“But you were with a pack…”
“I found I liked my life as a wolf more than my life as a man and so I stayed in my wolf form and roamed alone for years. Then I chanced on a young she-wolf and we, um, became a pair.”
“You actually mated physically?”
He wanted to be truthful with her, but wondered how she would take it.
“During the weeks she was in heat each year we mated often.” He looked over at her as her gaze remained on the road. Was it his imagination or had she paled slightly? He prayed after all they’d been through that he wasn’t going to lose her over this. “I was more animal than human during that period. I had lived uninterruptedly as a wolf for several years. My mind had become like a wolf’s—I was no longer a man, I was a beast.
“She never had any pups or little man-wolves or shape-shifters or whatever the hell I am—I suppose I’m sterile, at least with a wolf mate. We formed a pack with some strays whose parents, the alpha wolves of their pack, had been killed, and she and I became the alphas, the leaders. I was reasonably content with my wolf life, except that when the moon was just a sliver, I’d feel the pull to return to my human form. I resisted, though, and as the years went by doing so became easier.
“Then a few years ago my mate was shot and badly wounded and there was nothing I could do for her, neither as a wolf nor as a man. I watched her suffer for days.” He paused and looked down at his hands, which were in two tight fists. “When she died, I mourned, and I swore I would find the men who shot her and kill them. Joel and Billy Coughlin were those men and now they’ve slaughtered two others of my pack.” His voice was harsh. “If Joel hadn’t shot me, Billy would be dead.” Michael slammed his fist into his palm. “The time will come when I will kill them both.”
They were both silent for a few minutes and then he continued. “After she died I began thinking like a man. I yearned to be human again, yet I didn’t want to leave my pack. During the day I would be a man and I worked part-time helping out on a big farm about six miles from your place. But every night I hunted with the pack and slept with them. I figured out how to hide my clothes. I’d transition every morning, put the clothes on, work for half a day and then go into the woods, get the clothes I’d worn the day before, and go over to the Laundromat to wash and dry them. Then I’d hide them, along with the clothes I was wearing, and transition back into a wolf and hunt with the pack.
“One day, when we were hunting—it was early spring this year and food was scarce so we were scoping out the farms—I saw you. You were trying to fix the chicken coop and that big mutt was by your side. He sensed us and started barking. You turned and looked up the hill where we stood, but we were in the cover of the woods. I don’t think you saw us.”
How could he explain how he’d felt? He couldn’t understand it himself. He’d seen her come out of that chicken coop, stand up, and push the tendrils of dark hair coming loose from her ponytail out of her face. She’d looked his way and he’d known that she was what he wanted, that in all the world, she was the one to whom he longed to give his heart, human and wolf. She was the one with whom he wished to mate for life.
“The next time I saw you was a couple months later, during this past summer. We happened to be resting one afternoon at the top of the hill behind your place and you came out with a little basket and picked raspberries.” No need to say that he hadn’t hunted that night, but had sat as man, naked on the hillside, looking at her house. And that when the lights had gone on in the kitchen, he wondered if there were some way he could meet her, to get to know her. He wondered if perhaps she might come to care for him, but decided that she deserved a proper man, not someone who was half beast like himself. He watched her make dinner while he wished with all his heart and soul that he was an ordinary man.
Chapter Six
As soon as she turned the ignition off in front of the house, Michael asked, “Where can I find a shovel?”
“A shovel?”
“Yes, I want to bury the dead wolves.
“You need to rest. You should lie down…” She could see by the way he moved carefully and slowly that he was still in pain. She had expected him to be in bed for at least a couple days before he started working around the farm.
“They were my companions for years. I can’t rest while their bodies lie there.”
“Can’t it wait a day?” He shook his head. She gave him a small smile. “There’s a little backhoe in the barn,” she said, leading him around the house to the barn.
“Maybe you could show me how to use it and I could do it—”
“Laura, I need to do this myself.”
She nodded, took the key from its hook just inside the barn door, and handed it to him. She went into the house where she stood by the kitchen window and watched Michael work the backhoe for a while, tears of pity for him rolling down her cheeks. She turned from the window and wiped her face with a dishtowel. Willing herself to stop crying, she put the water on to boil, and then made sandwiches.
He looked sad and pale when he came back inside and Laura made him lie down on the sofa. She put a blanket over him and then brought him a sandwich and cup of cocoa.
“I’ll start doing things around the farm tomorrow.” He gave her a small smile.
“I don’t want you working until you’ve totally recovered.”
“I’ll be recovered enough by tomorrow.”
“That’s impossible. You can’t begin working so soon.”
“I certainly can and I will.”
“You will not.”
They glared at each other, both refusing to cave or compromise. Finally, she burst out laughing. He looked puzzled for a minute and then he, too, laughed. Something, she suspected, he hadn’t done in a very long time. She almost went to him, tempted to throw her arms around him, but caught herself in time.
***
Michael fell asleep on the sofa in her living room while Laura sat in the chair across from him. She studied him more closely than she would have been comfortable doing if he’d been awake. His wolfish hair tumbled across his forehead and his expression looked peaceful. He’d said he felt at home here, in a way he’d never felt indoors, and smiled at her just before his eyes closed. She felt comforted by his presence. Perhaps having him stay with her would be easier than she thought. Perhaps she could keep her desire for him under control and be able to simply enjoy his presence without wanting to touch, to kiss, to explore… She found herself reaching a hand out to him, wanting to run her fingers through that shaggy hair, to stroke his face, his neck, his shoulders. She was tempted to go to her knees beside him, to open her shirt, and place those broad hands on her breasts; she longed to make love with him. She withdrew her hand.
No more thinking like that. Enough to have a wounded man who is also a wolf sleeping on my sofa without wanting to jump his bones all the time.
She gently straightened the blanket over Michael’s sleeping form and went outside to feed the chickens.
Since she hadn’t fed them the night before, the birds, desperate to eat, practically attacked her when she went in with the feed. Once they’d calmed down, she cleaned out their water supply. As she climbed out of the coop, Joel Coughlin stepped from behind a nearby tree.
“Well, well, little lady, I’ve come to fetch our guns.” How she hated him and his arrogance and cruelty. He was handsome in a brutish way: well-built with limp, dirty-blond hair that fell to his shoulders, gold chains around his neck, ice-cold blue eyes, and a small, hard, mouth. Perhaps another woman might find him attractive, but she found him repulsive. The triumphant smile that played on his thin lips frightened her.
She didn’t want to give him the guns—they’d just be used for more illegal, unwarranted killing. She said nothing and turned toward the house, deciding she would lock herself inside until he left, but he leaped forward and took hold of her arm.
“Don’t be so standoffish, princess. I think a little appreciation is in order. Me and my daddy, we saved yo
u from those wolves, lent you a gun—”
“You did no such thing! Those wolves are protected animals. They weren’t doing any harm. You attacked them.”
“Is that so? Well, you just listen up, missy, you can think what you want, but the truth is you owe me and you owe Daddy, and today is pay-up time. We’ve had enough of you looking down your nose at us, enough of you thinking you’re better than us. Daddy got injured trying to help you out and you never even thanked him.”
“He was injured trying to attack me.”
“Attack? You call that an attack? He was just being friendly, just trying to get back what’s owed to him.”
“I don’t owe you or your father anything.” She tried to pull her arm away, but he swung her around and grabbed her other arm as well.
“The hell you don’t. We’re sick of you always trying to tell us what to do.”
“All I’ve ever told you to do is to leave my property alone.” She hoped her voice wasn’t wavering. Terror was overcoming her, but she was determined not to show it.
“You aren’t being very neighborly.” He frowned as he squeezed her arms so hard that she almost cried out in pain. “And not very neighborly of you to pull my daddy’s gun on us, now was it?” He narrowed his eyes and shook her. “You’re gonna make that up to me and my daddy, aren’t you?” He shook her again. He brought his face close to hers and smiled that frightening triumphant smile. “You’re gonna come over to our house and you’re gonna make both of us feel so much better.”
“Let go of me.” She tried to pull away again.
He scowled. “You listen to me, bitch, you better just go along and be good to me. My daddy, he likes to play rough with girls like you, real rough, and it’s been a long time since he got to do the things he likes to do. If you behave real good with me, if you’re really nice to me, I just might forgive you for pulling that gun on me. I just might see that Daddy doesn’t hurt you too damn bad. I just might want to keep you around for my own self for a while—maybe a long while if you’re real good to me. You understand?” He shook her hard. “You understand, bitch?” He cocked his head and turned his ear toward the woods. “You hear that wolf baying? If you don’t behave, you’re gonna be his dinner,” he said, snickering. “Not tonight of course, because no matter what, me and Daddy are going to have our fun with you.”
Terrified, Laura struggled desperately to free herself from his grip, but Joel was so much bigger and stronger, there seemed to be nothing she could do. She screamed, raw terror overwhelming her. There was no one around except Michael, who was wounded and asleep on the couch inside her house, sixty feet away. He was too far away to hear her and even if he did, he wouldn’t know that she had stashed the guns under a floorboard in the barn.
Joel twisted her arms painfully behind her, jerked her up against himself, and put his face close to hers. “Shut up! When are you going to understand? You’re gonna do exactly what I want, or you’re gonna be sorry.”
Laura practically wept with relief when she heard a car come up the driveway until she realized that it was Billy Coughlin’s truck.
“Well, here’s Daddy, come to fetch us.” He turned her away from him and she watched Billy Coughlin heave his bulk out of the truck. He had a dirty bandage visible in the open neck of his coat and an evil smile on his ugly face.
“She giving you trouble, boy?” he asked, pulling the belt from his pants. “It’s time that woman had a good beating.” He hit the snow with his belt and held a wicked-looking knife in his other hand.
“We got interrupted the last time, but now we’ve got her.” He sniggered. “I’m just gonna cut those clothes off of her and then we’ll tie her to that tree.”
Joel held her arms tight behind her as Billy came toward her, grinning broadly.
He waved the knife in front of her face. She closed her eyes but they flew open again when she heard snarling and found herself jolted forward as Joel, with a strangled cry, let go of her. Billy lay on his back, a wolf tearing at his throat, while another wolf had its teeth in the arm that held the knife. Meanwhile, Joel was in a deadly embrace with Michael—who was in human form—who she could see looked even paler than he had before. She feared that the injured man-wolf would be no match for Joel.
Laura grabbed the belt that Billy had dropped and took hold of the two ends. She threw it over Joel’s head and pulled it taut. Michael fell from Joel’s embrace as Joel, gagging and gasping, yanked the belt away from his throat. He turned to Laura and lunged for her. She barely backed away in time. Ignoring the screams of his father, he reached for her again, and again she stepped back in time to avoid his reach.
“Bitch,” he said, “I’ll get you sooner or later.” He was grinning as he came toward her. Backing away, she tripped and almost lost her balance. He laughed.
She staggered to the side as Joel came crashing down where she had stood just a second before. A snarling gray wolf was on top of him. It was Michael—he’d transformed into a wolf! It wasn’t long before the snarling and the screaming stopped. The Coughlins were now two mangled bodies with gray wolves tearing at them.
“Go inside, Laura.” Michael, in human form again, wiped the blood from his face with one hand and put the other on her shoulder. “You’re safe now. You don’t need to see this.”
Laura staggered to the house, realizing she wasn’t going to be tortured and raped, that her attackers were gone for good.
She stood in the hot shower until the water ran cold, alternately crying and laughing and crooning to herself. More than anything she wished Michael was there to comfort her, but she knew she could handle this herself. Thanks to him, she hadn’t been badly injured. She was alive, she was free, and what the hell, she was in love with a man who was also a wolf.
She changed her mind about the spare bedroom; she wanted that sexy man-wolf in her own bed and just as soon as possible. She wasn’t going to be shy anymore.
Chapter Seven
Laura stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a big bath towel. She wiped the condensation off the window and peered outside. She saw no bodies, no wolves, no sign of the struggle—only Michael, now dressed in the clothes she’d bought for him, his face clean of blood, driving the backhoe back and forth, filling a new hole in the field where the Coughlins had died. She knew that there would be no one in the neighborhood who would miss the two men, no one who would inquire where they had gone.
Laura watched Michael park the backhoe and walk over to the other burial mound on the hill. He stood beside it, shoulders slumped, and Laura’s heart went out to him. The two wolves buried there had been his companions for years. She saw him lift his head and howl. She heard an answering howl. Then, he tore off his clothes and ran, limping a little, toward the woods. By the time he got there, he was a gray wolf.
Laura stood at the window, stunned. He was gone. Just like that he’d vanished. Tears came to her eyes. Had he decided being human was too difficult? Was he gone for good? Would he come back tonight? In the morning? Sometime? Never? Had it been a silly fantasy to think that a man who was also a wolf could ever be tame enough to want to be around someone as ordinary as herself? Yet she’d been so sure, whenever their gaze had met, that he desired her. She’d hoped that there was even more feeling than that—she’d hoped that Michael loved her. Now…now she just felt stupid and terribly sad. And angry.
“Damn it,” she said. “Let him go back to being an animal if he can’t hack it as a man. Let him go find a she-wolf, I can manage perfectly well on my own. I don’t need him.” Then she cried, overwhelmed with the powerful feelings of love and desire for Michael and the fear that he was gone forever. The wildness in her had connected with the wildness in him. They both yearned to run free, shy and fierce at the same time.
Had she been too shy? Should she have revealed her tumultuous feelings for him even though she had been unsure of his feelings toward her?
“I love him,” she said out loud. “I want him. I think we belong togethe
r. I am going to find him, damn it. I am going to tell him how I feel and he can like it or lump it.” She threw on her clothes, not bothering with underwear, and ran out the back door.
Calling his name as loudly as she could, she ran up the hill toward the darkening woods. Behind her, the sun was setting in a blaze of reds and yellows. She heard a howl—not too far, she thought—and hurried toward the sound. Part of her was telling her to hurry, to catch up with him, that her whole future depended on her finding this wolf-man. Another part reminded her that there were other wolves in the woods. Wolves that were pure animal, wolves that might conceivably attack her. That was a risk she was willing to take. No animal could do anything to compare with the horror of what the Coughlins had had in store for her.
It was becoming very dark as Laura hurried on, calling Michael’s name. She heard another howl and she called out again, rushing toward the sound. She stumbled over a rock and fell painfully to her hands and knees. She got to her feet and looked up through the naked branches of the trees. Clouds covered the sky and the moon was just a faint glow. She walked more carefully now, trying to feel her way with her hands and feet. She tripped again and, barely managing to stay upright, skinned her hand on the rough bark of the branch she was holding on to for support. She called out, but there was no answering wolf call.
Go home, said the sensible part of her brain. No, I will find him, replied her unreasonable heart. The sensible brain said nothing. It was too late—there was no way she could find her way home in the dark. In fact, she doubted she would even be able to find her way in the morning.
Cry of the Wolf Page 3
