Touch of the Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  “But Sam, this…”

  “Sounds nuts.”

  “Well, yeah. But…”

  Sam knew what she was thinking. “I can heal animals. You told me to keep an open mind.” She took a deep breath, reluctant to sound too enthusiastic. Patricia knew her well enough to detect falsehood. On the other hand, if she let her friend know how worried she was, Patricia would insist she come home.

  “He also said he knew about my father. He said he’d tell me my family history.”

  “Like dangling a carrot in front of a starving rabbit.”

  “No fair. You know how much I long for family.”

  “But Sam, have you thought about what you might do to that little girl’s parents if you show up there, claiming you can heal their sick child, when you don’t know if you can? We never did the test.”

  “I’ve thought of that. But if he’s right, this little girl is part animal.”

  “The shape-shifter stuff again.”

  “Right. He actually thinks I’m one of them. Part human and part animal.”

  “Honey, we’re all part animal. That doesn’t mean I buy into his story.”

  “I know.” Sam sighed. “I don’t know if I can really help, but I have to try. I’m worried about my job, though. I’ve got to make sure the library is covered while I’m gone.”

  “I’ll call John at city hall first thing in the morning. Don’t worry about that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I still think you’re making a mistake. So help me, if that Luc is lying to you…”

  “Don’t worry. I can’t see what he’d gain.”

  “Girl, he’s taking you up north. Anything can happen up there.” Patricia’s voice brightened as she thought of something. “Have you checked him out on the Internet?”

  “No.”

  “Hold on. Let me do a search.” She placed the phone down and Sam heard her mouse clicking.

  Curious, Sam waited.

  “Wow.” Returning to the phone and letting out a low whistle, Patricia sounded impressed. “I knew he was an author, but not that he’d written so many nonfiction books. All debunking paranormal myths like the Loch Ness Monster, vampires, zombies, ghosts and…”

  “Werewolves,” Sam said. “He’s working on a book debunking werewolves.” She waited for her friend to make the connection.

  In a second, she did.

  “Wow. That makes perfect sense, if there really are werewolves and they don’t want people to know. Luc might be their official spin doctor.”

  “True.”

  Patricia went silent for a second or two, then her voice rose with excitement. “I know. Maybe you should ask for proof.”

  Sam bit her lip. “Proof how?”

  “If he’s a werewolf, make him show you. If he can’t, then you’ll know he’s a liar.”

  “And if he can?”

  “Then you’ve got more trouble than I know how to handle. Have you considered purchasing a weapon, a small pistol like a derringer or something? For protection, just in case?”

  “I think there’s a waiting period and even if I could buy a gun, I wouldn’t even know how to use it.”

  “It’s not that difficult. Point and squeeze the trigger.”

  “No.” Sam waved dismissively, then remembered Patricia couldn’t see her. “I can’t imagine shooting an insect, never mind a person.”

  “You could if your life was in danger, believe me.”

  “Maybe, but a gun would be pointless. A pistol wouldn’t do me any good, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’d need silver bullets, remember? Ordinary bullets don’t work on werewolves.”

  Despite the ever increasing snowfall, after his shower, Luc kept stepping outside into the white cold. The first few times he did, he returned a moment later looking both sheepish and fiercely desperate. When he wasn’t dashing out into the snow like a kid trying to spy on Santa Claus, he paced in front of the small hotel room’s window.

  His restless agitation had become a palpable thing.

  Finally, Sam couldn’t stand it any longer. “What on earth is wrong with you? You’re reminding me of a bloodhound that thinks he smells something interesting outside and wants to chase it.”

  At her description, Luc froze, then slowly nodded. “You’ve pegged how I feel exactly right.” He sighed, searching her face. “Sam, I don’t want to frighten you, but it’s been awhile since I’ve changed into a wolf. I don’t know how much longer I can contain the urge. I think it might be better if I stay outside for a while.”

  Proof. Patricia had told her she should ask for proof.

  “What if I want to see you shape-shift?”

  He gave her a look so intense, so full of emotional baggage, that Sam wanted to go to him and kiss it away.

  He glanced once more at the window, at the swirling white storm outside. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed hard. Then, more firmly, she repeated, “Yes. I want to see.”

  He held himself immobile, hands clenched into fists for a moment. Then he reached for her, pulling her close and placing her hand on his heart.

  “Feel.”

  His heart beat strongly and frantically, far too fast for anyone who hadn’t been running.

  Was this the beginning of his…change?

  Heat coiled low in her belly and her breath caught. Her desire must have shown in her eyes, because she saw a reflection of her need in his face.

  “Luc…”

  “Kiss me,” he growled. “Kiss me now, before I run out into the snow.”

  She needed no second urging. The instant their lips touched, she felt seared, as though she’d stepped from snow into an inferno.

  Why was it always this way between them?

  The kiss started deep, shattering her self-control. She knew then that she wanted to make love to this man—fast and furious, slow and sensual, both ways, all ways…

  Luc made a sound low in his throat. Sam paused. The rumbling growl didn’t seem completely human.

  Shocked, she opened her eyes and blinked…and wondered why thousands of glittering fireflies were swirling in a frenetic dance before her face. No. Not possible. This was November and she was inside a motel room in the middle of nowhere. There weren’t any fireflies at this time of year.

  Yet the zigzagging colors tickled her eyelids.

  She tore her mouth from his and backed away.

  Surrounded by so many flickering lights that she could barely see him, Luc made another sound, an animal cry. Panting, he ran to the door, yanked it open and tore out of the room. The sparkling light show went with him.

  Curious, despite her fear and the cold, Sam grabbed the jacket he’d left behind and followed. Ahead she could see the swirling lights dancing in the whiteness, a flash of color through the blowing snow.

  Wrapping Luc’s jacket around herself tightly, she trudged after him. The snow was deep enough that she could follow his tracks, though new accumulation soon began to fill them in. Luc and his light show had disappeared into the woods, where the darkness seemed more complete. Still, she kept going, stopping only when she reached a large trampled area in a glade.

  There, she found Luc’s clothes piled on a rock. His socks and shoes, slacks and shirt, even his expensive loafers were there, becoming dusted with white.

  She remembered what he’d said earlier about being naked save for wolf fur.

  Part of her wanted to see his other self, his alter ego. At the same time she wanted to run back to the motel.

  Turning in a slow circle, Sam realized the foot-steps seemed to stop. Or…change. Instead of human prints, she saw animal prints in the snow. Wolf prints.

  No way! Yet there they were. For Sam, reality seemed to shift, then tilt on its axis.

  Werewolves—shape-shifters—were real. And she was half shifter.

  Something inside her thrilled at the thought. Would Luc know her, recognize her, when he was a wolf? Would she be in any
danger?

  A snuffling noise made her turn. Fifty feet away, a majestic, pewter-colored wolf waited. The same wolf she’d seen a hundred times in her dreams.

  “Luc?” She could have sworn the animal tilted his head. No. Freaking. Way.

  He’d told her. She’d listened. She’d even told herself this was fascinating and thrilling. In the abstract.

  But evidently, she hadn’t really believed. Until now.

  Luc had become a wolf.

  Chapter 9

  How was this possible? Staring at the magnificent animal in front of her, Sam wondered at her absence of fear. A wolf was a wild animal, a predator, and she could be in danger.

  But not from him. Never from him.

  This was Luc.

  He had told only the truth. She was involved in this now, like it or not. This was her heritage.

  Again, as in her dreams, she knew a fierce longing to become a wolf, to change, to run wild and free. According to Luc, such a thing wasn’t in the cards for her. She’d never changed, nor would she. She’d been born for an entirely different purpose. To heal.

  Starting with a sick little girl.

  And ending, perhaps, with Luc. She could bridge the abyss inside him. Ah, Luc. With a flash of blinding clarity, she realized that for her, everything would always come down to Luc.

  Again she looked at the wolf. Luc’s chocolate eyes gazed back at her from the regal lupine face.

  Uncertain, afraid, exhilarated all at once, she took a step closer. Then another. Soon, she was near enough to circle the beast, near enough to touch him if she dared.

  His thick fur collected snow like glitter. Her breath caught. Luc made a strikingly beautiful wolf.

  Sam slowly gathered enough courage to reach out a hand. She could have sworn the wolf’s—no, Luc’s—expression encouraged her. Falling snow-flakes frosted the outer edges of his coat, turning the pewter to silver.

  She touched him. Even now, she felt the familiar tingle of recognition, of heat.

  The fur felt soft and silky. Tangling her fingers in the undercoat, she scratched and caressed. The sound Luc made low in his throat was the exact one he’d made when they’d kissed earlier. A sound of want and need and longing.

  Finally, she stepped away and waited, not sure what she should do next.

  Lifting his muzzle, Luc tasted the breeze. He turned in a circle, tail flying. Once, twice, a third time.

  The firefly sparklers returned, so numerous and intense that they obscured him from her sight. Sam rubbed her eyes, peering at the flickering lights, trying to figure out what they were made of.

  “Magic and promises,” Luc’s voice said, and as she registered this, the fantastic curtain parted and he stood before her, naked and utterly magnificent.

  Man, not wolf. Yet both.

  And hers.

  Not even allowing herself to acknowledge this thought, Sam moved forward.

  He met her halfway, body to body, his mouth on hers, crushing, devouring. He didn’t even try to hide his arousal; she felt the hard press of it against her belly.

  When they broke apart, both breathing hard, he reached out his hand. Without a second thought she took it, and he scooped up his clothes and led her deeper into the forest, to a tall, granite wall where he showed her a small, hidden cave. While she waited, shivering, he padded around naked, inspecting the interior for safety.

  She thought of their nice, warm and cozy motel room with its soft beds and clean, crisp sheets. She opened her mouth to tell him they should go there, but then he looked at her and she realized she couldn’t.

  Luc was still part animal; she saw a wild, ferocious hunger when she gazed into his eyes.

  He came to her, his mouth searching, seeking. When he touched her, she felt warm again, and she allowed herself to melt into his heat, her own need rising to meet his.

  Her clothes stood between them, an annoying barrier, and despite the snow and the cold, when they broke apart she helped Luc strip them from her body. When she, too, stood naked, totally exposed to him for the first time and shivering, he ran his hand down her side.

  Where he touched, heat blazed. One arm under the small of her back, he lowered her to a bed of leaves, covering her body with his.

  When he entered her, she cried out. He kissed her, again and again, with each stroke plunging deeper, his tongue matching his body. Never had lovemaking been like this, complete possession, utter abandon, connecting.

  More than body, more than spirit, this was a juncture of souls.

  As she reached for something she’d never been able to touch, the sky shattered and the snowstorm outside swirled. Her entire body vibrated, clenching him, cradling him, loving him. She cried out his name as she felt herself explode.

  And the man she now knew she loved reached the same miraculous release, shuddering as he repeated her name over and over, his voice breaking.

  She found herself wanting to weep.

  Later, as they prepared to walk back to the motel in what appeared to have become a full-scale blizzard, she slipped her hand in his. Without his keen instincts for direction, she had no doubt they’d be lost, wandering the woods until they froze to death.

  When they finally reached the motel, Sam shivered uncontrollably, chilled to the bone. Luc unlocked the door and pulled her into the warm room.

  “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” he said, and proceeded to do just that.

  Teeth chattering, she tried to help, but her shaking fingers refused to work.

  Once she was naked again, he disrobed swiftly and yanked back the bedspread. “In here.”

  Too exhausted and cold to argue, she crawled beneath the sheets. He did the same, drawing her close.

  Heat radiated off him.

  “You’re so warm.” Snuggling into his warmth, she began to feel some of the chill leave her bones. “Why?”

  Even without her elaborating, he understood the question. “One of the benefits of changing and then having fantastic sex. Now rest.”

  Closing her eyes, she let his warmth invade her once more, filling her in a different way than he’d done earlier. The steady beat of his powerful heart helped her drift off to sleep.

  So far they hadn’t noticed him. Never before had he prided his skill as a hunter. The ultimate prize—health and power—depended on catching them by surprise.

  The other shifter had changed in front of Samantha.

  He hadn’t followed them too far into the woods, knowing the other’s nose would be able to detect him, no matter what steps he took to cover his scent. He hadn’t needed to follow, after all, because he’d learned where the other was vulnerable, which fit perfectly with his plans.

  Samantha and her remarkable power would be his, and soon. Now he had only to implement his plan.

  The snowplows came through early, clearing the snow and salting the roads. The storm had moved east, and when Luc checked the conditions ahead of them, things didn’t look good. Still, they packed the car and checked out. They had no choice but to try to reach Lucy.

  More than anything, Sam wished she could conquer her terror of flying. On this second day of driving, she wondered if she looked as awful as she felt. She hadn’t dared glance in the mirror. Luc, on the other hand, looked fantastic, as though he’d just returned from a Caribbean vacation, energized and cheerful. Being able to shape-shift into a wolf appeared to have multiple benefits.

  When they’d first heard the plows, Luc had taken her into his arms. They’d made love again, this time slow and lazily, with none of the desperate fierceness of the night before.

  This time, when the tenderness overwhelmed her, she’d gotten out of bed and stepped into the shower.

  By the time they’d both showered, the interstate heading east had been plowed, at least as far as Roanoke, Virginia. They’d take their chances, hoping the weather would improve by the time they reached that point.

  But they encountered no real problems, other than low visibility and blowing snow.r />
  After a brief stint in Maryland, they finally crossed into Pennsylvania. “We’ve got another eight hours or so, and that’s with good road conditions,” he warned. “We’ll stop for lunch around Scranton. That’s where we pick up I-84 and head east again.”

  Engrossed in reading the books he’d loaned her, she nodded. Every text had something definitive to say about healers.

  She devoured them, marveling at the intricate details that had been recorded of each healer’s life. They were always born Halflings, and the first indication of their talent had been their inability to change. They’d honed their abilities by performing healings on small animals, both wild and domestic, before entering the training to heal other Halflings. This experience perfected their skills, but no one throughout the ages, from Pack scientists to Pack doctors, had ever been able to learn exactly how they healed.

  Healers were considered blessed, right up there on a par with the saints Sam had learned about in catechism as a youth. Such a gift defied reason and logic, but then, so did the Packs’ very existence.

  With interest, Sam learned what she might be, and learned, too, of the limitations of her abilities. She could not heal anyone who did not want to live. She could not bring anyone back from the dead. And, most important, no one could force a healer to heal. In such an instance, the healer’s ability would not make itself manifest.

  By the time Luc and Sam stopped for lunch, she felt excited.

  “I never knew,” she told him, clutching one of the books while she munched on her cheese-and-steak sandwich. “All this time I had a purpose in life, and no one told me. So many years wasted.”

  Mouth full, he nodded, his gaze roaming over her face.

  Once they were back on the road, she resumed reading. When she’d finishing poring over the last book, she closed the cover and grinned at Luc. “Thank you.”

  Glancing at her, he smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

  Hours later, after they’d eaten supper at The Golden Arches and the sun had slipped to the edge of the horizon, they passed a sign welcoming them to New York State.