by Riley Storm
“Ready?” Lucien asked, casually taking her hand.
“Yes,” she agreed, biting her lip, and wondering just what was going to happen when the two of them got back to the safehouse.
Alone.
22
The hunger lunged up the instant the door closed behind them, manifesting itself in a wordless growl as Lucien ran his eyes over her figure, obscured as it may be by the baggy and still-damp sweats that she was wearing on top and bottom. The clothing wasn’t anyone’s idea of flattering, but Lucien didn’t care. He was ready to rip the threads from her to get at the soft, lovely body beneath. There was just so much of Alison that he hadn’t explored, and he couldn’t wait.
She must have picked up on his intentions, because her eyes were wide and round as she turned back to look at him, mouth open in that tiniest of circles that acted like a beacon. Knowing that she was feeling the intensity of the moment as well drove him to new heights.
They hadn’t said much on the journey back to the safehouse, both quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Lucien wasn’t sure what Alison had been thinking, but his mind had been constantly drawn back to the actions of the afternoon.
Allowing Alison anywhere even remotely close to being in harm’s way had been harder than he could ever have imagined. Every time a new detail of her end of the plan came up, he had to clamp down violently on his desire to order her to stay here, to wait in the safehouse for his return.
Even if a part of him knew, on some level, that they couldn’t accomplish the plan without her, it didn’t mean he had to like it. Or even accept it. She was his mate, though he hadn’t told her that yet, and to expose her to danger was the antithesis of everything he’d ever been told growing up.
Of course, Alison was her own woman. He didn’t control her, and Lucien was more than well aware of that. He wasn’t trying to control her. Nor own her. Claim her, perhaps, but that was different, a partnership of two halves forming a whole. Neither outranking the other.
The cold hard fact of the matter, however, was that he was a shifter. Stronger, faster, tougher. She was a human. Comparatively, she was frail, and he should protect her. Not to mention, on top of that, this was not her fight. This was his problem. A shifter problem, and Lucien didn’t want to drag a human, let alone a human he cared for deeply, into the midst of it. She was too liable to get hurt.
Now she was safe, and he wanted nothing more than to bask in the relief that they’d made it through unharmed, their mission a success. Far more difficult and dangerous paths lay ahead of them, but for now, he could take a second and simply enjoy the connection forming between them.
“Lucien…” she said, trailing off as he stepped closer, his frame dwarfing hers.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered, reaching out to drag a finger along her shoulder. “I wish you weren’t involved in this, but we couldn’t have done it without you.”
She smiled, blushing slightly at the compliment. “You’re welcome.”
He grinned. She just got him. “Can I show you any sort of gratitude?” he rumbled, running a hand through her hair, pushing the black mane behind her ear for the moment, knowing full well it would break free at any time it chose.
“Like a foot rub?” she teased, fingernails running down his chest.
“That’s not quite—” Lucien’s protest was cut short as Alison twisted up his sweatshirt in her grip and pulled him in close, kissing him hard, washing away the surprise.
“I know it’s not what you meant,” she said when they parted for air.
Then to his surprise, she straightened and went serious.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking around for threats.
“It’s not that I don’t want to…to…explore things with you,” Alison said, face screwing up in a sort of apologetic look. “I do. You’re a good man, as far as I can tell. You have good intentions, you mean well. You seem to want to treat me well. Plus you’re a great kisser and insanely hot. All of which should add up to me wanting to jump you.”
“But.”
Alison sighed. “But, Lucien, that’s basically all I know about you. Apparently you’re rich, too, which I didn’t know until you randomly mentioned money wasn’t a factor when we discussed bribing the garbage men. Then there’s your friends. The weirdness…no, not weirdness,” she corrected, “the oddity, about all of you.”
Lucien’s stomach was quickly knotting around itself, a snake squeezing the life out of it.
“The problem is, Lucien, there is more I don’t know about you, than there is that I do. You have secrets. Your secrets have secrets, and I…I can’t open up to you and let you in, when I don’t know anything about you. I want to…but not until you’re ready. I’ve only ever done this once, and it was horrible. I know with all the apps and stuff today that sex has lost a lot of its meaning, but not to me, Lucien.” She looked up at him, that same golden light in her eyes that he’d seen before. “If I’m going to trust you, Lucien, you need to trust me. I think I’ve earned it.”
Lucien nodded, slowly at first as he fought down his disappointment and the hormones raging through him, hormones that had distinctly different views of how things should be proceeding just then. Now was the time to think with his brain, not another head.
“There’s more than just my secrets holding you back, isn’t there?” he asked.
Alison looked down, avoiding his gaze, then nodded. “Yes,” she said in a whisper.
“Will you ever tell me?” he asked gently, wondering if he would ever be let in there, to that part of her soul.
Her head came back up, a wry look upon it. “I could ask you the same,” she said. “There’s something between you and the others at the warehouse. Something shared. I don’t know what, but it’s deep, I think deeper than I could ever truly understand, even if you told me. Am I right?”
Lucien nodded. “Yes.”
She looked sad. “That’s what I thought.”
Closing his eyes, Lucien wrestled with the problem, trying to come to a decision. The issue was, it wasn’t his place to tell everyone’s secrets. And yet…she had broken the law and helped him rescue two of his comrades. That took not just guts, but trust.
“Why is this so difficult for you to share?” she asked, stepping closer again, resting a hand on his chest. “Help me understand that at least?”
“That part’s easy,” he said, smiling at her. “It’s not just my secret, like I said. If I share, then you know all of their secret as well. How can I make that decision for them? Not to mention it’s…let’s just say I have my doubts about your reaction.”
Alison looked up sharply. “What does that mean?”
“It means I wouldn’t be surprised if you went running for the hills, at which point I’d be forced to stop you and intervene.”
She bit her lip thoughtfully, interpreting his words. “You can’t let this get out, can you?”
“No,” he said, his voice a whisper. “We will go to any lengths to stop it.” Lucien didn’t repeat the word any, but it was obvious in the way he’d said it. Alison understood the gravity, the threat behind it.
“I still want to know,” she said at last. “I’m in deep now, and honestly, I don’t intend on going anywhere, Lucien. So you may as well bring me into this fully.”
Lucien sighed, thinking it over one last time before coming to a decision, and throwing caution to the wind. “You know what, you’re right. You’ve done plenty on nothing but the trust you’ve placed in me. It’s about time I extended that to you.”
Alison visibly sagged in relief, shoulders drooping. “Thank you,” she said.
Lucien shook his head. “Don’t thank me until after you’ve seen it.”
Her eyes opened. “Seen?”
“Put Bergey in the bedroom please,” he asked, motioning to the nearby dog who was sitting watching the conversation.
“What?” Alison was confused now. “Why?”
“Umm, just know that it’s for the bes
t, okay?”
“Okayyy,” she said, drawing the word out, but doing as he asked and closing Bergey in the bedroom. The dog whined once or twice, but then calmed and, a moment later, jumped on the bed by the sound of it.
“Now, I need you to stay calm,” he said, moving to the kitchen. “Don’t panic when it happens.”
Alison eyed him carefully, moving to sit on the back of the couch so she could look at him straight on. “Right. Um. When what happens?” she asked, abruptly taking two steps closer to him in concern.
Lucien raised a hand, stalling her progress.
“This.”
23
At first, nothing did seem to happen. She watched, about ready to drop a sarcastic comment about promising things he couldn’t deliver on, when his clothes suddenly began to shrink.
No, that wasn’t right. The clothes weren’t shrinking. Lucien was growing. A moment later, black fur exploded out from the collar and wrists. There was barely time for Alison to process that before the clothes couldn’t contain his growing bulk any longer and with a great tearing sound, shredded themselves down their seams and across his chest.
There was a sickly cracking of bones followed by several jerky movements as Lucien fell forward, dropping onto all fours. His hands stretched and then huge claws surged out from his fingertips, palms becoming paws, and every square inch covered in thick black fur.
Fur. Animal fur. Which made perfect sense, because it wasn’t Lucien in front of her any longer. It was a fucking wolf. Alison’s mouth moved up and down, but no sound came out. Watching the last of Lucien disappear as his face abruptly elongated and his human features disappeared into a massive muscle, she finally reacted.
“What the fuck!” she yelped, screaming and backpedalling furiously.
The back of the couch was suddenly there, and Alison went toppling over it, bouncing off the cushion and flopping onto the floor in a pile of uncoordinated limbs and body. Laying still, she waited for the giant creature to clear the couch and attack her. She clasped her hands over her neck like she’d heard about in some nature documentary or another and kept her face down, hoping it would be quick.
No attack came. In fact, the only sound she could hear was Bergey whining behind the door, a rather weak, mewling noise. Not at all like her dog, though a sound similar to the one he’d made when the man had growled at him.
It was then she realized that there was another sound. A thump—thump—thump. It was rhythmic, a back and forth sort of noise. Slowly, eyes little more than slits, she eased herself from the ground, looking around to ensure the beast wasn’t waiting to attack from somewhere nearby.
“L-L-Lucien?” she called, needing three tries to get the word out, she was shaking so bad.
The thump intensified. What the hell was it? Closing her eyes completely, Alison whispered a silent prayer that she wasn’t making a fatal mistake, and climbed up onto the couch in a ball. Slowly, she lifted her head, until just her eyes were visible over the top.
“Eep!” Dropping her head as fast as she could, she tried to contain her reaction.
The giant furred beast—it looked like a wolf, just…much much bigger than any she’d ever seen in a zoo—was just sitting there in the living room, mouth open. The thump noise she’d heard was its tail wagging back and forth.
There was still no snarl and flash of jaws that would signal the end of her life, and after an eternity, Alison decided she could wait no longer. The thing would catch her before she reached the door, and if it meant her harm, there had already been ample time to kill her. Something didn’t add up here.
Hands on the back of the couch, she slowly peeked up and over a second time. Once again, the beast was just sitting there; she doubted it had even moved. Big yellow eyes watched her carefully, while a big pink tongue lolled out the side of its mouth. Behind it, a big bushy tail bounced back and forth. Thump-thump-thump.
“Lucien, this isn’t funny anymore!’ she called. “You can come out now, please. I’m scared.” She didn’t know why he’d chosen now of all times to reveal that he was a magician, but she intended to have a very stern chat with him about what “the right time” meant, and how it most certainly was not now!
The wolf moved slowly into a lying down position while she watched, rolling onto its back, tongue still out, a goofy look on its face.
“Your mutant dog thing wants me to scratch its stomach,” she called out to the house. “But if you think I’m that stupid, then I’ve got news for you. Now come out and explain!” she called, growing irritated. The prank was going on too long, and any humor that might have been found was vanishing rapidly.
The wolf sighed and sat back up. Alison blinked at that. A wolf should not be able to replicate a human sound that well.
“Lucien!” she called sharply.
The wolf lay back down, but didn’t roll over. The yellow eyes stayed fixated on her. After a time it sat back up.
Alison couldn’t wrench her eyes away from it. Now that she wasn’t entirely terrified of winding up in the belly of the beast, she started to admire the beauty of it. Its size, the sleekness of its coat, and the depths of its eyes, far more yellow than gold, yet focused and…and…intelligent?
“Lucien,” she repeated.
The wolf lay back down. It only paused for ten seconds or so, then sat back up.
“Lucien.” It lay down.
“Are you trained to lie down when someone says Lucien?” she asked the air.
The wolf shook its head.
Alison reared back in surprise, then moved in closer to the edge of the couch. “Can you understand me?” she asked.
The huge head moved up and down in a near-perfect imitation of a human-style nod.
“Where’s Lucien?” she asked.
The wolf sighed heavily and lay down. Then one giant paw tapped the floor. One. Twice. Then again.
“I don’t understand.”
Looking around, the wolf pawed at the tattered remnants of the sweatpants on the floor nearby, picking it up in its jaws before sitting down. Where it gently arranged the material on one of its hind legs.
Alison gasped, clapping a hand over her head. “No,” she said, in denial. “That was a magic trick. He’s somewhere in the house, hiding from me. I don’t believe this. You’re just a well-trained dog.”
The wolf growled, pulling back its lips.
“Uh. Okay. Sorry?” she apologized, holding up both hands as a fresh spike of terror lanced through her. “Not a dog.”
The wolf made a weird noise as it expelled air, tilting its head and letting the tongue fall out.
“Let me get this straight. You’re trying to tell me that you’re Lucien.”
The head moved up and down.
“Right. That’s a load of bullshit.” She looked around the room. “Lucien, get your ass out here right now. I’m done playing, this isn’t funny, and I’m ready to leave. I was trying to be serious with you. I didn’t want games,” she snapped, getting off the couch and going to look in the kitchen.
The wolf trotted over to her, slamming its flank into her side. Alison lost her balance and fell back into one of the chairs in the kitchen table. The height change left her looking the wolf in the eye.
Or the teeth. I’m at perfect bite level.
Then the creature shivered, and Alison watched, transfixed, as the change reversed itself. A handful of seconds later, the last of the black fur disappeared, and the only thing in front of her was Lucien. He was down on one knee, fist resting on the ground.
“Do you believe me now?” he asked.
Alison looked him over. “You’re naked.”
Lucien sighed. “Not the words I’d hoped to hear, but yes, I am, that’s correct. The change destroys any clothing. I…figured that we didn’t exactly care about those garbage-stained clothes.”
“Right. Of course not. Wasn’t planning on keeping them,” she said in a distracted voice, staring at the naked figure of a man sculpted from marble. His body was
perfect. Almost too perfect. The only thing missing was a bit of steam coming off his skin.
“You can accept this,” he said, looking up at her, careful to keep his leg and arm positioned to block her view. “I know you can. You weren’t imagining it, Alison. That was real.”
“Do it again,” she said, not entirely sure she wanted to actually see it.
“I…would rather not. It’s not the easiest of changes, and I’m still recovering my energy from the attack. Today’s raid drained most of my reserves, and I used the rest on this.” He looked apologetic. “It also hurts like the devil, so if you don’t mind, I’d ask that you believe me.”
“Uh huh. Okay,” she said weakly, leaning to her right to rest her arm on the table. “Yeah. Believe you. You’re a werewolf. Got it.”
“Wolf shifter,” came the gentle correction. “Werewolves, technically, are something different.”
“Right. Of course. How could I be so crass. Wolf shifter,” she amended. “Totally makes more sense.”
Lucien snickered. “If sarcasm is all you need to deal with this, then I think we’re going to manage just fine.”
“Right,” she repeated, eyes roaming over his naked, toned body. “Sarcasm is usually how I deal with naked wolf shifters less than two feet away from me.”
“Oh it is, is it?” Lucien asked, his face relaxing slightly. “I have to admit, I’m impressed by your resiliency. I…wasn’t sure how you would take it.”
“I could take it.” Alison blinked, tearing her eyes away from the tantalizing v-shape that disappeared just past his thigh, wondering what was beyond. “I mean, why did you think I couldn’t handle this little bit of knowledge?”
“It’s not something that comes up in normal conversation,” Lucien joked. “But it appears I underestimated you.”
“Well, don’t let it happen again,” she said, surprised that she wasn’t freaking out.
Or am I?
“I won’t,” he promised.
“By the way, you’re still naked.”
“Yeah,” Lucien agreed, glancing down. “That I am. It’s hell on clothing. But there are sweatpants in the other room. If you just want to close your eyes, I’ll go get dressed.”