. They wouldn’t be watching out for the Brood.

  “Sit. If you don’t sit, you’re not going to get another liver treat.”

  I skidded to a stop at the door to the porch and turned to look toward the kitchen.

  Mark was standing there fully dressed, my Brood patiently sitting in front of him.

  I made my way to the kitchen, leaned against the door, and watched all of them.

  The three dogs were looking at him adoringly. I saw their affection as a vindication of my good taste in men. They liked him. They really liked him and I didn’t think it was solely because of the liver treats.

  If I was more girly, I would have hightailed it back up the stairs, changed into something alluring and returned. I didn’t. What the hell, Mark should see me with all my flaws and faults, my hair tousled, no makeup on except for the raccoon look I probably had since I hadn’t removed my mascara the night before. Not to mention the ratty bathrobe.

  “I thought you’d left,” I said, smiling.

  He doled out the liver treats one by one and then came to me, placing his hands on my waist and drawing me forward.

  "I didn’t want to leave you without saying goodbye,” he said. “Also, I wanted to see what you were like when you woke up. Are you always this pleasant?"

  "I like mornings. I like evenings. I like most times."

  I couldn't stop smiling, even when he bent his head and kissed me. I snuggled up to him, wrapped my arms around his waist, sighed into the kiss, and thought it was a great way to greet the morning.

  "I'm going to be late if I don't hurry," he said. "I have to go home and change. Otherwise, I’ll give the staff something to gossip about."

  "Heaven forbid," I said, pulling back and studying his face. He was one of the few men I’d ever seen who looked better with a morning beard than he did clean shaven.

  My heart did a little jump of pure joy when he kissed me again. I almost grabbed him and pulled him up the stairs.

  Decorum, Torrance. Decorum.

  “I’ll bet they gossip about you anyway,” I said, restraining myself from dragging him back to bed only with the greatest of willpower. “You’re too cute not to feature in a great many female dreams.”

  “Do I feature in yours?”

  I wasn’t going to tell him how many times I’d dreamed about him in the past three months. Of course, some of the dreams had ended in nightmares. Evidently, my subconscious was all for doing awful things to him to punish him for leaving me. In my own defense I’d been hurt, sad, and depressed about him.

  Let’s face it, I haven’t had the best luck with men.

  My teenage relationship with Craig had been doomed to fail. He wanted me to change my mind about going off to school, but young as I was I knew that if I didn’t follow my dream to be a vet I’d always regret it. So the moment I left Craig turned his back on me. As far as he was concerned if I hadn’t chosen him above everything else, I wasn’t worth his time.

  Before I came back to San Antonio, I’d dated but not with much success. After Bob I decided it would be better not to enter the dating pool again.

  Bob was an accountant who’d started his IRA when he was twenty. He owned a few rental houses and a condo overlooking the Guadalupe River. He had great teeth and was into the my-body-is-a-temple philosophy. He never even ate pizza.

  Bob was eternally understanding. If I had an emergency and had to go into the clinic, he offered to drive and wait for me. When I had to work late and miss one of his social/work events, he told me not to worry about it. “To save an animal’s life is a great ability, Torrance.”

  There was absolutely nothing wrong with Bob except for one thing. He was the most excruciatingly boring individual I’d ever met. I wanted to do things just to get some kind of reaction from him. One night, in the throes of this terrible compulsion, I shaved his left leg.

  I took his electric razor, started at his thigh and went all the way to his ankle. By the time he woke up I’d plowed a bald strip about two and a half inches wide down his leg. Male Weres were naturally very hairy even in their human state. Not this Were, however, at least not until the next full moon.

  “Why did you do that, Torrance?" he asked me. Even the question was framed in a reasonable, tolerant voice. He wasn’t pissed. He wasn’t uncontrollably angry.

  I stood there beside the bed still holding his razor in my hand and thought: I've got to
get out of here now. I cannot have a relationship with Bob. I would go stark raving mad in a matter of months. Or do something even more terrible to him.

  "I have absolutely no idea, Bob," I said to him.

  Perhaps he forgave me, but I couldn't. Whenever I remembered that night I cringed.

  Bottom line: I wanted someone who excited me, who made my heart sing, who brought a smile to my face. Mark did all that.

  I wouldn’t ever shave his leg.

  A few minutes later I walked Mark to the front door, the Brood following.

  The three months without him replayed in my mind. I hadn’t been in any great rush to have another relationship after being with Mark. I’d kinda sorta thought he was the one. You know, the one person on earth who was destined for you.

  Whoever had come up with that idea? What kind of marketing genius decided on that? As if there was only one mate on earth for you. Only one? Only one who made your mouth go dry and your brain go numb? All you could see was him. All you could hear was his voice, stirring something you didn't even know you possessed until that moment, some primitive sound receiver attached to your spine.

  I stood and watched at the door as Mark got into his car. He waved to me. I waved back.

  It seemed to me that I’d gone from Craig on one end of the spectrum — an alpha male with a superiority complex — to Bob — a submissive who was about as exciting as vanilla pudding. And in the middle was Mark, a doctor, a man who tripped my trigger and made me smile, not only in remembered bliss but in anticipation.

  I wanted to talk to him about what happened during the day, discuss things, even argue with him.

  I wanted to share my life with him.

  Mark was the one.

  Oh hell.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hope springs eternal and all that jazz

  The Emergency Clinic was one of those brilliant ideas that the whole practice had voted on, with mine being the only dissenting voice. Instead of funneling our patients to the San Antonio Emergency Veterinarian Clinic after hours, why shouldn’t we staff the clinic with one “volunteer" and a vet tech?