Unwilling: a shifter romance

by Hannah L. Corrie

  "Are you gonna keep staring, or are you getting out and stop being a wimp?" she huffed and the corners of her mouth pulled down into a derisive sneer. Then she stepped away from the car and turned around, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.

  Darwin sighed, rubbed his neck and pulled the keys out of the ignition. In reality, Darla could punch through the door if she wanted to hurt him, so there was no use in hiding in the car.

  Ignoring how his knees shook, he slid out of the car, closed the driver-side door behind him and leaned against it. Darla kept her back to him, but he saw her rub her arms against the cold or whatever emotions rattled through her brain with him standing behind her.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked, because he honestly didn't have any idea what else to say. He already knew she hated him and with good reason, but hate was nothing but a sentiment. Some people could hate and still act civil, other people didn't even reach that level of disdain before they exploded. With Darla, he simply wasn't sure. She was too hard to read.

  Darla didn't turn around, but she moved her weight from one foot to the other, stood straighter.

  "Did you really tell no-one but me where you were going?" She sounded suspicious but her posture screamed morbid curiosity.

  "Just you," Darwin said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. "Is there something wrong with that?"

  She turned around and threw him a heated glare beneath furrowed brows. The tendons at her neck tightened until they protruded through the skin, but she didn't move from her spot, just stared at him with dripping hate.

  "I could kill you right here, right now, and nobody would find out it was me," she snarled and there was a rough, grinding tone of delight in her voice. "And just when I think it'll be finally enough, that I'll finally be able, willing, ready to rid myself of you, you turn around and do something like this! Why? Why do this to me?"

  Darwin's heart pounded against his ribs, his fingers tingled with the strength of his harsh pulse. His eyes flitted over her face, the way she held her hands and arms, the slightly forward stance, but he couldn't find a clue as to what she was talking about. "What did I do?" he asked through the tightness in his throat, swallowing dryly.

  Darla didn't answer. She shook her head and gestured to the phone booth, grumbling, "Go make your call. I won't walk back on foot, now that you've made me run through the woods all the way down here. And make it quick before the others realize we're both gone."

  With that she turned around again, watching the bushes on the other side of the ditch.

  Darwin kept his eyes on her for a few seconds, but when she didn't add anything, he sighed and turned towards the phone booth. Though he didn't want to admit it, he felt safer with her around, hatred or no hatred. One day, they would be able to clear the air between them, but until then he would take what he got.

  "Hello?" George said gruffly, his voice sounding metallic and muted through the unfamiliar phone line.

  Darwin's heart jumped in his chest, then started a feisty gallop against his ribs. He hadn't taken into account his father might pick up. Hearing George's voice brought home how much he missed his father, his home, his friends and the peace he had known as a kid.

  What should he say?

  "Dad," he said softly, unable to mutter more than one word for fear his home sickness might become audible in his voice. His throat closed up for a moment.

  A sharp intake on the other side of the line caught his attention. "Darwin? Is that you?" George asked, tentatively hopeful. The anxiety in his father's voice made Darwin look around to make sure nobody was listening in.

  Darwin took a deep breath and concentrated on the task at hand. "Yes, dad, it's me. I don't have much time, the others are waiting for me. I just wanted to check in and tell you I'm alright." And he had questions he wanted to ask, but not wanting to stress George made it a hard thing to do. Darwin was still trying to work out how to ask about Carl when George surprised him.

  "You're not alright. You haven't been for a long time, have you?"

  Darwin held the phone away from his head and stared at it incredulously, then quickly pressed it back against his ear. "I don't know what you're talking about," he grumbled, leaning his forehead against the metal chassis of the phone.

  "Yes you do, but I guess it's hard to speak out loud," George hesitantly offered. Then he seemed to think better of it and added, "Something bad is going on with Carl, something really bad. And you have been keeping quiet for years, for my sake. I want you to know I'm sorry."

  It was getting hard to breathe through the rush of adrenaline. Darwin pressed his hand against the glass side of the booth, leaning his back against the other side to keep himself from crumbling to the ground. Darla appeared on the outside right in front of him, so he closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the pity and disgust on her face in that moment.

  George seemed to take his silence as an invitation to continue. "You meant well, but this has to stop. You're a kid, my kid, and I need to take care of you, not the other way 'round. Now tell me. Tell me everything."

  The world stood still for a few seconds. The constant fear and panic, the need to protect his father, fought a war against the exhaustion and the need to come clean at last, have it done with. His heart beat fast and faste, and then it stopped for a breath,... And at last, Darwin broke and told it all.

  It took a long time and a lot of coins, but he got through with a lot of silences and pauses and quite a few outbursts of either tears or anger. In the end he told his father everything, from the beginning to the end.

  When he was done and the phone silent, he found himself sitting on the floor, his face wet with tears he hadn't noticed, surrounded by darkness. Blinking, he tried to get up, only to find himself too weak and tired to do so. He scrambled for a grip, ultimately relenting to grabbing the phone and pulling himself upright, but there was no way he'd be able to drive, shaken up like this.

  And Darla was there again, standing right outside the phone booth like an evil spirit. Either her face was unreadable, or Darwin was too exhausted to bother having a closer look. She likely had heard all those gut-wrenching details he hadn't even told Jared yet and probably never would. He'd be a happier person if he could forget everything Carl had done and made him do and Jared constantly pitying him would make that impossible. At least he didn't run the same risk with Darla. She'd never pity him, not after what he had done to her.

  Carefully, unsteadily, he stepped out of the phone booth and fumbled for the car keys. "I can't drive right now," he husked, trying for a weak smile and only partly succeeding.

  Surprisingly, Darla didn't say a word. She grabbed the keys, threw him a dirty look and started walking, forcing Darwin to stumble after her or get left behind.

  They drove in uncomfortable silence, but it helped Darwin sort his thoughts. Darla had to have heard what he told his father. None of the others would spill anything about his past, so it had to be news to her. On the other hand, she had gotten bits and pieces of information over the last few days, so perhaps the whole matter finally started to make sense to her.

  If it did, though, she didn't show it. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn the skin around her knuckles white and her lips were frozen in a perpetual unhappy sneer. She looked as cheerless and angry as she always did around him, so hearing Darwin's life had been thoroughly fucked up in the last few years probably didn't make much of a difference to her.

  And it shouldn't, Darwin decided. Whatever he had gone through, his actions had pulled Darla down into the same dirty, dark hole. They would never become friends and this was how it should be. But maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to act civil around each other. It was all he could hope for.

  Trees were rushing by and the road got bumpier the higher they drove. Stars blinked between shreds of clouds, drifting across the sky with increasing speed as the wind surged. There was a bit of moonlight, but not enough to improve Darwin's night vision which
was bleary at best after all the crying. Darla didn't seem to have any problems navigating, but as soon as the road leveled out again and the hut came into view, she stopped the car.

  They sat in silence for a few moments as Darwin's heart tried to leap out of his neck.

  "You are one pitiful little fucker, you know that?" she growled with a voice void of heat and thick with artificial anger. "If I didn't know I followed you on my own, I would accuse you of staging that phone call shit just to win me over. Either way, you didn't succeed. I still hate you."

  "I'm fine with that. You should hate me. I hate myself for what I did to you," Darwin replied and smiled a little.

  That silenced her for a moment. She stared at his profile but he didn't add anything. He had said all he'd needed to, it was up to her to decide how to proceed.

  A dismissive sniff echoed through the car, then she put it back into gear and drove the last few yards. "I won't tell the others," she said, sounding unhappy with her own decision, "but I'll leave the pack as soon as this is over."

  As Darwin sucked in air to voice his protest, she already had put the car in park and jumped out, leaving him to sit there and stare at the empty driver seat.

  Well, that didn't go well.

  Carl

  Anger had a very unique aroma, particularly when it had been brewed slowly and left to simmer for a long time.

  Werewolves had an extraordinary sense of smell in both of their physical forms, but as a human it was a bit weaker. The only good thing about the human form was the sheer strength a werewolf still possessed and, of course, opposable thumbs combined with a keen talent for target throwing.

  The office chair creaked beneath Carl's ever-shifting weight. He liked the lulling sound and never bothered to oil it and make it stop, but now it egged him on to shift around faster and he couldn't have that. Oddly enough, he time and time again resumed shifting and twitching, no matter how hard he tried to sit still.

  The article about anthropological studies concerning the question of why humans were so successful, evolutionarily speaking, also just wouldn't stop ringing through his head. Humans ruled the earth because they threw well, the article said, and it wasn't right. Not right, because God had shaped the earth and ruled that humans would be on top of all the other little creatures, hadn't he? He sure had and there was no place for thumbs or ball-throwing in creation. Humans were God's children, meant to reign as the dominant species. But then, where in the bible would the apostles have put werewolves?

  The computer screen in front of him flickered to black as the monitor switched to idle. Carl didn’t mind. He didn't need to stare at the small black console window for his tracing program to run its course and his mind was too preoccupied with too many things to stay alert anyway.

  Humans were God's creatures, but this thing about their success gave Carl strange thoughts. Humans were better than animals at using tools, throwing and handling objects. A werewolf was both human and wolf and now that he thought about it, they had gotten the best of both species. Opposable thumbs, good spatial awareness, intellect and intelligence, keen instincts, perfect senses, and unprecedented strength.

  Following those arguments, the only logical conclusion was that werewolves would one day rule the world, wasn't it?

  And it would put us in the hands of the devil for overturning god's plan.

  Carl didn't like that, not at all. He had always been as god-fearing as he could, despite all the craziness his pack poured on him, but this... thought, this terrible, horrible idea, it was too much. His legs started to bounce once more, slowly at first but steadily speeding up until his heels made a clack-clack-clack-clack sound on the wooden floor from the sheer force with which his leg muscles twitched.

  His initial motivation had been his thirst for power, he didn't deny it. The subs, the submissives, held him back, lulled him, calmed him, and he didn't need calm. He needed anger, strength, cold-bloodedness, to keep everything from falling apart, so he had taken them out of the equation, each and every one of them, except Darwin.

  Now, he saw a greater picture in his quest. With every minute ticking by, it became clearer and clearer. He had started all of this killing as a grab for power, but it was God's work now, God's hand guiding the devil's weapon against him.

  If Carl controlled all the werewolves, first in the neighboring cities, but at some point in all of the US, he could stop them from becoming the dominant life form on earth. He would stop them from eradicating humanity. So what if the devil had spawned them to kill god's creation, he still had a will of his own, still had a choice!

  Carl, sitting there in the darkness, chose God and evil.

  Still, there was Darwin. Darwin was a hitch in Carl's plan that could ruin everything. He had seen too much, he knew too much, and with this knowledge he could warn others, incite them against his mission. Darwin had to die either way, but now, God was involved. Carl's pride and his fight for power weren't the only thing on the line anymore, he now thought bigger. Much bigger.

  The tracer program gave a blip, alerting Carl to phone activity in George's house. His old friend was the one and only link Carl still had to Darwin. Poor George really didn't know what was best for him anymore and this, too, was Darwin's fault as far as Carl was concerned. Submissives were the thorns in Carl's flesh and this one, Darwin, had slowly but surely driven a wedge between Carl and his best friend from the moment he had entered their life.

  Darwin was the culprit behind George's health problems and Carl possessed proof. Since his disappearance, his pack members were reporting unusual activity at George's house. The old dog had found his fire again, or so he heard. Not a lot, but enough to fill Carl with a shred of hope. Hope that George would heal, once Darwin was dead. Unfortunately, George was heading down a dangerous path: the wrong one, the one towards Darwin and away from his pack. And this, again, put Carl on the spot. He missed his best friend more than anything, but now that he had a mission from God, he couldn't risk George stopping him.

  The screen came to life with a blinding flash of conservative white. Carl stared at the data streaming through the small console window, furrowing his brow at the numbers. It wasn't much, just a bunch of relay stations and the number calling, but it was enough information. Whoever was making the phone call to George's home did so from out of state. The tracer program wasn't as sophisticated as the software police were using, so it couldn't follow the caller all the way, but it would be enough for a regional call by mobile phone.

  The hits came up. To Carl's surprise, this wasn't a mobile phone but a land line. With a regional code. He didn't need to see what relay stations it used, he could follow the number to its position.

  Carl grinned harshly. God was with him.

  All good Things

  Jared

  Training with Hector was never consistent. On some days, Jared got home in the afternoon. On other days, he barely made it home for dinner. Unfortunately, his exhaustion always was the same since training only ended when Jared couldn't go on. He always went straight home, trying not to fall asleep at the wheel, dragging himself into the house and all but dropping dead as soon as he reached the bed.

  It put a strain on his relationship with Darwin, Jared knew that. The amount of social contact between them usually was limited to a tired 'hello' in the mornings and evenings, maybe some cuddling, given Jared woke long enough when Darwin joined him in bed, but nothing more. Still, Jared had thought Darwin understood how important this was. How essential it was to find a weapon against Carl, not only for himself or some trumped-up epic victory over an adversary. As he blearily watched Darwin trot towards the cabin through the darkness, Jared felt nothing but tired, helpless rage.

  Darla was the first to reach the door, so he grabbed her by the collar of her blouse as soon as she stepped over the threshold. "What the fuck, Darla!" he bellowed, shaking her like a rag doll, happy she would take the brunt of his rage before he had to face Darwin. He would never use force like this on him but
he had to do it to someone, lest there be dire consequences.

  At first, her face was a mask of surprise, but it soon twisted into an expression of not quite contained anger. Jared felt a twitch tug at his cheek a split second before Darla made the first move to twist out of his grip. "Get off of me!" she snapped, then started to struggle.

  As soon as she began the motion to raise her hand in an attempt to grab his arm, he shoved her back and let her go, making her stumble and fight for balance. Jared could see in her eyes that she knew he could beat her in a fight, but there was also that ever-burning rage Darla couldn't seem to let go. If he didn't get a grip on himself, she would snap and they would have to fight. And he would have to kill her at some point.

  Responsibility sucked.

  For a few labored breaths, they both stood facing each other, tense and ready to fight, eyes flaming, waiting for that small sign of weakness that would give one or the other a chance to get the drop on their opponent. In that breathless, heavy moment, Darwin strode in through the door.

  He froze as soon as he got a whiff of the tension between them, making a face like the proverbial deer in the headlights. To his misfortune, it also gave Jared's rage a new target.

  "What's going on?" Darwin asked, his voice tight with sudden tension.

  Jared turned abruptly, shoulders and arms coiled with the need to hit something. "Where the FUCK have you been?" he roared, loud enough to make the pipe framing of the clothes hanger next to Darwin vibrate and sing with the echo.

  Darwin stumbled backward and out the way he had come, almost missing the stairs as he backed away from the seething Alpha. His heart beat loud and hard enough to fill the night with its rhythm, enticing Jared to stalk after him. "C-Calling my dad, f-from the phone booth," Darwin stuttered, fighting to breathe, talk and appear nonthreatening at the same time. It wasn't a very successful effort.