Werewolf in Alaska: A Wild About You Novel

by VickiLewis Thompson

  Finally she walked over to the slider and peered in. No wolf stood on the other side. No doubt the slider was locked, but she tugged on it anyway, for good measure. It glided open smoothly, as if recently cleaned and oiled.

  Heart pounding, she quickly closed it. She was willing to trespass on the outside of his property, but going into his house when he wasn’t home was a whole different level of invasion. On top of that, the wolf might be inside silently guarding the house.

  She didn’t think the animal would attack her after recently saving her life, but she would be encroaching on his master’s territory. That might change the rules. Turning away from the unlatched slider, she studied the deck, not sure what she might be looking for.

  There! Crouching down, she examined some bits of black hair caught between the deck’s weathered gray floorboards. She took pictures of that, too. Unfortunately, Jake had hair just like it, so this bit of evidence wasn’t so telling.

  But he couldn’t explain the paw prints, unless he had the ability to change into a wolf and . . . She gasped and went very still. Now, there was a crazy thought—a completely impossible concept that had no business taking up residence in her brain.

  Standing, she gazed out over the lake toward her cabin, as if the familiar sight of her house and her workshop would help ground her in reality and wipe out that scary idea she’d just come up with. If anyone could read her mind right now, they’d ship her off to a mental ward. Sure, legends were fun to think about, but nobody actually believed in such things as . . . werewolves.

  Suddenly breathing became a real chore and her stomach didn’t feel so good, either. She was letting her imagination run away with her again, of course. Werewolves existed only in books. They didn’t live in cabins on Polecat Lake, drive trucks, and run trekking companies.

  Except that would explain everything. She remembered the angry red welts on Jake’s torso, welts that were on the same side as the wounds the wolf had received from the bear’s claws. Jake’s nose had been bruised, too, as if someone had hit him. Someone with a baseball bat.

  The air was soft and warm on this summer evening, but Rachel couldn’t stop shivering. No doubt this was a horrible nightmare and she’d wake up from it in a few minutes. She pinched herself, and it hurt like hell. So much for that remedy.

  The cry of a hawk overhead caused her to glance up . . . and remember. Years ago she’d been obsessed with Ladyhawke, a movie about two lovers placed under a spell. At night he’d turned into a wolf and at dawn she’d become a hawk. Rachel’s young heart had been captured by the love story, and she’d watched that movie over and over.

  Had the story stuck in her mind and emerged now to create this wild scenario? Possibly. Her imagination could be her greatest asset or her biggest enemy. Even her friends said so.

  And wait. Jake had a grill, for crying out loud. A werewolf wouldn’t need a grill. So there. The grill and the patio furniture were both normal guy stuff that didn’t fit with her goofy werewolf idea at all.

  Also, she’d allowed herself to become too invested in the fate of Jake’s pet wolf. Of course he had one, and it was either in his cabin or in hiding somewhere. Jake might not have any intention of sending it to a zoo, either. Yes, she owed that wolf a lot, but he seemed happy enough here with Jake.

  She might want to start minding her own business. She had a commissioned work in progress, and her client would be expecting it to be finished and hanging in the lobby of his office building within the next month. Taking a deep breath, she started back down the steps of Jake’s deck. Time to head home, brew a nice pot of tea, and get back to work.

  Before she did that, though, she’d call her parents. She hadn’t done that in a couple of weeks. Inviting them up for a visit sounded like a really good idea, too.

  She imagined how great it would be to see her mom and dad again, and the fun they could have grilling outside, just like her neighbor Jake, who was certainly not a werewolf, while they enjoyed the view of the lake and the mountains. She was a good ten steps away from Jake’s deck when she admitted why that image appealed to her so much.

  She was scared to death. Scared and running away from something that might be outside the bounds of her experience. Way outside. Like a little girl, she wanted her mommy and daddy to make everything nice and safe again.

  But damn it, she’d seen those welts on Jake’s torso and the bruise on his nose. She hadn’t imagined them, and she hadn’t imagined a wolf that had shown up right when she needed saving from a bear. Maybe that hadn’t been a coincidence, after all.

  Jake had been careless enough to leave his sliding door open. Or maybe it was an ingrained habit. The wolf, who might or might not be Jake, needed an unlatched slider for easy entrance and exit.

  She’d come this far. If she left now without checking inside his house, she might never learn the truth. She might search the place and find nothing conclusive, but at least she would have made use of this time while he was gone.

  Retracing her route and climbing the steps back up to his deck took more courage than she’d expected. She felt like Belle in Beauty and the Beast. The wolf, an actual one, might still be inside the cabin, though, and she needed to be careful.

  Then she thought of the message taught by the fairy tale. Despite his fearsome looks, that beast hadn’t been dangerous. She had no reason to fear the wolf, either. The creature that had attacked the bear, whatever that creature was, had been intent on her safety, not her destruction.

  But all that self-talk didn’t stop her heart from beating wildly as she opened the slider. “Wolf? Are you in here?” Silence greeted her. “I’m coming in, and I mean no harm.”

  After listening for any telltale sound of toenails on the floorboards, a growl, or a snuffle, she stepped inside Jake’s cabin. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until dizziness made her grab the back of an easy chair near the slider. Gulping in air, she stood beside the chair until she felt steady again.

  “Wolf? Are you in here?” After spending twenty-four hours with him, she thought he’d surely come out to investigate when he heard her familiar voice. The utter quiet in the cabin told her the wolf was not here. Maybe because he’s in San Francisco.

  Swallowing her nervousness, she slipped off her backpack and left it on the chair. Then she took a deep breath and looked around.

  The cabin seemed much as it had the other day—ordinary. The layout resembled hers, as she’d noted before. Her grandfather had said the two homes had been built around the same time. Furniture selection was limited in a place like Polecat, so it wasn’t surprising that Jake’s looked quite a bit like hers, too.

  At first she moved tentatively through the house, afraid to touch anything. But within a short time, when no wolf appeared, she grew bolder. Starting with the kitchen, she opened cabinets and drawers in search of mysterious items.

  Nothing turned up. A bottle opener with a wolf’s head on it was the only slightly different utensil, but this was Alaska. Such things could be found in any tourist shop.

  His canned goods revealed nothing, either. Apparently he liked organic cereal with dried fruit and nuts, because he had a supply of that. When she opened his freezer she discovered it was full of red meat, but that wasn’t significant, either. Many guys built like Jake enjoyed their burgers and steaks.

  She found fresh veggies in the refrigerator’s bottom section—staples like potatoes, carrots, and onions. Obviously he didn’t live on an all-meat diet. In fact, he had a good variety of food for being a bachelor. He’d stocked in eggs, milk, and cottage cheese, along with several bottles of Spruce Tip ale. She left the kitchen feeling no wiser than she had before, but calmer. So far there was nothing scary about Jake’s place.

  In the living room, she rummaged through his DVDs and discovered no werewolf movies in the mix. His bookshelf contained paperback mysteries, some science fiction, and a few nonfiction books on hiking trails in Alaska. Then she saw a book she recognized because she had one just like i
t at home. It was titled Alaskan Artisans of Today.

  She was featured in that book, which was only about six months old. Why would he buy an expensive coffee-table book that included pictures of her and her work, yet be so determined to give away her original wolf carving? Maybe he’d read something about her in the book that had turned him off.

  Flipping to the section devoted to her, she found a folded sheet of notepaper. It looked vaguely familiar, and when she opened it, she blinked in surprise. Instead of ignoring her note, as she’d imagined, he’d saved it. Even more astounding, he’d saved it for a couple of years before placing it in this book.

  These weren’t the actions of someone who was indifferent to her, or who had tired of having her work in his house. She didn’t know if Jake was a shape-shifter or not, but he was definitely more complicated than she’d originally thought.

  Replacing the book, she moved into his bedroom. The atmosphere here was so potently male that she caught her breath. Testosterone oozed from the oversized bed, with its massive peeled-log bedposts and huge mattress. She’d been drawn to it the first time she’d walked into this room, and now she had the luxury of being here without supervision.

  Giving in to temptation, she walked to the side of the bed, leaned over it with her arms outstretched, and slid up onto the mattress. She let her feet dangle off the edge, but the bed was big enough that she could have laid crossways on it, no problem.

  With her cheek resting against the soft comforter, she breathed in Jake’s scent. Too bad her interaction with him had become so damned confusing and strange, because she’d felt chemistry between them from the beginning. Rubbing her cheek against the material, she imagined lying here with Jake as sexual awareness hummed deep in her belly.

  Well, this was pleasant, but it wasn’t getting her any closer to the truth about Jake Hunter. After levering herself off the bed, she smoothed the comforter back into place. Then she opened his nightstand drawer, fully expecting she might find a package of condoms there. Many guys kept them handy by the bed.

  No condoms. But she found a notepad, a couple of pens, and underneath that, a slim paperback titled Down with Dogma: Benefits of Were-Human Cooperation. She held the book for several seconds as her heart thudded wildly and her brain struggled to make sense of what she was seeing.

  With trembling hands, she opened the cover and scanned the first page. The word werewolf leaped out at her as if surrounded with blinking lights. She seemed to be holding a treatise of some kind that had been written by a werewolf.

  Or perhaps the author, Duncan MacDowell, was pretending to be a werewolf. It could be a spoof. In fact, it probably was. She was panicking for no reason.

  But as she thumbed through the pages, she discovered that the text had been marked up, apparently by Jake. Spoofs didn’t usually prompt people to do that. They read the jokes, laughed, and passed on the funny book to the next person. They didn’t underline and write notes in the margin.

  Her heart rate picked up again. The book was for real. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she had some ideas. Sinking down to the bed, she drew in a quivering breath and began to read.

  Eventually that position became uncomfortable, but she couldn’t stop reading. Her eyes still glued to the pages, she nudged off her shoes, turned one of Jake’s gigantic pillows on end, and scooted up on the bed. She leaned back. Much better.

  She was halfway through the book when a soft sound penetrated her deep concentration. She glanced up and nearly fainted from shock.

  Jake stood in the bedroom doorway.

  She stared at him for what seemed like forever as adrenaline pumped through her veins and flushed her skin. He looked every inch a man—an extremely virile, travel-rumpled man. He’d pulled his dark green shirt loose from the waistband of his jeans, as if he’d needed to be more comfortable on the drive home from the airport.

  Concern was etched on his rugged face, but she saw no menace in his expression. He didn’t seem angry to discover her trespassing on his property. She had the odd thought that of the two of them, he might have more to fear than she did.

  Slowly she closed the book before sliding to the edge of the bed and putting both feet on the floor. Then she swallowed in an attempt to remove the metallic taste from her mouth. “You’re back early.”

  “So it seems.” His voice sounded as rusty as hers felt.

  Looking into his green eyes, she searched for answers. “Who are you, Jake?”

  “Your across-the-lake neighbor.”

  “And?”

  “You tell me.” But his resigned expression indicated he knew the game was over.

  She felt light-headed as she balanced on the brink of a truth she’d never imagined could be possible. “I think . . .” She paused to lick her dry lips. “I think you save careless women from ferocious mother bears.”

  “Maybe.”

  She sucked in a breath. He hadn’t denied it. “Instead of asking who you are, should I ask what you are?”

  That sparked the anger she might have expected earlier when he’d first caught her in his home. “I’m still a who, Rachel. Regardless of what form I take, I’m a creature with a soul and a conscience. I’m a thinking being at all times. I’m no monster.”

  She’d hurt him. What an astonishing thought. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very sensitive of me to say.” She gripped the book tightly in both hands, needing something to hold on to. “But give me some credit for not becoming hysterical, okay?”

  “I wouldn’t expect that of you. Anyone who leads a full-grown wolf into her bedroom and dresses his wounds isn’t the hysterical type.”

  Her pulse quickened. “So you really are a . . .” She couldn’t make herself say it. The idea seemed too preposterous, even with the evidence all around her.

  “A werewolf. Yes, I am.”

  She took several quick, shallow breaths and managed not to faint. “Wow.” She didn’t really believe him. Not yet, anyway. Such things took a while to sink in.

  “And I would give anything, all I possess in this world, if you’d never found that out.”

  Fear skittered up her spine for the first time since he’d arrived. “Because you’re going to kill me?”

  “No! God, no. I could never hurt you.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “That’s a relief.” Her laughter was edged with the hysteria she’d denied feeling seconds ago. “I was afraid you might walk over here and break my neck with one easy twist.”

  “Damn it, I saved you from the bear! How could you think I’d hurt you?”

  “Because I know too much. It happens all the time in movies. You might not want to kill me, but it’s the only way to guarantee my silence. It’s not, by the way,” she added quickly. “I can keep a secret.”

  Jake sighed. “You might think so, but this is one hell of a secret. Keeping it won’t be easy, and the repercussions if you don’t . . . Let’s say the stakes are extremely high.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “You have no idea. This kind of security breach isn’t supposed to happen. We take great care to make sure humans have no idea we exist.”

  “Just how many of you are there?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Damn.”

  “How many, Jake? Six? Twenty? Thousands?”

  When he opened his eyes, his gaze was bleak. “The less you know, the better, so I’m not going to answer that question.” He hesitated, as if choosing his words very carefully. “This really is not good, Rachel. I blame myself, but unfortunately, you’ll suffer the consequences, too.”

  The fear returned. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know yet.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “If you don’t, who does?” She’d been so pleased with her relatively calm reaction to finding out her neighbor was a werewolf, but his uncertainty about her fate was creating a panicky feeling she might not be able to control much longer.

  “Never mind. But whatever happens, I promise I won’t turn you over to the Were
Council.”

  “There is one?” Her voice went up an octave.

  “Shit. Forget I said that.”

  “Does this Were Council kill people?”

  “No. For God’s sake, quit talking like that. Weres don’t kill. We have a bad reputation thanks to horror novels and Hollywood, but we’re not killers. We’re protectors.”

  She really wanted to believe him. “But you mentioned something about me paying the consequences. Forgive me if I’m a tad bit worried.”

  “Then let me explain, at least a little. Now that you’ve discovered I’m a werewolf, I can’t let you waltz out of here as if nothing happened.”

  She nodded. “Exactly, so the easiest thing is to wring my neck. But you don’t seem to want to, so what’s the alternative?”

  “One option is taking you as my mate.”

  “What the hell?”

  “I didn’t say I was going to do that. It’s one option.”

  Heat sluiced through her. She couldn’t tell whether it was from indignation or sexual excitement, but she chose anger over arousal. “Sorry, buddy, but that doesn’t happen in my world. In my world, the woman has a choice in the matter, and no male, no matter how hairy, gets to declare that he’s going to take me. Got that, Jake?” His proposal was primitive and it was wrong. But not without appeal, damn it.

  “I get it, Rachel. Believe me, I’m no more eager to choose that option than you are.”

  “Why not?” Now she was insulted.

  “I have a deep and abiding conviction that Weres should never mate with humans.”

  Yes, she truly was insulted. “That’s not what Duncan MacDowell says.” She held up the book she’d been reading. “He thinks it’s a swell idea.”

  “Duncan MacDowell is an idiot.”

  “That explains all the notes in the margins. You were marshaling your arguments.”

  “I was.” He cleared his throat. “So mating with you is out, which means we have to come up with a different solution.”