by Lizzy Ford
He turns and looks me over. He’s staring at my injured back leg. I can smell he’s afraid, but he tosses another marshmallow and moves closer. I snatch the marshmallow and retreat, more interested in food than him being anywhere near me. I have no idea how I’d react in this situation, and I’m afraid he means to hurt me or capture me, neither of which are options at the moment.
I don’t know his intentions.
I want marshmallows.
But I can’t trust him.
But I want marshmallows.
The draw of food wins. More marshmallows keep me from bolting or hiding, until he’s crouching near me, holding out a fat white treat in his hand. He’s speaking again and smiling. Sensing no threat, I grab the marshmallow and swallow it.
He stands and moves away, towards the tack room beside the stalls of horses. I watch warily and rest for a moment, pretty certain I’m gonna have to leave soon.
When he emerges, he has a blanket and small bag. He lays out the blanket over some of the loose straw then tosses marshmallows on it. Understanding he’s creating a place to lay down, I accept the peace offering and stretch out on the blanket.
God, I hurt. I’m grateful for the numbed senses. I’d be out of my mind howling or crying if I could feel just how bad it is.
The boy continues talking and handing me marshmallows and crouches near me. He opens the bag, and I realize what it is: a first aid kit. The pungent scents of antiseptic and iodine makes me sneeze, which in turn makes him laugh.
Doubting Band-Aids are going to be remotely useful, I’m grateful for the brief rest and steady supply of food. I watch him pull out the contents of the bag and rest my head on my paws. I’m tired, angry, scared. I want Ben now more than ever and am terrified I’m stuck as a wolf for all time.
Marshmallow-boy’s bright idea is to dump alcohol over my back leg. The moment the burn hits, I black out.
Chapter Eleven
This time, when I awaken, I know I’m not a wolf before my eyes open. The blanket beneath me is scratchy, wool probably, and I smell hay. I’m hurting less today, though my stomach aches from marshmallow overload. My head is fuzzy and my vision blurry.
Pressing the meat of my palms against my eyes, I blink rapidly and focus on the rafters of the barn far above me. I sense Marshmallow-boy, and dread trickles through me. A supernatural is never supposed to reveal the existence of our Community to the human world.
I didn’t really have a choice, though. I’m a shitty wolf. Of all the nights for Ben not to be with me …
The kid’s not dead, which surprises me after blacking out. Apparently, he took out my wolf side, too, when he shocked me with the pain from the alcohol. He’s staring at me once more in shock, seated on a hay bale nearby.
“You’re a werewolf,” he whispers.
“Y’think?” I mutter and struggle into a sitting position.
His eyes drop to my breasts, and he flushes and stands. “I’ll get you another blanket,” he mumbles. He all but runs into the tack room. A minute later, he returns with a worn flannel shirt that appears to have come from a pile of rags. He drops it near me, eyes averted.
I stretch for it with a grimace and pull it on. I’m torn up as a human, too, but the wounds appear far less threatening in daylight. Do wolves have the ability to heal? I make a note to ask Ben when I have the chance.
The kid tried to patch me up. The bandages that work for a wolf are either too tight or too loose on me now, and I remove them.
“Do you, uh, want more marshmallows?” he asks awkwardly. “Or, uh, normal breakfast?”
“I’m not very hungry. Thanks,” I reply. One of my wounds has opened, and I rest back on the ground.
“You’re a werewolf,” he says again.
“Yeah.”
“I saw you change and still can’t believe it.”
Fuck. I’m too fatigued to know what to say. Closing my eyes, I sigh.
“Do you need a doctor or … maybe a vet?” he asks. “Where do werewolves go?”
I start to laugh, as much because I don’t know the answer as because he’s caught me off guard, but quickly stop from the pain. “What’s your name?”
“Ryan.”
“I’m Leslie. I don’t need a vet but can you call someone for me?”
He nods.
I give him Ben’s name and the company. The largest construction company in the country is going to have a website with contact information. Ryan googles it and then calls. Listening, I assess myself.
I’m a train wreck. My left leg moves today, for which I’m grateful, but I have no idea what shape I’m in medically.
“They said they’d let him know,” Ryan reports. “Can I get you anything?”
“Water.”
“Do you want a bowl or cup?”
This time, I can’t stop my laughter. The awkward kid is serious. I guess if I didn’t know werewolves existed, and saw someone transform from a wolf into a person, I’d ask these kinds of questions, too.
“Cup,” I reply. Laughing hurts.
Ryan leaves the barn.
I lie still. It’s peaceful and quiet here, but I’m not comfortable. I feel alone, a little lost, and am counting the seconds until I can see Ben again.
At some point, I drift off into a restless doze. I don’t wake up until I smell him. Ben’s scent hits me like a shot of adrenaline, and my eyes flutter open. I have little to no energy, or I’d be leaping to my feet and flinging my arms around him. All sense, all logic, flees when he’s present.
He scoops me off the ground, his touch sending a tremor of awareness through me. His features are drawn, and his jaw is clenched. I can feel his tension and that of his wolf. I press my face to his chest and breathe him in, not relaxing until fully convinced he’s really found me. My nightmare of an adventure is over. Nothing can hurt me or scare me when I’m in Ben’s arms.
“Hey, sweetheart.” His low, husky voice is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. He hugs me against his muscular chest and buries his nose in my hair.
“Hey,” I whisper. My throat is tight, and tears blur my vision. I’m clinging to him, trembling and hurt, about to go into full breakdown mode. With his energy flying through me and his presence yanking down the barriers I can’t keep up between us, I’m starting to recall details I don’t want to, feel pain I want to ignore.
He carries me out of the barn and to the car that’s waiting. I hear Ryan talking to Jason and crack an eye open, making sure no one decides to eat the poor kid who took care of me. They part with a handshake, and I relax.
Ben gets into the car without releasing me, as if he, too, doesn’t want to break contact. I curl up in his lap, my injured side up, and wrap my arms around him, doing my best to merge us into one being until my urgency to feel him starts to abate. He tucks his face into the nape of my neck, holding me tightly to him.
It feels again like an apology, but I’m not sure why he’d feel the need to apologize. He tends to show his emotions rather than voice them.
Whatever he’s thinking, I’m just happy to be with him again.
“Leslie, I need to check out your injuries,” Jason’s voice is soft.
I lift my face to see him. “Are you okay?” I venture.
“A little banged up but not bad.” He smiles. There’s tightness in his features, too. He pulls on latex gloves and opens a first aid kit.
Ben isn’t speaking. I can sense his emotion, bunched like his muscles against my body. He’s simply breathing in my scent and holds me as if he’s afraid I’m going to disappear if he lets go.
Jason shifts the shirt I’m wearing to see the wounds. He says nothing, and his touch is light. “Stitches in two places and I’m going to guess your left leg is broken.”
I want to cry but don’t, temporarily placated by Ben’s touch.
“We’ll get you fixed up.” Jason leans back and removes the gloves. “If you turn tonight, you’ll be healed by tomorrow.”
“Really?” I ask.
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br /> “Yeah. I’m assuming you were stuck in wolf form?”
I nod.
“We heal faster as animals. Your wolf was trying to protect you until you were safe.”
Ben doesn’t speak, hardly moves. I can hear his strong heartbeat and rest my face against his shoulder. I have questions, and I’m afraid to learn some of the answers. Mainly, I’m exhausted and want nothing more than to doze off in his arms.
We reach his house. Jason comes inside with us, and Ben carries me into the bedroom, sitting with me on the couch. I search his features, uncertain why he hasn’t said more. By the circles beneath his eyes, he hasn’t slept in a day or two, and he nuzzles me when I look too long. His mood … I’m too tired to decipher it. It’s dangerous but not towards me. He’s furious and relieved. As always, his emotions run so much deeper than I understand.
Jason is as gentle as possible, but everything he does hurts. From the shot of local anesthetic to the iodine to the stitches to him bracing my leg.
“Are you a doctor or a vet?” I ask Ryan’s question.
He laughs. “Doctor. We do have a vet in the family, though.” Moving away from me, he tucks his supplies into his bag. “I’m done. You need tons of rest, food and to turn tonight.”
“Thanks.”
He nods and moves towards the door.
“Jason,” I twist and wriggle free from Ben’s tight grip to see Jason. “I mean it. Thank you for protecting me.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He leaves.
I nestle back into Ben’s body, drunk on his scent. “Are you mad at me?” I ask, uncertain how to take his silence.
“No.”
“What is it?” I rest my hands on his cheeks.
His expression, intent as always, is unreadable. “I’m not used to this mate thing.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I thought you were dead.” His words are soft, tortured.
Can it be that a werewolf is capable of caring for someone else? Touched by his torment, I hug him. “I’m too bitchy to die.”
He chuckles.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, thoughts on all that’s happened.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But Jenny. She’s my fault.” My voice cracks. There’s a part of me that acknowledges I killed someone – and the rest of me that’s in panicked denial.
“No, Leslie. She made her choices. They were the wrong ones.” Pain is in his tone.
I don’t say what I want to, don’t ask him what happens to a dead wolf. I know he’s hurting, too.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He stands and walks towards the en suite.
With gentleness that throws all my doubt about him out the window, Ben carries me into the shower, strips, and very carefully washes me down. I’ve got two days of filth, mud and blood on me. He supports me with one hand and runs a soapy hand down my body with the other. He’s aroused – his cock is huge and pressed to my hip – but he makes no moves on me, for which I’m grateful.
I’m in no shape for anything. The soapy, warm water feels good. His touch feels even better, and I lean into his strong frame, letting the water wash away the rest of my fear while Ben supports me.
He remains gentle and towels me down before lifting me and setting me on the bed. He climbs in beside me and wraps his arms around me once more, tucking me into his body.
I’m sore and achy – but I’ve never felt safer or more comfortable than I do right now. I sigh deeply.
His edge remains, and I glance up at him again.
He’s gazing at me in a way that tugs me from my peace for the first time since catching his scent in the barn.
“You are mad,” I murmur. I’m too tired to be upset by it.
“Not at you,” he says, though I don’t fully believe him. “You’ve been a hurricane in my life since I first set eyes on you.”
“Maybe that’s how this works,” I reply. “Maybe I’m supposed to stir up your life to see where the dust settles.”
“Meaning …”
“If you’re to become the Community leader, I should know how you react to a hurricane,” I reason. “How you handle crisis, opposition. Innocents caught in the crossfire.”
“Innocents.” His tone is cooler.
“Leon and those like him.”
Ben is giving me the look. He’s either trying to read between the lines for my meaning or determining if his inner wolf needs to handle me.
I smile. I don’t know why it’s funny to know he’s off guard, but it is. “What are you doing with him?” I press.
“There are thirty names in the mix. A few have already been dealt with, including their leader.”
My smile fades.
“The rest I’ll determine what to do with, but your trial will be over by then. So what the fuck do you care if you leave a trail of disaster behind you?” he whispers roughly.
That jab stings and the warmth of anger trickles into me.
“You’re waiting ‘til the full moon.” I prop myself up on an elbow. “You’re going to kill Leon like all the others.” Whether it’s exhaustion or another emotion, I’m starting to well up.
“What others?” Ben asks, frowning.
“The werewolf population has been cut in half since you took over,” I reply. “My father thought you’re culling the wolves.”
I’ve never seen him surprised before. He stares at me for a full minute before he speaks. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
The King of Sudden Exits disentangles himself from me and leaves the bed, standing.
I feel his loss like I’m back in the forest, scared and alone again. “Don’t,” I start to say but stop myself. I don’t like feeling at the mercy of his emotions – or my own. But I need him to stabilize and … I want him beside me. I’m starting to tremble.
“You really think I could slaughter half my wolves?” he demands. “You think I’m what? An animal? Like the rest of the fucking Community believes?”
His emotion isn’t something I can handle at the moment. I rest back on the pillow and curl up, hugging my good knee to my chest and starting to cry. I hurt so much more when he’s not touching me. I don’t know why that is.
“My candidacy has taken thousands of years in the making. You think my people would nominate me if I was killing them off?” he continues. “What the fuck is wrong with you Kingmaker’s? Is it hereditary? Is hatred bred into you?”
“I don’t know.” I can’t handle this. Can’t handle disappointing him or upsetting him. “I don’t know.” I don’t have the strength to tell him I’m just figuring out what the fuck I’m doing.
He ceases pacing. My eyes are closed, and tears are running down my face onto the pillow. I’m so fucking tired, and my entire body aches. This feels like he’s rejecting me, and I just am not able to deal with this werewolf mate magic bullshit.
The bed gives beneath his weight. His arms go around me, and he pulls me into his chest again. My back is soon pressed to his torso, his arms around me. At once, my fear and sense of lostness are both gone. The pain begins to abate immediately.
“The wolves suffer from a genetic defect,” he says, calming. “It’s gotten worse over the years. More and more wolves are born sterile. I’ve invested half my family’s fortune into a cure but can’t even find a medical explanation for it.”
I listen, not expecting the honesty from a man who’s kept himself at arm’s length since I met him.
“Two of my brothers are doctors, and the other two and my sister genetic scientists. Many of my cousins are involved in medicine and science as well. We’re all working to find the problem. In another three hundred years, there will be no more wolves born,” he continues. “The other clans don’t know this.”
It’s as far as can be from culling. I’m beginning to think my father had a little bit more than resentment going on when it came to supernaturals. Embarrassed I thought Ben capable of slaughtering his own wolves, a
fter he’s shown such patience with me – a member of a clan he and the others all despise – I’m more embarrassed to realize he’s been somewhat right all along about my father and me.
We assume the worst about the supernaturals. We assume they’re heartless, emotionless, resentful beings.
But … that kind of describes my father thinking Ben would kill his wolves and me believing it without question. Not once did I consider there was another explanation.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Ben says nothing. I know he’s upset. I don’t think this is something I can come back from – and I find myself wishing I could take back my stupid accusation.
“And I’m sorry about …” I can’t say Jenny’s name.
“We found the body.” His tone softens.
I recoil and curl up in a ball, not ready to face those emotions yet.
“You acted in self defense,” he says and pulls me back into his warmth. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
How can he be so quick to believe so? I’m a Kingmaker and killed one of his wolves. How is he not angry? “You don’t know that,” I retort. I’m sliding away again, but this time, it’s emotion that’s about to supplant my reason.
“I know you.”
“The Kingmaker who accused you of killing half your wolves?”
“Animals can sense good and evil in someone. You’re very good, very pure. But you’ve been tainted by your father’s perceptions.”
The observation is far too personal. “But I killed someone.” I can barely hear my voice. “She wanted to kill me.”
He holds me. I start to cry. It’s like the day in my father’s study, when Ben walked in on me at my most vulnerable. I hate this feeling of being exposed – but I like his arms around me.
“You’re safe, Leslie,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ll never let anything happen to you again.”
This week, I add silently. The thought fades and exhausted sorrow takes over. I start to sob, which kills my already bruised body, which makes me cry more.
Ben doesn’t let me go, and when I’m completely spent, I fall into my first deep slumber in days.