Half-Breed

by Marcia Colette

  "Well, Master of the House,” I quipped, “I suggest you lead on before I freeze my butt off out here."

  Matt stood on four strong legs and took up the point, or dominant, position. He was ready to face any dangers that awaited us, human or otherwise. As my mate, he took his job of protecting me very serious. Male chauvinism was another inbred trait, so I had to stroke Matt's ego from time to time. More than four years of marriage has taught us both to give a little and not expect the impossible. He loped through our backyard to the dense forest behind it. I followed at the pace he set.

  * * * *

  The following morning, the phone rang just as our lovemaking session came to a climatic close. I flipped the blanket down exposing the extent of my A-cup breasts. Matt slid down the length of my body, cowering from the chill in the room. Sweat drenched sheets stuck to us like molten snakeskin. I couldn't wait for the next round.

  Although the answering machine was all the way downstairs, we left the bedroom door open, making it easier for me to hear the messages. Mom called, doing her usual weekly check and asking the proverbial question: “Any kids yet?” After a bout of fantastic sex, I wouldn't be surprised if one of his wriggling seeds broke through my birth control defenses. Not that we would mind.

  Matt nudged against my stomach, placing gentle kisses around my naval. The tip of his tongue flecked out, licking the orifice as though it were leftover batter. I didn't know about him, but I needed a few more minutes before we picked up where we left off. His ticklish tongue left me laughing and pushing away from him. Okay, maybe a few seconds. He rested his head on my stomach with his lower body lying between my legs.

  "You gonna to call her back?” Matt asked from underneath the covers.

  "Later. Otherwise she'll keep me on the phone for hours.” My fingers smoothed through his black-swan soft hair.

  "Are we still going out to dinner and the play tonight?"

  "Yeah. Unless you had something else in mind."

  His hands hooked around the back of my thighs. “What do you think?"

  I laughed. “Good Lord, man! You're wearing me out!"

  The doorbell rang, shattering our moment of intimacy. Matt cursed underneath the blanket.

  It couldn't be someone from the Georgia Pack, could it? They wouldn't attack in daylight, so my fears should be unfounded. Right? Right?

  "I'll go.” I needed to prove to myself that it was all in my head.

  A soft, yet firm, hand touched my stomach. “No, I'll go. You stay just like that. I want to pick up where I left off."

  Matt kissed my stomach before slipping backwards underneath the sheets and blankets and stopping. His face came down, nuzzling my pubic area. Shrilling laughter broke from my lips and I nearly kneed him in the chest. A throaty chuckle before he continued sliding backwards and over the mattress edge. Matt stood, dark eyes grazing every exposed nook and cranny of my body. Dimples indented his cheeks as a huge wattage smile curved his thin lips. When he finished, he winked and turned for the bedroom door.

  "Wait!” I shouted, almost bolting upright. “You can't answer the door like that. You want the neighbors thinking we're a bunch of perverts or something?"

  Matt returned to the edge of the bed where he placed his hands on the blanket and leaned onto his extended, athletic arms. “You're right. Stupid me, I forgot.” One yank and he tore everything away from my body.

  My mouth hung agape. The cold air slammed against my sweaty skin, inciting gooseflesh to ripple across my body and harden my nipples. I smirked without ever moving an inch.

  "Damn honey, you moved. Look at your tits.” Matt gathered the blanket around his shoulders.

  "Why you son of a—” I grabbed the pillow next to my head and flung it at him. Between the laughing and the heat rushing my cheeks, my composure fizzled.

  Matt chortled as he turned, headed out the door, and thumped down the stairs.

  Shifting on the mattress, I placed my hands behind my head and gazed at the ceiling without really seeing it.

  Was normalcy a possibility or were we just kidding ourselves? With Matt being a werewolf and me being half, our lives stood a lousy chance of ever being normal. The same went for our children and our children's children. Given our genetic makeup, a pack would be the best place to raise a child, but I wanted something that represented a sense of community and family. Not the insane asylum that Parry bred in Boston. We knew nothing of the Georgia Pack, and with the way they'd rubbed us so far, I wanted no parts of them. If anything, they wouldn't want any part of us once they found out about the Parry situation.

  Although Matt would never admit it, I shouldered some of the blame for him being ostracized from the world he loved so much. He put up an excellent front for my sake, but I knew him better. We stopped going to zoos because we always sought out the wolf display first. The longing in his eyes tore a hole in my heart. Wolves, whether in the wild or the zoo, represented the camaraderie and the comfort of a werewolf family he so desperately wanted but rarely discussed with me. A part of me wished he had taken up with Dane and gotten to know him like I did. Assuming they could leave their testosterone aside and make an attempt at peace. Then again, who was I kidding? Here it was I had walked away from the Club.

  The wolves in the Hunting Club never considered themselves pack because their need for revenge created a superficial bond that could never measure up against the bond of a real pack. My instincts required something deeper, more concrete than getting together a weekend or two out of the month for hunting and drinking celebrations afterwards. They were my friends and nothing more. They let their human emotions get in the way of the purpose behind the hunt, whereas I had learned how to tap into my ingrained survival instincts. We worked at opposite ends of the street, trying to score the same basket. If the spirit of our hunts involved nurturing the nature of our beasts, then Dane would have a true pack on his hands. I'm not sure if Dane even knew what having a pack meant or how it could change the lives of the Hunting Club werewolves for the better. The mechanics behind forming one, and keeping it healthy, escaped him. Being the Club founder, the presidency suited him just fine.

  Matt's muffled footsteps creaked up the stairs. Blocking his face as he entered the bedroom, a dozen red roses dotted with dancing baby's breath filled a crystalline vase. Not the typical threat you'd get from a pack that wanted you out of their territory.

  "Where did that come from?” I asked.

  "Kristen.” He placed them on the dresser along with a card. “She sent them to cheer you up."

  I pursed my lips and shook my head. “More likely to get you on her good side so she can sue the pants off mall security."

  "Enough about Kristen,” he said, crawling back into bed. His warm, naked body slithered against mine. Grinning, he kissed me. “I've got more important things on my mind."

  I returned his grin. We pulled the blankets over our heads and continued where we left off. Our bodies vined up together while sultry kisses passed between our lips. Looping his arm around my waist, he turned me over so that I could ride him during the next round. His hands slipped down to my rear where fingers kneaded my oily skin. His heated cock erected itself right against inner thigh. Good lord, did he feel thick!

  The phone rang again.

  "Let the machine get it,” Matt said, sliding his lips across mine.

  I flipped the blanket back so our heads stuck out. Breathing heavy, I replied, “At least let me hear the message."

  The prerecorded female voice came on, suggesting the caller leave their name and a brief message, promising we'd return their call. People should have known by now that we acted on our own discretion. If we cared, we'd call. If not, you're out of luck. A voice resounded over the speaker.

  "We need to talk,” the male voice said.

  Matt froze, eyes flicking wide before narrowing tight. That look alone told me all I needed to know. It was Stephan Carlisle.

  He continued, “I was hoping to meet your wife over a cup of coffee o
r lunch. Honestly. If we meant you any harm, I wouldn't be talking to this machine."

  He hung up.

  I looked down at Matt. “He found our unlisted phone number. How much do you want to bet his pack knows where we live?"

  No answer.

  Sighing, I lay my head on my husband's chest, listening to his jack-hammering heart, knowing my metabolism could never catch up to his. Matt tightened his grip on my waist, holding me for the longest time. Neither one of us was in the mood for much beyond that.

  Chapter 5

  Stephan had given us a reprieve. That was more civilized than either of us had expected. He could have sent his entire pack through our backyard and torn us from our foundation. By all rights, the Georgia Pack could do whatever they wanted because we didn't own the land. We weren't only tenants of a human landlord but tenants of the pack. All the dreams we had and money we saved didn't mean anything. In the wolf world, we shared in whatever the pack owned. Without a pack, we had nothing.

  Despite our not having much of a choice, Matt abhorred the idea of them meeting me. Being asked to leave their territory felt better than being chased out. However, they still needed my husband for the court case. They would throw us out once it was over ... or worse.

  To be on the safe side, Matt spent the next few hours mapping out a route to Clearwater, Florida—beyond that if necessary—while I rechecked our bags.

  Matt did all the talking as he made arrangements for our meeting at the Botany Café. Afternoon coffee, tea, and civilized chitchat. Yeah, right. It crossed my mind so many times to tell Stephan that we weren't leaving unless he put contracts on our heads. Matt warned me if this meeting went sour because of something I said, he'd make me walk to Clearwater.

  The moment my husband opened the café door, my eyes drifted over the human crowd and locked onto the werewolves sitting away from the general population. My nose should have picked them up first, but in this case, vision overshadowed my other senses. Matt moved into his protective point position, took my hand, and guided us across the black and white checkerboard floor. Waitresses wearing black spandex and white sweatshirts with the café logo on them hustled around us, carrying large trays of food to waiting customers. One waitress, carrying two plates of steaming vegetables for fajitas, stepped directly into our path. Matt remained so focused on the werewolves that even the smell of food couldn't waver his attention.

  Approaching the table, I noticed a deep luster sparkling in Stephan's emerald irises. Overgrown strands of dark brown hair bowed to touch his eyelids, giving him a stylishly messy look. Thin lips parted for a set of perfectly white teeth and added a touch of fullness to his high cheekbones. Underneath his khaki polo shirt, he had the same chiseled muscles as Matt. Keeping his ever-present smile in place, he dislodged his arm from around the female sitting next to him and stood.

  The rail-thin woman remained seated with a grin similar to that of her ... boyfriend? No ring, but they were obviously something to each other. Hmmm, a buttered-cinnamon complexion. She must have belonged to a minority group like me. Long black hair draped passed her shoulders, disappearing behind her back. A smile crawled up her perfectly rounded face the moment her dark eyes settled on me. Sitting down, I think I had her by an inch or two in height. She wore a pair of faded jeans and a cream-colored, button-front sweater with matching camisole underneath.

  The men exchanged a cordial handshake, though it looked like the tension had stiffened Matt's shoulder despite Stephan's friendly demeanor. Reaching behind him, Matt slipped his arm around my shoulders and ushered me forward. I extended my hand to Stephan.

  Oh my gosh! Talk about body heat. His baby-soft skin warmed my palm in a way that was so different from my husband's that it made my stomach clench. Normally, the beast sleeping inside me responded to only Matt's touch, but it had awoken with ears pointed high and head tilting in curiosity and amazement. How could a stranger's simple touch stir up so much amazement and fear inside me?

  Stephan didn't let go. Sad to say, I didn't want him to. He turned my knuckles up and suckled a kiss on the back of my hand. Still not letting go, he guided my hand to that of his friend, Aiyana Reeves, and introduced us.

  The same feeling rekindled itself, more intense than the first time. This time my visceral wolf rose on all fours in a moment of excitement, ready to play. It was a good thing that people were around to keep me grounded. Otherwise I'd have most likely darted around them on all fours, ducking my head in quick jerky movements, blurring the lines between curiosity and play.

  When she released my hand, Matt stepped up to her and returned a similar kiss out of courtesy.

  He bumped into me as he pulled away, his eyes meeting mine. “You okay?” A protective arm went around my waist.

  I shook my head, realizing that I left my arm still bent at the elbow and hand extended. I recomposed myself. “Yeah. Sure. Fine."

  It took me a moment to brush the lingering feelings away and get down to the business of food. Matt's careful gaze stayed on me until a smile perked my lips.

  We ordered first. Matt ordered two club sandwiches for himself before turning the dumbfounded waitress over to me. She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head, pen pointing between the two of us. As with anyone who didn't know any better, she assumed I was eating one of those sandwiches. I ordered a Caesar salad and handed her my menu. Our companions stared at me and asked if that was all I wanted. I guess they didn't know that my being half werewolf meant I had half their appetites. Stephan shook his head in disbelief before ordering two roast beef sandwiches with all the trimmings. Aiyana settled for grilled chicken sandwiches. Good to know that the tension hadn't spoiled their hearty appetites.

  Stephan kept the conversation light, inquiring about our backgrounds and leaving the courtroom stuff out of the exchange. Matt summarized our lives without any sugar coating or romanticizing, answering only the questions that were put forth. Since it looked as though we had invaded their territory, they had every right to know about us. We could have sat at the table talking about ourselves for the rest of day and they wouldn't have to divulge one piece of information in return. Both Stephan and Aiyana sat and listened, interrupting once or twice for clarification.

  "So what about you?” Stephan asked with a slight ruggedness to his voice.

  "Me?"

  "Of course. It's not everyday that we meet a human hybrid.” He smirked, his eyes dazzling underneath his overhung bangs, and stared at Matt. “You didn't say she was part human and part werewolf."

  Matt shrugged. “You didn't ask. You only wanted who she was. Not what."

  Shaking his head, Stephan chuckled. “Touché. But I also understand why you'd keep her secret.” He turned his attention back to me. “So how about? What's the story behind those beautiful eyes?"

  My jaw hung. Flattery was certainly this guy's strong suit. Sad to say, it was working. I lowered my face just in time to gain control of the heat spewing into it. “There's not that much to tell. We grew up poor in Albany, New York. A ton of student loans got me through four years of college. I met Matt in Boston where I worked. Both my parents are still alive and I'm close to my sister. On my mom's African-American side, I have two uncles who have a butt load of children between them. My dad is Navajo with a tad of Cherokee in him.” A picture of Uncle Graham flashed in my brain, but my lips remained sealed. Anything associated to the Hunting Club I shoved in the dark corners of my brain, never to be brought to light.

  Stephan dropped his head in a sigh before lifting it and grinning at me. “I was referring to the deformity in your werewolf genes."

  "Deformity? Do I look deformed to you? Ouch!” Matt pinched me under the table. I scowled at him.

  Stephan held his hands up in defense. “I didn't mean it that way. I'm only saying that you're not one of us and yet you are. As irresistible as your scent is, we can't help seeing you as an anomaly. What we make of it depends on how well you present yourself."

  Jerk. I hesitated long enough to ree
l in my temper. “My paternal grandfather is a werewolf. That makes my father a human hybrid. My mother's human."

  "But you're more than a quarter werewolf,” Aiyanna replied. She wrinkled her nose at me. “More like half."

  "That's because my grandfather bit me when I was five years old."

  Stephan sat stunned on the bench and Aiyana's eyes went wide. Their shocked expressions said enough. A five year old doesn't survive a wolf attack. Coroners have to use DNA and dental records to identify the shredded remains. I'd witnessed it several times during my Hunting Club years.

  Werewolves attack humans because they want food. Those who survive are only delaying their inevitable deaths. Werewolves will stalk, waiting as long as it takes to finish off their weakened prey.

  "Is your rogue grandfather still alive?” Aiyana asked.

  "Yes.” I didn't bother asking how she knew he was a rogue. The heinous act of biting a child told her as much. “He lives out west somewhere. Probably causing havoc wherever he goes. Last time I heard, he got himself thrown in a mental institution in Idaho. During one of his rages, he almost killed three men in human form. Grandfather broke out less than a week later and no one's seen him since."

  "What about your sister?” Stephan asked, then eyes downcast. “Is she...?"

  "Genevieve is a quarter, if that's what you mean.” I appreciated his reluctance to talk about such a delicate subject matter. Twenty-five years later or not, one doesn't overcome that kind of horrific betrayal.

  "Who saved you from your grandfather?” Aiyana asked.

  I sighed. This conversation was wearing on me. “I don't call it saved. Dad broke into our bedroom right before Grandfather could take a chunk out of Genevieve. A few months later, he left a note at the auto mechanic's shop where my father worked, explaining why he did it. He wanted full-blooded heirs."