Red

by Tracey H. Kitts

  After taking a few minutes to try to digest this information I heard Marco yell from the bedroom, “Silk or satin?"

  "Silk,” I answered without thinking.

  I heard the chair move slightly and assumed he'd sat back down before I thought to add, “Marco, leave the bra out, will you?"

  "Sure, but why?"

  "I rarely sleep without one. I don't want to wake up one morning with my breasts around my waist."

  He laughed and it made me smile.

  "Red?"

  "Yes?"

  "There's something I want to ask you. Now that you've seen the painting ... Are you afraid of me?"

  "No,” I answered as I turned off the water.

  Most people might have been frightened to know that their long time enemy had painted such an intimate portrait of them, but I wasn't. Marco didn't give off that obsessed lunatic vibe. Besides, after what I'd put of him in my sketchbook, I had no right to judge.

  "I'm not a psycho or anything.” As he said this his bare muscular arm reached around the corner with a towel in hand.

  "I know,” I said, snatching the towel and wrapping it around me quickly. “You're not naked out there are you?"

  I heard a rustle of fabric before he answered, “Not anymore."

  When I stepped out I was relieved to see him standing there in a black bathrobe that was securely tied in front. It was both a disappointment and a relief to be spared the naked sight of him. So far, I'd been on my best behavior, but there was only so much I could take.

  "I've laid out something for you on the bed."

  The lights flickered again.

  "I'd better hurry,” he added.

  Marco brushed past me and a moment later I was hit in the face by his bathrobe. He was laughing when he turned on the water.

  "Hey, Red?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Before you go, run some water in the tub, just in case we're without power for a while."

  I left the water running and went to get dressed. Marco had left a pair of red silk pajamas on his bed with my black lace bra laid across them. As I slipped into the pajamas I could tell by their size that they were his. I rolled the top of the pants down a few times and rolled the legs up so I wouldn't trip. I had just slid the top around my shoulders when I heard him turn off the shower. Hurriedly I buttoned the shirt, leaving the last few buttons open so that the unscarred part of my stomach just below the navel was revealed.

  I heard his wet feet slapping across the tile and knew that he was walking naked across the bathroom. I excused myself to the large living room so he could get dressed. But when I left, he didn't close the door.

  As I sat among the huge pillows on the leather sofa near the fire I asked, “Why did you take me to a hotel?"

  "Huh?” I heard him stumble over something.

  "When I picked you up that night, why not bring me here?"

  "Because I wasn't sure I could trust you."

  "And you're so certain now?"

  "Not really."

  Marco emerged from the bedroom looking like a wet dream. He was wearing pajama pants that matched mine, but in place of a regular top, he wore a matching robe which hung to mid calf. The robe was open, revealing just how well the honeyed bronze of his skin was complemented by the red. As he walked, I could see the beginnings of a tattoo that must have reached around his lower back, because it came to a downward point just above the muscular curve of his hips.

  When Marco stopped beside the couch he ran a hand through his dark wet hair and I shivered.

  "Matching pjs?” I asked.

  "It's not like anybody's going to see.” He smiled. “Are you hungry?"

  There was a clock on the table beside the couch, and I leaned over to look at it.

  "It's twelve thirty,” I said dryly.

  "Haven't you ever heard of a midnight snack?"

  Since he mentioned it, my stomach did feel kind of empty. So, I followed him to the kitchen, which was a little bigger than mine, with deep mahogany cabinets and stainless steel appliances. Above the cabinets were a variety of odd shaped vases. A table sat near the back of the room that could seat eight people. It had an odd arrangement as a centerpiece, another faded red basket in the shape of a vase filled with a bizarre assortment of willow branches, palm leaves, and various wing dings.

  He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled both doors open wide.

  "You know,” he remarked thoughtfully, “I'm pretty sure it was me that picked you up."

  "What would give you that impression?” I moved closer to look under his arm and into the fridge.

  "Because it was my suggestion to leave,” he said smugly.

  "I hate you,” I breathed, but my words lacked conviction.

  "Yeah, I hate you, too,” he said, leaning in to reach something in the back of the refrigerator. “Have some fruit.” Marco handed me a large dish full of pineapple.

  "How did you know I liked pineapple?"

  "It's the first thing you did when you got your drink."

  "What?"

  "You ate the pineapple after stirring it around in the rum,” he said absently.

  I looked at him in amazement as he continued to dig through the leftovers in his refrigerator. “Is there anything you don't notice?"

  "Not much.” He smiled.

  After a few minutes, he had removed some more fruit, grilled chicken, and a plate of what looked like raw strips of steak. He took all of this, placed it on a tray, and carried it toward the bedroom.

  "Where are you going?” I asked.

  "To bed."

  "You expect me to get in the bed with you?"

  "Look, there's a television in the bedroom and I want to see the weather report."

  That sounded completely reasonable, but I didn't trust Marco as far as I could throw him, and I was no weightlifter. He had lit some of the candles earlier and as I walked past them I breathed in their soft vanilla fragrance.

  "Will you close the curtains please?” he asked.

  After pulling their cords and watching all three sets of curtains swish to a close, I walked back in the bedroom. Marco was reclined back against the pillows with his ankles crossed and the tray beside him. His attention was focused intently on the plasma screen TV that was attached to the wall at the foot of the bed.

  I went around to the side of the bed near the bathroom and crawled up beside him. He looked very serious.

  "What are they saying?"

  "It'll be here in a few hours, and it's not losing much strength."

  He got up and closed the curtain on the one window in his bedroom beside the closet door and said, “I'm going downstairs. I'll be right back."

  Just then something smashed against the window. I quickly slid off the bed and took a step toward him. “You wanna come?” He smiled.

  "Don't be an asshole, Marco."

  "It's a bit late for that."

  I agreed, but I kept it to myself. Normally by the time the weather ever got this bad I went to the dungeon. But, seeing as how I didn't have that option at the time I decided to go with Marco. After spending the last several hurricanes below ground, I had forgotten just how frightening they could sometimes be. Plus, I had found his presence strangely comforting ever since the night when he had nuzzled against my thigh.

  As we entered the main room and began to walk down the stairs I noticed I was holding on to the back of his robe and immediately let go, but not before several people, including Luther, had seen. Luther raised his eyebrow at me, but didn't comment. Smart man. Marco made sure the front door was bolted and the windows were either taped or boarded up. I noticed several of the female werewolves in the crowd practically drooling over Marco as he made his way around the room checking everything.

  One woman in particular gave me a nasty look then went back to leering at Marco, and it pissed me off. I felt something inside of me rise up in response to her challenge, because it was a challenge if I'd ever seen one.

  When Marco walked back to whe
re I stood halfway up the stairs, I leaned into him, reaching my hands inside his robe. He looked a question at me and I stood on tiptoe in order to whisper, “If that bitch looks at me like that again, I'll kill her."

  He leaned back and looked into my eyes a moment before giving me a seductive smile. “You wouldn't be trying to mislead my pack, now would you? Because you haven't accepted my offer."

  I took hold of his robe near the collar and pulled him toward me. “I'm just marking my territory,” I whispered as I kissed the delicate skin just behind his earlobe.

  "Your territory, hmm?” he purred, his voice beginning to deepen with desire.

  "As far as they're concerned it is."

  He pulled back.

  "You mean until you can make up your mind, they better walk the line.” It was a statement of fact.

  "You're damn right."

  He smiled at me, but his eyes held a touch of sadness. “Don't use me, Red."

  I caressed the side of his face and from the view everyone else had, it must have looked fairly intimate.

  "I would never deliberately hurt you,” I whispered.

  "Good, you do enough damage accidentally."

  While I wondered exactly how to take his last remark, Marco turned to Luther and asked, “Is everything under control down here?"

  "Yes,” Luther answered. “Get some rest."

  I turned sharply toward Luther at his last words, but he managed to keep a straight face. About that time the drunken DJ staggered to the foot of the stairs and howled, “Damn, it's good to be the king! That's what I'm talkin’ about. You know you're top wolf when you take Death to bed in matching pajamas."

  Marco tried to play it cool, but I saw the beginnings of a smile as he told Luther, “Get him some coffee."

  The inebriated werewolf then barked like a dog and did an awkward flip.

  "Or a tranquilizer,” Marco suggested.

  Once we were back in his apartment, I'd had time to think about what he'd said downstairs.

  "Marco, I'm sorry if...."

  "It's alright, Red,” he said softly. “I'm not going to try to steal you away from your scientist."

  "I didn't mean to tease you."

  "You didn't tease me, Red. You were serious. You just don't have the heart to follow through with the threat."

  "Bastard."

  "But I'm right. You'll soon find that your scientist buddy is not enough for you."

  "And you're just going to wait around?"

  "You'll find I'm very patient.” He smiled.

  "You know, Mathias said the same thing,” I said irritably.

  "That I'm patient?"

  "No, that no ordinary man would ever understand me."

  "Did he?” This seemed to please him.

  "What do you two think I am, some sort of sex maniac?"

  Marco looked frustrated. “Get your mind out of my pants, Red. It's not all about sex."

  I would have argued, but I was tired and he was right.

  "Then what's it about?"

  "Come to bed with me and I'll show you. But first, I'm going to eat something."

  That sounded like a come on if I'd ever heard one, but he didn't leave me much choice except to follow him. Once we were both situated back on the bed and Marco had a mouth full of raw steak he realized we didn't have anything to drink.

  He stomped back toward the kitchen with a growl and after a minute or two yelled, “Water, wine, or beer?"

  "Red wine?"

  "Yeah,” there was still a touch of growl in his voice.

  "What kind?"

  "Does it matter?” He was definitely growling at me.

  "Make it a beer then. Do you have any lime?"

  He didn't answer, but when he returned in a minute, he brought two key limes and a knife and laid them in front of me. I sliced the lime small enough to stuff a few pieces into the bottle and swished them around. Marco still looked like his butt was thoroughly chapped, so I didn't offer him any.

  We ate in silence, both of us watching the weather report. Finally I worked up the nerve to ask, “Can I get on that side?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Because this side is closest to the door."

  "So?"

  "So, if anybody comes through that door, they'll have to go through me to get to you."

  Well, that shut me up. I still hadn't gotten used to the idea of Marco wanting to protect me. For the next several minutes I ate pineapple and shut my mouth. According to the weather report, hurricane Alistair would reach us by around four in the morning.

  My head was beginning to nod involuntarily when Marco got up and went into the bathroom. He left the door open and I could hear him brushing his teeth. When he came back, he took the tray to the kitchen without a word, came back and slid close to me across the satin sheets.

  "Come here,” he said.

  "I thought you weren't going to molest me,” I objected, but not like my heart was in it.

  He sighed, “Just shut up and come here."

  "My, grandma what a chapped ass you have."

  Marco smiled, but he didn't want to.

  "I don't know if I can just snuggle up to you like this,” I said.

  "I won't bite."

  "But—"

  "Let me show you something."

  I would have thought he was making a pass at me, but his expression said otherwise. As I slid closer to Marco the heat from his skin seemed to rise to meet me. He was warm and inviting, like a blanket in winter.

  "The desire that you feel to touch me is not completely sexual,” he explained. As he said this, the warm and sexual feeling which usually emanated from Marco changed slightly. It was the comforting feeling I had been experiencing off and on that night.

  "What is it?” I asked.

  "Have you ever wondered why members of the pack like to stay so close to one another?"

  "I've only recently noticed it. I didn't exactly hang out with werewolves before."

  "It's because there is safety in the pack. There is a feeling of comfort and security that they get from being near each other, much like natural wolves."

  "I had wondered, but why are you telling me this?"

  "Because I believe that there is enough of the wolf in you to feel the same way."

  The thought of me reacting to him like another werewolf frightened me. All of the memories of Peter calling me a monster, of people being afraid of me, they all began to surface. Marco must have read my expression.

  "Do you think of me as a monster?” he asked gently.

  "I used to,” my voice was nearly a whisper.

  "And now?"

  "Now ... I'm not so sure.” Marco reached out to me and I leaned into his embrace. I ran my hand over the ridged muscles of his stomach, gently caressing the fine hairs that ran down his torso. As if by instinct I snuggled closer to him, rubbing my face against his throat.

  When I reached the hairline just behind his ear, I breathed deeply. I ran my nose further into his hair with every breath. Marco always smelled good, but there was something else underneath his scent. There was the smell of fresh air, of wide open fields and forest. But beneath all of that was the unmistakable scent of a wolf. As I breathed in that scent, I felt comfort in it and knew that Marco had been right about me.

  "But, I've never felt this from being near another werewolf."

  "I am alpha,” Marco answered simply. “I affect you more strongly. Besides, it's only natural for one alpha to find comfort in the embrace of another."

  "So that means that I'm...” I couldn't finish the sentence.

  "Werewolf enough to recognize the scent of the pack just now,” he finished for me.

  I trembled slightly and Marco pulled me back against him.

  "If anyone knew ... I had no idea that the transformation was so close to being complete. Some of the Hunters I know might kill me."

  "Shh,” he whispered softly. “I won't tell anybody."

  "Marco, I'm serious, if anyon
e knew...."

  "Don't panic. You're still not a werewolf. Your body mutated the virus in a way I would have never thought possible. You're definitely something else, but you're at least half werewolf."

  "Shit."

  Marco stroked my hair and I felt my eyes beginning to shut of their own accord.

  "Look at it this way,” he soothed, “you've been this way for years now. You just didn't know it."

  "I'm scared,” I confessed.

  "Of what?"

  "Of everything."

  Marco held me tighter as he repeated, “Whatever comes through that door has to get through me first."

  "I don't think you can protect me from what I'm afraid of."

  "Maybe not, but tonight I can keep you safe from the storm."

  "What about tomorrow?” I mumbled against his throat.

  He pulled me to rest nearly on top of him as he answered, “No use worrying about it now."

  I rested my face against Marco's chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The weather report droned on in the background as the storm raged like an angry beast outside. My small body rose and fell with his breathing where I lay atop him. Any other time, I would have torn Marco apart, but I needed comfort and that was what he had offered. I wasn't stupid. The way he looked at me was plain to see. But he was sincere in his desire to protect me and I needed a protector.

  Of course I would never admit out loud that I wanted to be taken care of, but it was true. I liked being able to do things on my own, and when it came down to brass tacks, I didn't need anyone ... I just wanted someone. I was tough and strong willed, so not just any man would do. I needed someone man enough to put me in my place. By that, I don't mean someone harsh, but a man who knew how to take charge when it was necessary and had enough sense to know when it wasn't.

  The longer I lay against Marco's body, the better I felt. His skin was hot to the touch, but not quite the fever that he ran before the full moon. I was beginning to realize that Marco always ran a slight temperature and I wondered if all werewolves did the same.

  I kept brushing my face absently against the hair on his chest. He gave me the feeling of pressing a warm towel, straight out of the dryer against my cheek. I sighed deeply as I ran my left hand underneath his shoulder, pulling myself further up against his neck. He put his hand over me and began to rub my back.