Renee was inscrutable as Kelly handed the whisky back.
“Did I scare anyone? Did I scare the dogs too much?” Kelly asked.
“Not too much,” Renee replied. “I mean, we were shaken since we’d never seen anything like that from you before.”
“It’s been years. I didn’t think to warn you.”
“That’s all right,” Renee said, waving the bottle as though pushing aside the apology. “The dogs were agitated, but they mostly just stayed out of your way. It was like you couldn’t see them.”
“I don’t remember,” Kelly said.
“Then you stepped back and fell on the ground. For a while you were just staring. You didn’t even blink. I had to check your pulse to make sure you were still alive. Eventually, you closed your eyes. You slept for about four hours. I told everyone else to go to bed, that I’d watch over you. Malcolm wanted to stay, but his energy bothers the dogs more than yours. I told him he should probably leave and run it off.”
“That’s good,” Kelly said.
“Do you remember anything?” Renee asked. She took a big drink, her face pinched as she swallowed.
“No,” Kelly said. “I never do.”
“Do you know what that means?” Renee asked, indicating the wall with the bottle. “I know what the outside one means.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose, Renee,” Kelly said.
“I know,” Renee replied shortly.
“I don’t know the man. I get a feeling about him, but I can’t put a finger on what the feeling means. I usually know. The wolves, though… I think they mean company’s coming.”
Renee took another swig. “Sounds like fun.”
“I’ll protect your dogs if it comes to that,” Kelly said. “I can do that for you.”
“Damn right you will,” Renee said, irritated.
“I’m sorry I brought this to you,” Kelly said.
“I’m hardly one to talk,” Renee replied.
Kelly slid down from the arm onto the cushion next to Renee and accepted the bottle Renee handed to her again.
“Look at us, the murder twins,” Renee said. “I’m going to lie and blame the alcohol for the maudlin, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Kelly said. She gave the whisky back to Renee for good this time.
“What’d you use?” Renee asked. “Did you use silver against David? I don’t think that would be safe.”
“No, I didn’t need silver,” Kelly said. “Not that I killed him the safe way. I guess I could have just snapped his neck with my mind, but…” The thought made her shudder, how easy it could be for her if she let it. “I changed into a wolf and so did he when he realised I wasn’t going to obey him. I let him get a few blows in, then I ripped his throat out.”
“But you didn’t want him to change me,” Renee said.
“Do you want to know what would have happened if you had let Grant change you or if David had got to you?” Kelly asked. Maybe this was the closure that Renee needed. It didn’t exactly thrill Kelly to give it to her.
“Do I want to know?”
“Probably not, but you need to, to understand that you didn’t murder Grant. You killed Grant in self-defence. Why do you think that detective advocated to the authorities not to pursue charges? He has a straight reputation. Without it, you might have had to try to prove your innocence while avoiding the supernatural explanation. You wouldn’t have won. You would have gone to prison for voluntary manslaughter, and you wouldn’t be here now in your sanctuary with your dogs and your pack. But that would have been nothing in comparison to what would have happened if Grant had changed you.”
“Okay. Hit me.” Renee took three generous swallows of the whisky, closed the bottle and put it on the ground near her feet, out of the way of Baron’s giant paws.
The whisky was already starting to hit Kelly. She drifted back on the sofa cushions, her head light. The sinking sensation dulled into mild unease that faded with each passing minute.
“Prison time was one of your paths, but it was an unlikely one with Detective Ebon’s involvement. Another path that was stronger, clearer for me to see and far more likely, was you becoming a werewolf,” Kelly said. “No matter who was responsible for turning you, your outcome was the same. Fragile minds do not respond well to lycanthropy. I hope you don’t mind the description—it is not your character or personal strength that I’m commenting on.”
Renee laughed humourlessly. “You mean crazy people don’t make good werewolves.”
“More like those who are already sensitive to the world around them become too good at being a werewolf, but not very good at living in the world with those who aren’t.”
“Ah. Murder and mayhem,” Renee said.
“You witnessed the effects yourself, you know,” Kelly said.
“You mean Grant,” Renee said, stilling the hand that pet Baron’s head.
“He had greatly improved by the time he reached us,” Kelly replied. “After he turned, though, and for years after, he was unable to be among humans without killing them.”
Renee was quiet for a long time, still shut off from Kelly’s ability to tell what she was thinking without effort. Part of it was a lack of eye contact that Renee always had, which didn’t bother Kelly.
“But Grant didn’t want to stop,” Kelly said. “He settled down with age, if you can believe it, but that doesn’t mean he ever lost the taste for what he had done during his early years. It tasted too good for him in comparison to what his life had been before.”
“Did he tell you this or do you just know?” Renee asked.
“He never talked about his life before the transformation,” Kelly said. “I learned it on my own when he was with me.”
“And that’s what I would have become,” Renee said.
“Eventually. Britt would have taken to it better than you. She would have continued to be your anchor for a while, but she wouldn’t have been nearly as effective when you were a werewolf. And as you tasted freedom mixed with the thrill of the hunt, of human blood, and getting away with it, you would have changed. You’d have revelled in being what the world fears instead of being afraid of the world. Britt would have no longer been able to pull you back. You would have gone off with Grant alone on your own private rampage with him, never part of pack again. Packs can only take so much of werewolves like that. They lead authorities to the running grounds. Most werewolves don’t mind killing humans, but they are fiercely protective of the secret of their existence.”
Renee nodded. It was the same concern that her shapeshifters had. Many of them never showed their faces when outsiders visited to look at the dogs or when the vets arrived to do exams or shots.
“That is what you saved yourself from. That is what you killed him for, so you could still have this. So you could protect your pack,” Kelly said. “So there wouldn’t be any more sacrifices.”
Renee leant forward to pick up the Jack Daniel’s bottle again, but she stopped herself. She could try to drown her sorrows all she wanted, but it was never going to work. Kelly wished that Renee could have the temporary respite that Kelly had, regardless of the morning’s consequences.
“What makes you killing David to protect me was worse than what I did, then?” she asked.
“You forget I killed before him,” Kelly replied softly. “And that was murder. I’m not proud of it, but I don’t run away from it anymore. It’s what I did. It’s not something I do anymore. But David was also different because it wasn’t just for you.”
“Did you love him?”
“Sometimes,” Kelly said, looking down at her white-stained hands.
“Grant didn’t love me,” Renee said, almost too quietly for someone with human hearing to understand. “But I loved him sometimes. Or maybe I loved what he made me.”
“He loved you as much as he was capable of it,” Kelly said. She tentatively reached over and took Renee’s hand in hers, interlocking their fingers. “David didn’t love me. I was
too abstract for him to love, but he loved having me. There is a difference.”
“Is it wrong to love what Grant made me, knowing what I would’ve eventually become?” Renee asked.
“Knowing what I have become, I still can’t hate David for turning me,” Kelly said. “I know what you want to escape from, believe me. But I don’t think you want to go as far as me in order to escape it.”
Renee laid her head against the back of the sofa, closing her eyes. “I’ll never really know whether it was the right decision. A person can only walk one path at a time. It’s hard to regret the path once you’re walking on it, because it’s made you who you are.”
“Have you talked with Britt about this?” Kelly asked. “Does she know how philosophical you get when you’re depressed?”
“Depressed?” Renee asked, opening her eyes.
“What do you call it?”
Renee thought about it. “Contemplative. This is what goes on in my head all the time, you know.”
“Then why are you sharing it with me and not the woman you love?”
“Because Britt’s never killed someone. She doesn’t understand why I’m upset about it.”
“Have you talked about it with her?”
“No. But she can’t understand,” Renee said. “For her, the trouble’s over. She and Jake have tried to fill some of the gaps, and I’m not as panicked as I used to be, but my brain is still… I have nightmares.”
“The nightmares are normal,” Kelly said.
“Not the reason for them.”
“No,” Kelly agreed. “But you did what was right.” She pressed a kiss to Renee’s forehead. “You don’t have to get over it in a few months or even a few years. It wasn’t easy, and it won’t be easy. But I want you to look at the dog in your lap and realise he is here because you saved him. And I want you to go back to the house and go up those stairs and climb in bed with Britt and Jake and lose yourself in them, because they love you and you saved them, too.
“If your nightmares return, I have a potion for that, but I would rather you tell Britt about it. At the very least, she could simply listen. She watched you kill him. She knows what you gave up to save her. She’ll listen if that’s what you need. Okay? You can always talk to me, of course, but I don’t want you to exclude her from something that’s bothering you this much.”
Renee grabbed the whisky bottle, and Kelly helped Renee stand then walked with her to the barn door. Renee stopped in front of the giant face and wrapped her arms around Kelly’s waist.
“I hope you’re okay,” Renee whispered. “Do you need some paint thinner?”
“I can take care of it,” Kelly replied. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
As soon as the barn door had closed, Kelly turned her eyes away from it and went to the garden sink to wash the paint off her skin. She unashamedly used magic to help strip it away. Her dress was probably ruined, since the same magic could sometimes strip colour dye away from fabric as well.
When she turned around, Baron was standing between her and the sofa, alert but not aggressive. Curious, Kelly inched towards him with her hand out. Baron’s nostrils flared and he sneezed, but although his tail drooped a little, he didn’t back away or growl. When she got close enough, he sniffed her hand, his nose cold and wet. Then his expressive eyebrows cocked, and Kelly slowly ran her hand over his neck and up onto his head. As she scratched his head, Kelly stared at her hand wonderingly.
It was amazing what a dog would do when its alpha trusted her.
* * * *
Although she had been unconscious for several hours, she was actually tired by the time she made it to her trailer. When Malcolm stepped out from behind it, she was fully prepared to tell him that she just wanted to go to sleep. Surely he could run on his own.
But he smelt of the forest. He had already been running.
“What—?” Kelly began.
Malcolm took her hands in his, his hands swallowing hers as he leant down and pressed his lips against hers. As slow and gentle as his kiss, he pushed her up against the trailer. His erection was an insistent bulge confined in his jeans, yet his actions were anything but urgent. His body seared her with the most delicious kind of heat.
When he broke the unhurried kiss, Kelly followed his lips.
He smiled then pulled her closer against his strong, lean body. He used his height to his advantage, standing straight so that she could not reach him. Kelly was dizzy with the kiss. His taste mingled with the whisky that still hazed her head and coated her tongue.
“What are you doing?” she asked, surprised by the tremble in her voice.
Malcolm put one finger on her lips. “Shhh. I just want to know if I still can.”
He reached behind her and opened the door to her trailer then lifted her up so that they did not have to separate. As soon as they had made it in, Malcolm captured her mouth again, sliding his tongue deliciously over hers. She expected him to bite sharp teeth on her lip, but he didn’t.
He smoothed his maddening hands over her back and thighs through the fabric of her dress. The fact that Malcolm could not stand up straight in the short-ceilinged trailer served as an excellent pretext to bend her over his arms, to take control of the kiss but not dominate. Kelly’s legs grew weaker the deeper he kissed her, but beyond the pleasured mists in her mind was deep-seated confusion she could not articulate.
Butch Cassidy yowled for attention on the kitchen counter. Kelly automatically held a hand out for him to rub his cheek over her fingers. Malcolm tried not to laugh. He relinquished her mouth to look around for Butch Cassidy’s food container. He poured a little into the empty bowl. Butch Cassidy gave the interloper a glare, but he accepted Malcolm’s gift with a flip of his mostly lame tail—limp from an early injury.
“Where were we?” Malcolm murmured against her cheek.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Kelly said.
“I may be wrong, but I think we were headed to bed,” Malcolm said. He kissed her chastely on the lips before moving less chastely down to her neck.
As his hot, wet mouth did the most sinful things to her neck from ear to collarbone, he unbuttoned the front of her dress. He made quick work of each small, pearly button with surprisingly deft fingers. Again, Kelly kept waiting for the teeth, to feel his canines rake across her flesh and spike the simmering excitement in her blood, but although he bit at her, they were nothing more than nips.
Once he had unbuttoned the dress past her waist, he pushed the sleeves down over her shoulders and let gravity do the rest. Kelly had to let go of him to shed the dress in favour of skin, the long length of pale, inked limbs. The moonlight came in through her bedroom window and illuminated the rumpled bed.
She tingled all over. As soon as she could, she tangled her fingers in his black hair, raked her nails over his back, but he pulled that hand off.
“I don’t understand,” Kelly said, another quaver in her voice. She realised that she was near tears, though she didn’t know why.
“This is how I made love,” Malcolm murmured, twining their fingers and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the black ink on her sternum. “When I needed it, this was what I did. I need to know if I still can.”
“But why don’t you—?” Kelly began.
“Just relax, Kelly,” Malcolm said. He flicked the tip of his tongue over her nipple, catching slightly on the bar piercing through it. “Just relax and let me try. Let me take care of you.”
Kelly’s eyebrows drew together, but she combed her free hand through his hair down to the back of his neck and bit her lip, nodding.
He guided her down onto the edge of the bed. As he knelt at her feet, he traced his tongue down the inked filigree on her sternum then returned to her breast, engulfing the small, pert nipple between his soft lips and circling it with his tongue. He hummed. The bar caught the vibration and multiplied it. Whatever nerve connection went from her pierced nipples to her clit practically zinged with pleasure, leaving her gasp
ing.
Her arousal dripped hot down her spine as he ran his hands over her thighs, his thumbs rubbing over the sensitive inner flesh but never quite touching her where she ached. She spread her legs to give him better access, yet he kept his strokes to her legs and the sensitive crease where her legs met her hips.
He mouthed a hot line from one nipple to the other, lavishing it with as much attention as the first, which had tightened sweetly under his ministrations and glistened from his saliva. He stroked up her spine as he wrapped his other hand possessively around the back of her thigh. His fingers brushed her labia, where she was already wet for him. He groaned, pressing his mouth against the heavy underside of her breast.
As he moved to inhale the musk emanating from her, Kelly thought that she would finally have the infuriating hum all over her body satisfied, that he would give in to his hunger and throw her on the bed and fuck her until she screamed. But all she felt was the swirl of cold air from his breathing and the tightening of his hand around her thigh as he reacted to her scent.
His grip on her thigh slowly loosened, and he stood up. His eyes went practically white with desire and moonlight as he undid his jeans and pushed them down his legs. His erection was beautiful, deeply flushed and so very hard, but Kelly didn’t look away from those bright eyes. She ran her thumb over the head, spreading pre-cum as she slid her hand down the shaft. The strong pulse of his heart beat through the thick vein on the underside.
She started to lean down to run her tongue over that pulse, but Malcolm gently disengaged her grip from him and pulled her closed hand to his chest instead.
“Malcolm,” she whispered.
Cry Wolf Page 8
