by V. Vaughn
“Andi. That’s not it.” He takes my hand, but I pull it away as I fight a wave of nausea.
“We do need to talk.” Stars float before my eyes, and my voice fades as I say, “You’re still in dan—” A veil of blackness drops.
* * *
I wake with my head in Esher’s lap, and I lean into his warm hand as he strokes my cheek. “You fainted.”
I try to sit up, but he presses on my shoulder as he says, “Don’t. Not so fast. Let’s lift you up slowly.”
“Okay.” He helps me to an upright position and flips on the overhead light. I squint in the brightness.
The cotton of my sleeve scrapes on my skin as Esher pushes it up and reveals the purple splotches on my forearm. He inhales sharply before he lifts my chin to gaze into my eyes. “Why the hell didn’t you find me sooner?”
I drop my gaze to my lap as I whisper, “Because I don’t deserve your help.”
“Yes. You do.” Esher lifts my chin again with his finger. “Whatever happened between us is not a good reason to die, Andi.”
“I’ve failed you—the werewolves—in so many ways. Because of me, you’re in constant danger.”
“That’s not true. We’ve been in danger for over a century.”
I close my eyes as tears of guilt burn in them. “But not like this. Dr. Sand came last week, and she’s here to uncover the truth. That’s what I came to tell you.”
He says, “We know she’s here. But that’s not what I’m worried about right now. You need to get my blood in you as soon as possible.”
I pull back. “No. It’s too risky. We don’t know what can happen. What if this time it does more than heal me?”
“You should get out of that lab, Andi.”
If I leave, who will protect the wolves? I shake my head. “You need me there.”
“We need you alive. I need you alive.” Esher takes my hand again and threads his fingers through mine as if he’s trying to keep me from slipping away.
The overhead lamp clicks as he pushes the button to turn it off, and my eyes adjust to the darkened atmosphere of the car. I can still see his face though, and I take in his strong features that make me wish I knew how to draw. He cares? He sure doesn’t act like it. I sigh. “I’ll think about it. I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday, so let me see what they say.”
Esher scowls and says, “I know what they’re going to say.”
I change the subject. “So you’re a pediatrician now, right?”
He nods, and I say, “I’m sure your pack is happy to have you.” The Silver Lake wolves have their own medical care, and while Esher studied with humans, he always knew he’d be working with werewolves. I have so many questions about werewolf children and how the shifting works, but I’m not in the position to ask.
“Yeah.” He tilts his head at me and stares for a moment before he says, “I know what you’re doing, and I’ll let it go. But I better get a call Monday, or I’ll hunt you down.” His tone is stern.
I ask, “What are you going to do if I don’t call? Bite me?”
Esher raises his eyebrows and lets out a growl. “Maybe.”
I wonder if becoming a werewolf would cure me completely. But I know how that works. We’d be mated for life, and I don’t think Esher is willing to go that far to save me. For all I know, he already has a mate. I ask, “What would your girlfriend think?”
“Subtle, you’re not. I don’t have a girlfriend.” Esher glances down at our entwined fingers and asks, “What about you? Are you involved with anyone?”
I shake my head and become aware of the sexy guy holding my hand. Desire that has been smoldering bursts into flames again as I recall our steamy connection, and I release my grip. While I’ve dated since I was with Esher, my relationships never last long. No man has ever measured up to the love I had for the one across from me.
“Good.” Esher gives me a wolfish grin, and his straight teeth gleam in the faint light of the parking lot. “I’m going to drive you home now, and tomorrow morning after you’ve had a good night’s sleep I’ll come get you for breakfast and bring you back to your car.”
“I—” He’s right. If I just passed out, I shouldn’t be driving. “I should go tell Julie so she doesn’t wonder what happened to me.”
He shakes his head. “She saw us leave. Do my reputation some good and let them think I took you back to my place, okay?”
I grin at him. “Okay,” I say and mumble to myself, “It will do mine some good too.”
The engine of Esher’s car purrs when he starts it, and he asks, “Where am I taking you?”
Back to the memories I’d carefully tucked away. “Twenty-six Walnut Street.”
4
My alarm wakes me from a dead sleep, and it takes me a moment to focus on reality. I reach over and stroke the silky fur of my cat, Snowflake. Her chest vibrates with a purr under my palm. A grin forms on my face when I remember why I’m not sleeping in on a Sunday morning. I roll over to say to Snowflake, “I have a date with Esher. Whatever am I going to wear?”
My excitement masks my low energy well, and I even sing in the shower. I decide on black leggings, a loose tee, and a long sweater since I get cold easily these days. I’m in the middle of applying mascara when my doorbell rings. I sigh as I finish quickly. I’d forgotten Esher is always early.
My bare feet thump lightly over the carpet as I make my way to the door, and when I open it I discover Esher in jeans, with a paper grocery bag in his arms. I step out of the way to let him in as he says, “We have things to talk about that shouldn’t be discussed in public, so I decided to cook for you.” The bag rustles as he sets it on my kitchen counter.
Snowflake lets out a hiss that startles us, and I glance over at my cat, arched up as if she’s about to attack. I say, “Don’t mind—” My cat launches herself onto Esher’s chest, and her claws dig in as she sticks to him like glue. “Snowflake!”
Esher growls, and Snowflake yowls before running to me and climbing up my body as if I’m a tree.
“Nice cat.”
“I’m so sorry.” I hold the squirming cat by its scruff and toss her into the bathroom. The door slams as I shut it quickly. “I swear she’s never done that before.”
He shrugs. “It’s probably the dog and cat thing.”
I chuckle at him as I watch Esher unload his bag. Orange juice thuds on the counter, followed by eggs, bacon, pancake mix, maple syrup, and butter. I say, “You brought me a feast.”
Esher turns to me, and I notice his defined pecs in a T-shirt that is tight. His biceps look huge as cotton strains to surround them, and I long to feel those arms around me. My college boyfriend has filled out nicely. I think he’s showing off for me too, because last night his shirt and pants were loose. I gaze at Esher’s butt in the snug jeans he’s wearing as he crouches down and opens the cabinet where I keep pots and pans.
I ask, “How do you know where things are?”
He glances over his shoulder at me as a frying pan clatters on the stovetop. “You’re logical. You put things where they should go.”
I move closer and ask, “What can I do to help?”
“You can make the coffee. I’ve got the rest.”
“On it.” Water rushes as I fill the carafe. I say, “This is a treat. I’ve never had a man cook for me.”
Bacon begins to sizzle as Esher says, “That probably shouldn’t make me as happy as it does.”
Coffee trickles into the pot, and the aroma of a dark roast mixes with the cooking pork. His shoulders are wider than I remember, and his shirt is tight across them as they set off his trim waist. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome.”
I ask, “Still just a splash of cream?”
He glances at me and nods as a hint of a smile forms on his face. I think he’s flattered I remembered. He asks, “Are you still a cream-and-sugar girl?”
“I am.” Hmm, maybe I left a lasting impression too. But my happiness fades, because I ne
ed to get something off my chest. “Esher, I don’t think I ever really apologized for what happened.”
“That’s because I didn’t let you.” Esher turns from the stove to face me.
I recall how mad he was when I told him I’d been testing my blood at the university lab, and about my plans for figuring out how we could turn the healing properties of werewolf blood into amazing things for human medicine. “Well, let me now, because this has weighed heavily on my mind for years. After my miraculous recovery, I was so grateful that I wanted to share my good fortune. I let my ambitions get in the way, and instead of thanking the person that helped me, I somehow managed to put you in harm’s way. I’m so very sorry.”
“Andi, your apology is accepted. And for the record, I forgave you a long time ago. We were both young and said things we didn’t mean.” He turns to flip the pancakes quickly before facing me again. “You’ve done more than enough making up for that. I know how you’ve been keeping us safe all these years. The leaders of the pack do too.” He lifts the pan of bacon and begins to lay the strips on a plate lined with paper towels.
His words surprise me. I’m not sure how the werewolves could know how I’ve botched any attempts at collecting data on them. “It’s the least I could do.”
Eggs crack as Esher hits them on the edge of the counter, and they snap and pop as he dumps them into the bacon grease. “It’s time for you to stop.”
“But why? I don’t understand.”
Esher turns to me and hands me the syrup and butter to put on the table. He says, “You’re putting yourself in danger now, and I think you know it.”
He plates up breakfast and carries the dishes over to sit. I do suspect that Dr. Sand came here because of more than getting her hand slapped. Not only doesn’t she trust that the Silver Lake wolves are normal, but she doesn’t trust me. I guess I didn’t want to face the reality of what that means. I ask, “Are you suggesting I should quit my job?”
Esher has a mouthful of food and nods at me while he chews. When he swallows he says, “If I could force you to, I would. I think you’ve got more to worry about than your leukemia.”
I place a bite of maple-syrup-soaked pancake in my mouth. If I didn’t work at the lab, what would I do? I gaze at the werewolf across from me and notice his strong body that is larger than the average man, and watch a hand that can grow claws in an instant as he lifts his coffee to take a sip. I realize that I’ve become a liability for the Silver Lake pack.
But will me leaving my job be enough? I set a horrible mission into place the day I told Dr. Sand I thought werewolves existed. I told her that I thought the folklore was true. They do heal quickly, and the very properties that allow them to do so could be what we needed to find a cure for cancer.
The food I’m still chewing has lost all flavor, and I swallow it down before I say, “I think you’re right.”
5
Esher’s breakfast left me so full, all I wanted to do was waddle to the couch, but he took me back to my car and made me promise that I’d consider quitting my job and call him as soon my doctor’s appointment was over. I spent the rest of my Sunday watching bad TV and contemplating what I would do for work if I did leave the university. Since being a rock star or actress is out, I came up with unemployed. Esher managed to kick my fear into high gear, so I checked out my financial status to see how long I could be without a job before I ran out of money. I have time. And getting a job may not matter once I’ve seen the doctor and confirm my diagnosis. I might be dying in a few months, which would make my money worries pointless.
As usual, I’m at the lab before Dr. Sand, and coffee trickles into the pot as I tidy up the remains of her mess from last Friday. Apparently the doctor’s attention to detail doesn’t include menial tasks she finds beneath her. I step out of the small kitchen area and glance around at the space that has been my oasis since I graduated from college. I recall the day I completed my thesis for my doctorate, and the champagne I shared with Dr. Field, my mentor whose job I went on to fill when he retired a year later.
The lab door swishes open and brings me back to reality as Dr. Sand enters. Her nearly black hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and she’s makeup free. Her severe appearance matches her personality perfectly, and the image of Cruella De Vil flashes in my head when she smiles as if I’m a good little puppy she can’t wait to skewer. “Coffee,” she says.
I don’t respond, and when I hear a ding indicating I received a text, I step into the kitchenette space to pull my phone out of my purse. I smile when I notice it’s from Esher. It reads, “Don’t forget I expect to hear from you today.”
I tap out a reply. “I promise I’ll call later.”
Dr. Sand asks, “Shall I pour you a cup?”
My phone clatters on the counter when I set it down, and I hide the frown I want to make at her act of kindness. “Yes. Thank you.”
Dark liquid gurgles into a mug when she tilts it, and she hands the drink to me. She says, “Andi, I realize things have been difficult since I arrived. I would have a hard time sharing my job too. I appreciate the effort you’ve been making.”
Whoa, miracles do happen. But I’m not that easily fooled, and I think she wants something. I say, “Thank you. It hasn’t been easy for me, but I’m sure we’ll find our stride.”
“Yes.” Dr. Sand gazes over her cup at me before she takes a sip of her coffee. She glances around the room as if someone might be lurking in the corner. “I’d like to revisit the werewolves.” She cocks an eyebrow and adds, “What do you say? Want to help me?”
I smile at her even though she’s suggesting we follow through on the one thing I regret most in life. I lift my mug to gaze over it and mimic her. I say, “That depends on your plan,” before I take a drink.
She glances at the section of my forearms my lab coat sleeves reveal, and I wince that she’s seeing my bruises. I wish I’d worn the long-sleeved tee I set aside when the weather called for a seventy-degree day. I swear evil dances in her eyes as she says, “I think you’re going to like it. I’ll print the proposal out for you later today.”
“Great.” I excuse myself to use the bathroom and to process how I’m going to deal with the latest development in my job. I have no doubt she’s testing me, and I need to figure out my own plan.
When I return from the restroom, Dr. Sand has my phone in her hand, and she appears to be fighting a smile as she says, “Dr. Murphy’s office called. I thought I should take it in case it was important.”
I think she may have been sent to me from Satan. I force myself to remain calm. “And?”
“Your doctor is running late this morning, so they’ve moved your appointment to a half hour later.”
“Thank you. But next time, please let voicemail take my calls.”
“Of course.” She hands me the phone, and I refrain from snatching it away as I take it from her. I sit at my laptop and sort through my emails as I calm down. As I’m in the middle of one from the dean of students, Dr. Sand appears in front of me. I glance up at her when she says, “Andi, dear. Dr. Murphy is an oncologist. What’s wrong?”
She googled Dr. Murphy? This time I don’t fight my anger and let it out. “My health is none of your concern, Gina.”
“You’re wrong. Your health is my concern, especially if it affects your ability to do your job. I saw the bruises. Hodgkin’s? Leukemia?”
The twinkle of happiness in her eyes makes me want to punch her. I say, “Perhaps you didn’t understand me the first time. It’s none of your business.” My laptop clicks shut, and I stand. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.”
Gina Sand follows me as I retrieve my purse and says, “This is exciting, if you think about it. We could test the theory that werewolf blood could heal a human and save your life.”
I try to push past her to leave, but she grabs me by the shoulders. Her entire being is quivering with excitement. “Andi, if we cure you, we could both become famous. Think about it.”
/> I glare at her. “You seem to be having a hard time with the concept of my privacy. Now let go of me.”
She releases me and calls out as I walk away. “I’ll have a new proposal ready for when you get back. This is a fabulous new discovery, Andi. You’ll see.”
I shove the door behind me to make it slam. But the noise does little to satisfy me. What it does do is hammer home the fact that I’m going to quit my job. Today. Because no way am I going to become Dr. Gina Sand’s new project and endanger the werewolves again.
6
I bite my lip as Dr. Murphy speaks. He’s leaning against his desk, and I focus on his blue eyes in the aging skin that sags around them. I wonder what my face will—would—look like when I’m in my sixties. He just confirmed that I have stage-four leukemia. He says, “I’d like to start the chemo as soon as possible.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to make my last few months miserable.”
“Andi, you can survive this. You’ve done it before.”
My quick recovery last time was an unexplained phenomenon thanks to the werewolf blood Esher injected into my vein. I have no idea if it can work again. “I already used up my miracle, Dr. Murphy.”
He sighs as he stands up. “Take a few days to think about your decision. All I need is a phone call, and we’ll get you in that day to start treatment.”
“Okay.” I rise slowly to keep from getting dizzy. “I’ll think about it. Thank you, Doctor.”
The kind man holds out his hands and squeezes mine gently when I take them. “God bless you.”
“Thanks.” I step out of his office, and my footsteps are nearly silent as I tread along the tightly woven carpet toward the checkout desk. God’s blessing isn’t what I need. I need Esher’s blood. I know I’ve lived longer than I should have, and I’m grateful for the years I’ve been given. I’m not ready to die, but can I swallow my pride to take what Esher is offering?
