by Wendy Stone
* * * *
Nashe quietly turned his key in the lock of the door, dropping the bag he carried onto the kitchen table before closing the door behind him. A scent caught him and he closed his eyes, breathing in the aroma of his shampoo and Terry. She was awake.
“Terry?” he called softly, heading down the hall to his bedroom and pushing open the half-closed door. Confusion had his eyes narrowing as he looked for her. He turned toward his bathroom, knocking on the door and pushing it open, finding it empty. “Terry?”
He went from room to room, searching for her with no luck before going back to the bedroom. The note he’d written this morning was gone and so were her clothes.
Without giving it any thought, he grabbed his keys, shoving them into the pocket of his jeans and headed out. Running down the sidewalk, he lifted his nose in the air, finding her scent easily and following. It disappeared at the edge of the sidewalk. She must have gotten a cab.
Waving down the next one, he gave the cabbie Terry’s address before sitting back. Kadian’s words kept spinning in his head mixed with Althea’s face as he’d last saw it, twisted in pain, her body no longer human, but not were either. Althea’s face turned to Terry’s, her blue eyes full of pain and accusations as she fell to the ground, unable to change fully to either were or human. He couldn’t do it again. He wouldn’t put a woman he loved in that much danger.
Nashe almost stopped the cab, but he couldn’t do that either. He had to talk to her. He had to see if what Kadian had said to him was true. Did she love him?
Throwing some money through the small slot in the plexi-glass, he got out and hurried up the long walk to Terry’s apartment. He hit the small button over her name and then waited.
“Yes?”
Her voice was muffled, electronically mangled but he could hear that something was wrong. “It’s me, Terry. Nashe.”
“Oh.” There was a pause, growing so long that he almost hit the buzzer again. “Come on up,” she said finally, buzzing him in.
Her door was open just a bit when he got to it. He pushed through, closing it quietly behind him. “Terry?” he called.
“In here.”
She stood at the kitchen sink, having changed from the leather pants and blue halter into a pair of sweats and a tank top. The water was running and she reached out and turned it off before turning to greet him. “Hi.”
“You left,” he said, confusion in his tone.
“I had to,” Terry whispered, her hands clasped together.
“Why?”
“This is a mistake,” she said, her head bent down, unable to look at him. “This… thing between us. It’s a mistake and I-I can’t do it anymore.”
Panic settled into his gut and he took two steps toward her before he realized what he was doing. “Why is it a mistake?” he heard himself ask.
“It-it just is. We were having fun. It’s nothing serious, remember?” She glanced up, her eyes roaming over him hungrily.
“We can’t just keep having fun?”
“N-no, Nashe, I-I can’t do this anymore. I w-want you to leave.”
The beast inside of him howled his rage and pain at hearing her utter those words. He reached out, grabbing her arms and yanking her to him. He didn’t hear her cry of pain. Instead, he tipped up her chin, his mouth grinding down on hers. Another step had her caught between him and the counter, freeing his hands.
He grabbed a fist full of blonde hair, still damp from her shower, holding it so that she couldn’t turn her face away from his punishing lips. They were rough, grinding her soft mouth against her teeth, twisting until she parted her lips to let his tongue in to explore. He kissed her with all the passion that was built up inside of him, his mouth gentling only when he felt her respond.
The fists she’d been pushing against his arm and chest opened slowly, gathering handfuls of his shirt and holding tight. She groaned, her tongue a hot flame against his then sliding into his mouth. He suckled upon it, hearing her groan again.
Letting go of her hair, he lifted his head just long enough to yank her tee shirt off her head. She was bare under it, bare and warm, her skin soft under his hands as they began to roam. Her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt, pulling them apart, yanking when they didn’t come free fast enough. Pulling the tails free of his pants, he stepped closer, finding her mouth again as the supple mounds of her breasts pressed against his chest.
Her hands in his hair drove him wild with need, sliding over his shoulders as he lifted her, resting her butt on the countertop behind her. He dipped his head, finding the pale rose tip of her breast, pulling it into his mouth. He lapped at it with his tongue, suckling upon the pebbled tip, rolled it between his teeth. Nashe heard her cries of pleasure, felt it in the hands that held his head, not wanting him to stop.
He couldn’t let her go. The thought ripped through him. He couldn’t live without her. His life would be nothing but routine, nothing to look forward to if he let her out of his life. She would consign him to a walking hell unless…
His mouth became more ardent, his tongue sliding around her nipple before slipping lower. His hands grasped the sides of her sweats, yanking them down as she used his shoulders to lift herself up. Pulling them off her feet, he fell to his knees in front of her, grabbing her thighs to drag her to the edge of the counter.
Terry’s scent was like another caress and he moaned, letting it fill him. He focused on the beauty of her lush pink flesh, the lips bare and parting for him, already damp with the dew of her arousal. He held her thigh with one hand, pushing it up, parting her wider, leaning in for that first sweet taste of woman, his woman.
She was salty sweet on his tongue, her clit a hardened knot of nerves to tease. Nashe explored her soft folds, listening to Terry’s cries of pleasure, feeling them deep inside of him. Her legs grew taut, her thighs closing on his head as he played between them and he knew she was close, the first explosion sweeter because he could taste it.
Thrusting two fingers inside of her, he stretched the spongy sheath, curving them upward to find the slightly rougher spot of sensitivity. His lips found her clit, drawing it into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue before biting down gently.
Her body tensed, her hips rose, fluttering against him in a maddened pace. He felt the first spasm with his fingers, his mouth moving, his tongue flicking, wanting to taste as she climaxed against him.
“Oh God, oh fuck,” she cried. “Nashe!”
Raising his head, he continued to move his fingers deep inside, holding her prisoner upon a peak of bliss. He stood, unbuttoning his jeans with one hand. She helped him tug them down, her hand drawn to the rigid proof of his need, stroking the shaft of his cock and making him grit his teeth.
Feeling her small fingers moving over him made a swirling tension grow in his gut. He wanted to be inside her, wanted to bury himself there and never leave again. He pulled his fingers free, hearing Terry’s moan of loss before tugging her off the counter. Spinning her around, he kicked her feet wide, settling between them and pushing his cock into the liquid warmth of her pussy.
His hand moved to her stomach, holding her against him. His other went to the counter, feeling the heat of her body on its surface. “Terry,” he moaned, thrusting into her, slowly at first. He could feel her pushing back, her hands coming around to touch him. She turned her head, lips seeking his. He could taste her blood in his mouth as well as the passion she felt.
Nashe lifted his head, his hand coming up to wipe away the small trail of blood he’d caused with his roughness earlier. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Terry’s blue eyes had the sheen of tears. Her voice was husky. “Just fuck me,” she whimpered. “Shut up and just fuck me.”
His hand rose to her breast, caressing it with a gentleness that had tears glistening on her cheeks. His mouth was on her shoulder even as he moved inside of her. His thrusts were long, deep, meant to please. He could tell he did by the way her bre
athing grew faster; by the movements of her body, the spasms that he could feel around his cock. The tension was boiling inside of him but he fought it, wanting to never end this moment, this last moment.
Her cries of ecstasy had him jerking against her, unable to stop it anymore. Feeling her climax, he closed his eyes, ramming himself home. Inside, the beast howled his pleasure and loneliness. Outside, he held her tight, shuddering against her, lips buried in her hair.
* * * *
Terry felt him come, the heat of him spurting deep inside of her, relishing each second that he was there. She leaned against the counter, feeling his lips move over her hair, touching her neck, her ear. She turned her head, letting him find her mouth.
This kiss was gentle, loving and sweet. It made what she had to do next all the harder and more bitter because of it.
Pulling her mouth away, she closed her eyes against his gaze, gently pushing him. Turning, she forced herself to look at him. He knew, she could see it in his beautiful green eyes. “Goodbye.”
Then she spun, walking naked into the bedroom, feeling his come leaking out. She sat on her bed, staring at the wall. Only the sound of the closing door made her blink. Then the tears came, harsh, bitter tears that tore at her soul.
Chapter Twelve
Terry woke to a dark apartment. She was curled in a small ball on top of her comforter, still naked. A strange feeling occupied the pit of her stomach, a sick feeling as if something was wrong but she couldn’t remember what.
Getting up, she grabbed for her robe. Her head throbbed from crying, her eyes were gritty from her tears. Her mouth held a funny taste. She needed a couple of aspirin and a glass of water. Then she’d allow herself to think.
She flipped on the bathroom light, blinking blearily as she waited for her eyes to adjust. Going to the sink, she opened one side of the wide medicine cabinet, pulling out her bottle of over-the-counter pain killers and popping two in her hand. Filling up a glass of water, she drained it, filling it again before tossing the pills in her mouth and swallowing them.
Sighing, she glanced into the mirror before turning and starting the shower. She was pulling off the robe when she suddenly realized what she’d seen in the mirror. “No,” she said slowly. “I’m seeing things. My eyes hurt, that’s all. And the light in here is too bright.” She closed her eyes as she walked back to the counter, terrified to look into the mirror.
“Oh shit!” she cried when she finally found the courage to open them, raising her hand to touch the patches of blonde fur growing on her face. Her eyes were a blue so light as to almost be white; the shape something more akin to a dog’s face than a human’s. “Oh shit! Shit! Shit!”
* * * *
Nashe stood at the maitre d’ podium, staring down at the full reservation book with a blank look in his eyes. He should be thrilled at the success of his restaurant. They were booked until after Valentine’s Day next year, except for the owner’s table. He always kept it empty, just in case.
He could hear the patrons behind him, the clink of silverware on the heavy square plates, the ring of crystal, quiet conversations and contented people. It was a wonderful sound, one that should have thrilled him. But today he could think only of Terry. The look in her eyes when she’d said goodbye had said it all. She didn’t feel like he did. She didn’t love him, no matter what Kadian might have said or thought.
“Nashe, are you all right?” Marta, his blonde and buxom hostess, asked. “You’ve been staring at that book for ten minutes without moving.” Reaching around to the book, she brushed her more than adequate breasts against him, purposefully keeping them there longer than an accidental touch. “You know, if you need to talk or anything, I’m here for you.”
Two weeks ago he would have more than likely flirted back with her, maybe even going so far as to taking her up on a bit of the anything she was offering. Now, he looked at her with a disinterested stare, giving her the same polite smile he’d been using on everyone but Sam. “Thanks, Marta. Seems you got everything here. I’m expecting a guest within the next few days. Kadian James. If he comes in, make sure you give him the best of everything. He and his party are on the house, okay?”
“The Kadian James?” Marta cooed. “I just love his music. He’s so in touch with the way a woman feels.”
Nashe’s smile was a little more genuine. “Make sure you tell him that if he comes in. He just loves to talk about his work.”
Marta nodded. “I will. Are you sure you’re all right? You look a bit pale.”
“Fine. I’m going into my office. I’d rather not be disturbed unless it’s an emergency.” He gave her another of those brittle smiles before turning away. Walking through his dining room, he stopped at a few tables, said hello to some of the diners, even bent and kissed a few cheeks of the women he knew. But his heart wasn’t in it. His heart was gone, in the hands of a woman who didn’t want it. One that could say goodbye to him.
Making it through, he stepped into his office, breathing a sigh of relief when the door was locked. He didn’t know how much more schmoozing he could do tonight. Nashe sat at his desk, staring at the books that needed his attention. He had bills that needed paying. Last night’s receipts needed tallying and the deposit made. He needed to figure out hours and the schedule for next week, as well as write out checks.
Yet all he wanted to do was put his head down into his hands and sulk, or get up and go to some bar, throw a few punches and maybe break a few heads. That might help him feel better. “Oh, who the fuck do I think I’m kidding,” he growled. The only thing that would help would be Terry.
“She doesn’t want anything to do with you. Just accept it and move on, Nashe.”
Grabbing his checkbook out of the center drawer, he pulled out last week’s time cards. This was the hardest part of running a business and one that took a lot of his attention. He might as well work on it now and get his mind off of Terry.
It didn’t work. His figures didn’t match and he ended up voiding three checks. Getting up, he unlocked the door to his office and slipped out, heading to the bar where he had Mick fix him a double. The handsome bartender had a gaggle of giggling debutantes sitting and nursing drinks. Nashe raised his eyebrow at the way the three women, barely twenty-one years old, threw themselves at the good looking Were-panther he’d just hired.
Mick rolled his eyes playfully, baring canines that were just a bit too sharp to be human. “Here you go, boss,” he said, pushing the drink across the bar.
“Keep it in your pants, Mick.” Nashe said softly. “I don’t want cat fights in the middle of Abstracts.”
Mick chuckled, tapping his thumb against the gold band on his left ring finger. “My wife would castrate me if I even considered it.”
“Good for her.” Nashe said, but the sight of the ring sent a fist into his gut. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes roaming over the room. Every seat was filled, everyone talking, laughing, enjoying themselves. Everywhere he looked there were couples. “Thanks,” he called to Mick, tipping his glass in salute.
The Were smiled and then went back to fixing drinks for both the bar and the dining room. Nashe headed back toward his office. He happened to glance at the maitre d’ podium just as the phone rang. Marta answered it, cocking her head toward him in askance.
He shook his, heading into the kitchen.
* * * *
“What is this?” Terry cried, her fingers touching the soft patches of fur. A sudden sharp pain twisted in her stomach and she almost fell to the floor, bending over to hold herself against it. “How did this happen?”
The kitchen, she suddenly remembered. Nashe had slammed his mouth on hers. She’d ripped open her lip on one of her teeth. Blood had poured from it, going into Nashe’s mouth. He’d fed off of her blood, then took her from behind. Either purposefully or accidentally, he’d begun the change.
“But did I get his blood?” she asked aloud, crying out and going to her knees on the tile floor. She made it to the toilet just in
time to lose what little was in her stomach, mostly bile. Tears poured onto her cheeks as dry heaves followed.
“God!” she growled when the spasms ended, rolling onto her back and pressing her cheek against the cold tiles. “Help me!”
She crawled from the bathroom, not caring that she’d left the water running or that she was naked. Her phone sat in the living room. Her apartment wasn’t that big, but it took over an hour to reach it as the cramping spasms would hit and send her writhing back to the floor every few feet.
She could feel her ears changing and rubbed her hand over them. They tapered into points, a thick fur covering the outside. It was soft fur, but it was fur! Agony ripped a small scream of pain from her lips and she threw herself backward, legs twisting, the muscles knotting in a torturous paroxysm. Her hands curled up, the pain like someone breaking her fingers as they grew into paws and then back into hands.
Terry could see the phone. It was ten feet away, but it felt like ten miles. Inside, her body shook, tremors making every little pain so much stronger. Her mind flew, trying to combat the agony. One thought kept returning, spinning around and around like a child’s top. Had he done this to her on purpose?
Dragging herself forward on the carpet, she finally got hold of her phone, punching in the numbers for Abstract.
“Abstracts, Marta speaking,” the voice on the other end of the line said. Terry curled her lip, picturing the voluptuous hostess. A feral growl broke through her lips, from a beginning deep in her chest.
“How may I help you?”
“Nashe Wolfe, please,” Terry managed to gasp.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wolfe is unavailable. Perhaps if you tell me what you need, ma’am, I can help you.”
I need to rip out your throat , Terry thought. “Go and tell him that Terry Taylor is on the phone.”
“I can’t do that, ma’am. As I said, Mr. Wolfe is unavailable tonight. If you’d like, I can take a message and get it to him when he is available?”
