by D. M. Turner
He sighed. “Seems like it’d be easier for you and me to figure it out on our own. I don’t particularly want to tick off an experienced wolf at this point in my life. I doubt wolves are into slow torture.”
Another soft, warm chuckle filled the room. “Not generally. We usually think more along the lines of quick kill.”
“Exactly my point.” Max yawned.
“I doubt Brady and Graham would harm you. In fact, I think they’d like you. I just have to make sure they don’t steal you for their pack.”
“Why would they do that?”
“You aren’t a trouble-maker or rabble-rouser, for one. For another, you can handle yourself in a fight.”
“As a marine, yes, but as a wolf? I haven’t been tested yet, and I’d prefer not to be anytime soon.”
“It’ll come in due time.” Dakota grimaced. “Unfortunately, it seems like most wolves are nasty buggers in some way or another. Let’s pray we’ve got a long while without you being put to the test.” He yawned. “For now, sleep is in order.”
“Yeah. Ma will have us up bright and early for breakfast.”
“If she always cooks like she did today, I’ll hop to.” Dakota grinned then rolled onto his back.
Max chuckled. “Goodnight, ace.”
“Goodnight, my friend.”
Chapter 13
Monday, February 25, 1952
NO! I can’t be back here! Max tried to move, to escape the dark, damp hole, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Agony racked his limbs and ribs. It hurt to breathe, even if he wanted to take a deep breath. The pungent aroma of gangrene and rot had sharpened since the last time awareness had broken through hallucinations and dreams. Dakota... the cabin... Ma, Pa, and Maggie... none of it had been real.
“No!”
A sound broke through the stillness, and he froze, listening. In no more than a second or two, a bright light blinded him. They were coming for him again. Would they ask questions or just beat on him without uttering a word? They’d done both more times than he could count.
Everything in him wanted to pull away and seek refuge, but there was nowhere to go. No way to escape.
Hands grabbed his shoulders.
He tried to wiggle free, but weakness left him unable to fight. Vulnerable. Helpless. “No!”
“Max, wake up! You’re dreaming. It’s okay. You’re safe.” The gentle voice was familiar. “It’s a dream. That’s all.”
He opened his eyes. Light from the lamp on the nightstand between the two beds cast shadows on Dakota’s face, but it was definitely him.
Pain danced along all of Max’s nerve endings. The wolf clawed toward the surface, enraged and snarling. Reassurance battled with new fear. The creature would protect him, but at what cost?
“Calm down. You have to suppress the wolf.” Dakota shot a worried look at the closed bedroom door.
“I can’t.” He panted and fought to restrain the animal.
“Yes, you can.” He took a deep breath and visibly relaxed his shoulders, lowering his voice further. “Think about something pleasant or whatever it takes to let go of the fear and slow your breathing. The wolf will settle.”
The relaxed, modulated words washed over Max. He focused on his friend and forced his lungs to inhale then exhale, getting slower with each breath. Safe. I’m safe. No dark, damp root cellar. No freezing cold. No beatings. No starvation. No injuries or infection. Truly safe.
The wolf growled but stopped fighting, retreating to rest.
A soft knock on the door preceded it opening. Pa poked his head into the room with a worried frown then entered and closed the door. “You alright, son?”
“Yes, sir.” Max grimaced, horrified that he’d wakened his father. “Did I disturb Ma, too?”
“No, she’s still sound asleep, so’s Maggie.”
That was a relief. “Sorry I woke you.”
Pa shook his head and crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “You having night terrors about the war?”
Shame riddled him, and Max averted his gaze. “Yes, sir.”
“Understandable after what you endured.” Hands lowered to his sides, Pa sat on the edge of Max’s bed and rested his elbows on his knees. “Had problems with that myself after I returned from the war in 1918.”
Max stilled. “You did?” He’d never known that. How had his parents managed to hide it for so many years? All of his life, in fact.
Pa nodded. “Still do sometimes.” A soft, sad smiled curved his mouth, and his dark gaze met his son’s. “Your ma has had quite a row to hoe, staying married to me over the years. Sometimes I’ve struck out at her in my sleep, thinking I was fighting the enemy.”
Horror sliced Max’s heart. Could he hurt someone without intending to or realizing it until it was too late?
“When things have gotten that bad, I’ve slept at the sawmill.”
“I remember you doing that sometimes. I always thought you two had fought and needed time apart.”
Pa shook his head. “I did it to protect her. I’ve hated myself for hurting her and done my best over the years to keep her safe. She’s loved me despite it all and stuck like a burr.” He grinned slightly.
Max chuckled. “I guess we know where my stubbornness comes from, huh?” Humor faded, and he lowered his gaze. “I was medically discharged from the service, Pa.” Though he no longer had the physical wounds he’d been discharged with, he couldn’t imagine being able to continue serving in the military if the nightmares could make him dangerous to those around him. What if he’d shot or stabbed one of his fellow marines or some innocent bystander?
The man nodded and laid a hand on Max’s arm. “There’s no shame in that, son. Many of us old warriors carry battle scars no one can see, and you have more reason than some for yours.”
Some odd tightness deep inside that Max had been trying to ignore for weeks released, bringing relief. He met his father’s gaze and smiled.
Pa glanced at Dakota. “You’ve been helping him with all of this.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m glad to do it, sir. Max is worth every bit of time and energy I can give him.” Dakota’s smile when he met Max’s gaze was full of sincerity.
Max’s chest tightened.
Pa smiled and quirked a brow at Max. “That’s true friendship there, son. I hope and pray you understand how rare it is and appreciate it.”
He nodded. “Absolutely.” Max took a slow, deep breath. “Pa, what if I hurt one of you?”
Dakota shook his head.
Pa laid a hand on the man’s shoulder then turned to Max. “I’ll talk to Maggie and your ma, make sure they know to stay away from this room at night.”
He grimaced. “They shouldn’t have to be afraid of me or feel fear in their own home.”
“It’s not about fear, son. It’s about concern for you and your needs and doing what we can to help you through this. We’ll do whatever we can. Avoiding a single bedroom in the night isn’t asking much.”
The last thing he’d wanted was to be a burden on his family. Max glanced at Dakota, who cocked his head. “Maybe us being here isn’t the best idea. What if I hurt one of them?”
“I won’t let that happen.” Dakota smiled slightly. “You know I can protect them.”
“I know.” Max sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you either, ace.”
A grin appeared. “Hey, no worries, buddy. I can take it.” He shrugged then raised a brow. “What else are you gonna do? Hide in the woods for the rest of your life?”
Max smiled. “Okay, okay, I can’t exactly hide forever.”
Pa nodded with a pleased smile. “Very true. Now, why don’t you two get back to sleep? Be sure to keep the door closed at night. I’ll talk to your ma and sister in the morning, make sure they stay out of the room if you awaken them in the night.”
“Thanks.” If only he found that as reassuring as it should be. If he had been merely an emotionally wou
nded veteran (which was bad enough), maybe it would be comforting, but he had a serious complication his pa knew nothing about—werewolf—and he had no idea yet what that meant. Would he have control of its actions if the animal broke free?
His father left the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Sunrise wasn’t far off, and neither was the rising of the new moon.
Max settled into bed, as did Dakota, but sleep wouldn’t come. What if he had that nightmare again? Once had been harsh enough. Twice in one night... too much. So he stared at the ceiling until light framed the curtains over the window between the two beds.
As the moon headed for the western horizon, darkness crept through his insides like enemy soldiers through the jungle under the cover of night. Only it didn’t stop or try to hide when he looked right at it.
Its face peered over the horizon. You can’t hide from me, it whispered.
“Whatever the moon says, ignore it. Trust me on that.”
He glanced at Dakota, who had sat up on the other bed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. His friend got to his feet and stretched then turned an expectant smile on Max.
“Hop to, marine. After we eat, you can show me the town.”
Max sighed and nodded.
* * *
The farther they got from the house, the more uneasy Max felt, and the more the wolf stirred. The dreary gray sky and cold day had nothing to do with it. He’d often been tense walking through town before leaving for the Marines, but based on the hostile, scathing looks he and Dakota received, tensions were higher than they’d been even then. If Dakota noticed, he neither said anything nor acted uncomfortable.
“Hey, look, it’s Glute.”
Max flinched at the hated nickname and suppressed a growl. Stay calm. It’s not worth doing something stupid over. He halted and slowly turned to face far-too-familiar tormenters.
His friend turned with him, straightening his shoulders.
The white man a couple of years older than Max’s own twenty-one years who approached had sky blue eyes containing none of the joy of a sunny day. Hate had a habit of dampening anything positive that might otherwise manifest on a man’s face. Two other men flanked him. Long-time friends. Allies in bullying others. None of them had served in the military. All three had avoided it actually.
Despite their bravado and the scent of hatred emanating from them, all three smelled... like prey. Like a stag Dakota and Max had cornered the week prior on a hunt. It had threatened, snorted, and stamped its hooves, giving the illusion of power it didn’t have. It had died under their fangs and claws.
“Gerald.” Max nodded, keeping his eyes locked on the other man’s in a way he never would have before. The wolf inside snarled, but he kept it off his face.
The man smirked. “What? You think because you were a marine you’re good enough to look me in the eye now?” His gaze shifted to one side just enough to break eye contact, confirming his weakness.
Max didn’t budge or bother to respond, gaining courage from Dakota’s presence and the scent of his rising anger.
Lucas, the cohort on Gerald’s left, snorted and playfully nudged his friend’s shoulder with his. “I think you’re right. He’s gotten uppity. Thinks he’s too good to speak to you now, even when asked a direct question.”
“Yeah,” Toby boasted from Gerald’s right with a malicious grin.
Dakota sighed, emitting a soft growl. He glanced at Max. “Have these three always been such knuckleheads?”
Suppressing a faint smile, Max nodded. “’Fraid so.”
Gerald’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze shifted to Dakota. “Who do you think you are?”
“A decent human being.” Dakota’s lips quirked in a slight grin, and he snorted. “A concept I doubt any of you would understand in the slightest.” After no more than a moment, his gaze forced Gerald’s away.
Instead of backing down, which would be the intelligent thing to do (at least in Max’s opinion), Gerald glanced to one side at Lucas then the other at his other friend Toby. All three faced Max and Dakota, lifted their chins, and squared their shoulders.
Dread crawled through Max at the same time the wolf growled in satisfaction at the clearly pending fight. If there was a fight, would he be able to stop himself from killing one of them? If he’d been human, he wouldn’t be concerned about things getting out of hand. As a marine, he knew how to fight, with and without killing someone. The wolf wanted blood though, so it might exacerbate matters.
Dakota took a step forward, his gaze still on Gerald. “If you value your life, you’ll back down now and walk away. I have no qualms about beating all three of you into bloody pulps. Neither does Max. We’ve both killed, in numbers, and won’t lose a moment’s sleep over hurting the likes of you.”
Max forced his gaze to remain on the enemy despite the desire to turn his attention to the man in front of and to one side of him.
The full force of something powerful rolled off Dakota, directed at the three men in front of him.
All of them took a step back in unison, though Max wasn’t sure they were aware of it.
“Now, turn around and go about your business before things get unnecessarily ugly.” His voice growling in a way it hadn’t before, Dakota closed the distance between them in a slow step.
Max could see nothing of him but his back.
All three men paled, their gazes fixed on the man directly in front of them.
Lucas and Toby lowered their gazes, and their shoulders softened in defeat they probably didn’t even recognize. The former put a hand on Gerald’s shoulder. “Come on, bud. Leave the worthless darky to his new master.”
Max snarled softly, breathing as slow as he could to restrain the rising wolf. Middle of the day. City street. Not the time or place to let the wolf out.
Dakota shoved Gerald into Toby hard enough to send both men sprawling on the pavement and smashed Lucas right in the face with his fist. Blood poured from the man’s nose as he fell on top of the other two. His assailant stood over them and pointed at Lucas. “Watch your mouth. You will respect a man who fought for this country, no matter what his skin color may be. The next man you mouth off to just might slit your throat.”
“He’s got that right, boys.”
Max flipped on his heel to face the elderly white man who had come up behind them undetected. He relaxed marginally at the smile on Mr. Terrell’s face. He’d known the man all of his life. He owned the mercantile where Max and his family had shopped for years.
Mr. Terrell looked down at the three men and shook his head. “You boys should be ashamed of yourselves.”
The men in question scrambled to their feet less than gracefully, Lucas smearing blood across his face by swiping it with a sleeve of his shirt. Lucas and Toby kept their gazes on the ground, but Gerald frowned at the old man, who shook his head.
“Treating one of our brave fighting men in such atrocious fashion. Your warrior great-grandfathers must be rolling in their graves in mortification, and I can only imagine what your fathers and grandfathers would think.”
Toby flinched visibly and lowered his gaze.
“Now, off with you.” Mr. Terrell flicked a hand in a shooing manner, the way Max had often seen his mother do with him and other children. “Stop shaming yourselves with such unpatriotic, juvenile behavior.”
Gerald glared at Max then turned and followed his friends in the opposite direction at a rapid clip.
Max waited until they were out of sight to heave a relieved sigh and turned to the elderly man. The wolf settled, remaining watchful but relaxed. “Thank you, Mr. Terrell.”
The old man laid a hand on Max’s shoulder. “You’re very welcome, young man. By fighting for freedom, you’ve earned the respect of every American.” He grinned and nodded once in the direction Gerald and his friends had gone. “Even if they’re not bright enough to realize it.”
He smiled and motioned to the man at his side. “Mr. Terrell, this is my friend Dakota Gentry.�
�
“Ah, yes.” The elderly man offered his hand to Dakota. “Maggie was in the store earlier picking up something for Max’s mother. She told me all about you, Mr. Gentry. It’s an honor and a pleasure to meet a man brave enough to reclaim a wounded ally from enemy forces.”
Dakota smiled a bit self-consciously and shook the man’s hand. “Always nice to meet another decent human being.”
“How would you boys like a cup of coffee?”
Max nodded and grinned. “Sounds great.”
Chapter 14
DARK, damp cold surrounded him. Max groaned. No!
Light burst into the blackness with blinding intensity. He squinted and turned his head away slightly, trying to see what was coming. A silhouette slowly formed into the shape of a human man.
Dakota?
A booted foot slammed into his ribs, stealing what little breath he had.
The wolf lunged forward, breaking free. In moments, the man who’d kicked him lay under Max’s lupine form in a spreading pool of blood. Light danced across familiar features. Gerald.
Max stepped back in horror, the taste of the man’s blood still on his tongue.
Agony ripped through every muscle, bone, and organ in Max’s body. He sat up in bed, gasping for breath and fighting to contain a wolf determined to get out and quench a need for the enemy’s blood.
“Max?” Dakota leaned over him and gripped his shoulder, sending knives over sensitized skin.
He wrenched free, unable to take another assault.
His friend shot a worried look over his shoulder then went to lean against a door and turned his gaze back on Max. “Max, you need to calm down.”
Max shook his head, unable to do more than grunt and growl as the wolf broke free. He’d killed Gerald. Mistaken him for the enemy always lurking in his dreams.
By the time agony eased to pain and then to a dull ache, he lay on his side in wolf form. He panted and slowly took in his surroundings. No root cellar. His old bedroom. Only him and Dakota. No Gerald. No blood pooling on the floor from the man’s torn flesh. Relief filled him.
He hadn’t killed Gerald. He closed his eyes and let that knowledge sink all the way to his bones.