by Kat Bostick
“More?” She asked when the plate was clean.
A tail wag meant “yes” to her. That interpretation could make their communication remarkably easy if only she paid enough attention to notice the other times he wagged his tail.
“You dig that bison, huh? Maybe I’ll buy a ranch and raise my own. You can live with me and cull the weaklings.” He cocked his head to look at her as he chewed.
“How did you end up out here? Did you run away from home? Sounds appealing. I should join you.” She chuckled. “Except I’m too old to run away from home. All of my plants would die. And running away wouldn’t solve anything. It would only make me more of a coward.” She blew out a defeated breath. “I thought my life would look so different right now. Obviously I’m not as powerful or useful as I hoped.”
Mari scooted up to her favorite tree. She had her eyes closed, probably in a failed attempt to hold back the tears that were wetting her cheeks. “Where are you from, Jas? I bet you have somewhere you belong. Maybe there’s even someone out there looking for you. I’m jealous, honestly. I don’t have anywhere I belong or anyone that I belong to.”
You belong to me. They were a pack now, he and his little witch. A strange pack but a pack nonetheless. Jasper decided it right then. Mari was correct in thinking that he had somewhere he belonged but wherever that was, it was lost to his mind and he may never be able to return. It was obvious that the divine brought them together for a reason and perhaps this was it. They were two weary souls, both adrift in the world with no clear path to follow. Someday they might find their way but even if they didn’t, at least they weren’t alone anymore.
Jasper cleaned the stray bits of food from his lips and crept over to her. She didn’t notice how close he was until he licked a salty tear from her cheek. Her eyes snapped open with a gasp.
“You’re sneaky.”
Your senses are broken. He answered.
“Just look at me.” She sniffled and wiped the spot where he’d licked with her thumb. “I’m sitting in the dirt, telling my problems to a wolf that ate two people. Why don’t you just get it over with and eat me too?”
Jasper flopped onto the ground beside her, frustrated but more at his situation than at her. Mari risked a quick pat on his shoulder. When he didn’t respond with the bite she seemed to expect, she repeated the touch and let her hand linger. Eventually her fingers became bold, delving deeper into his coat to trace his ribs. He let out a contented sigh and she smiled down at him.
Jasper was never going to eat his honeysuckle witch, even if she wanted him to.
Everything seemed to get better for the both of them after that day. As soon as the sun reached that point on the horizon where it flickered golden and drained, preparing to retire and let the moon begin her journey across the sky, the little witch skipped into the woods with a pack full of canned bison. She was always giddy to see him, matching his enthusiastic tail wiggles with a beaming smile.
“How are you today, Red?” She asked, crouching in front of him and scratching her fingers through the hair on his scruff in her standard greeting. If he was lucky she would follow the jostling with a peck on the snout. He very much enjoyed those kisses. Today, despite his patiently raised nose, she forgot his kiss. That was okay. He would find another way to earn one from her.
Or he could give her his own. Jasper licked her cheeks evenly on either side to make sure she knew he was happy to see her too.
“I brought you some extra treats today.” Mari’s heavy pack clunked on the ground at her feet.
Jasper might be a brutal hunter but he wasn’t against receiving treats. Unable to bridle his curiosity, he wiggled between her and the pack, plunking himself down in her lap and snuffling the bag. Mari grunted when the full weight of him bumped her torso but this time she didn’t topple over.
“You beast!” She laughed, snaking one arm around his ribs to zip the pocket up before he could shove his face inside and retrieve the treat that smelled suspiciously of elk. “What happened to your manners?”
Ah, so this was the game she wanted to play. Mari frequently inquired about his manners. Somehow she couldn’t grasp that he was man who was mostly wolf and didn’t have human manners like she did.
Wolf manners. He yipped, whirling to tackle her onto her back and pin her to the ground as he always did when she poked at him. Hunters don’t say please.
“Don’t you eat me, Jasper.” Mari giggled as he sprawled on top of her. “I won’t give you a treat if you eat me.”
You are the treat. He answered, tasting the sweaty skin on her neck and pretending to bite her shoulder as she attempted to roll away. Silly witch, she was never strong enough to free herself when he decided to eat her alive.
Once he’d left a satisfying lather on Mari’s face, he tilted his head to rub his chin and with it his scent on her neck and shoulders. This part never made her giggle like the licks did but she was patient and let him do it anyway. Not that she really had a choice with him on top of her.
The manners game was fun but eventually Jasper gave up mauling and marking the honeysuckle witch and hopped off so that he didn’t squish her. Sometimes he suspected she was pretending to be squished so he would let her go and she would win the game, but she was a small thing compared to him and he didn’t want to risk it so he relented if she insisted. Mari unzipped her pack with one hand while she wiped drool from her face with the other.
Jasper would have to give her a second marking before she left tonight in case she muddled his scent. That way if she did encounter other wolves they would know Mari was his pack and therefore under his protection. It felt odd to be protective of a witch—especially given his initial reaction to the scent of magic—but he was increasingly concerned with her safety. As the stronger of them it was his job to protect her and the territory they occupied.
And lately a prickle of an instinct gently nudged Jasper in warning. He couldn’t say how he knew there was an impending threat any more than he could explain how he knew when a storm was coming before the clouds gathered. It was the wisdom of the wolf and it never led him astray. Mari was lean and muscular so she was probably capable of fighting if she needed to but it hadn’t taken much for two human males to subdue her. One lone wolf would be more than she could chew on.
Deep down he always knew there were others of his kind because that was how he became the king of predators in the first place. A bite from a wolf the size of a mountain changed him forever. He couldn’t recall how many others existed but he knew that there were a lot of them and he sensed they weren’t far off.
The nearest of those wolves weren’t the pack brothers he was beginning to remember. Jasper didn’t know where his pack might be or if he still had them, only that they were far from here.
Mari was his only pack now. Just because she wasn’t a wolf didn’t mean she couldn’t be a pack sister. They hadn’t hunted together yet—he might have to teach her how—but they ate together, roamed the woods together, and when she didn’t leave before her yawns got too big, slept together under the safe embrace of tree shadows. Someday soon, when he was stronger and fatter, he could be the one to bring her food. A she-wolf would find that charming. Maybe a witch would too.
If only he could take on the skin of man—even for a few brief moments—to explain it all to her. Witches made for clueless pack mates.
Jasper was surprised by how often he craved his other form lately. For many moons he skulked along roads and ducked into meager woods on four paws. He had worn the wolf for so long that he barely remembered more than a glimmer of what it was like to be man. When was the last time he had hands? What were the last words he spoke? Where had his last change taken place? It was like a flash flood swept through his brain, carrying off some memories and leaving others a jumbled, muddy mess. How was he ever supposed to change back to the form of man if he couldn’t even recall the feel of it?
Something inside of Jasper was broken and he might never walk on two legs again. At least he enjoyed runni
ng as the wolf, hunting and joining Mother Moon in the serenity of night. And he had Mari. She made the man feel closer to the surface, more conscious. When she was near he could find purchase on the parts of himself that had previously been hard to grasp.
“Bison? Or lamb?” She asked, sneaking the bag away from him and quickly yanking two cans out before he could attempt to steal the contents again.
He was distracted from coherent thought after he nosed the bison and watched eagerly as she spooned the meat into a metal bowl. His kind had larger than normal appetites and hunger was by far his strongest driving force. It would be easier to focus if he could put on some weight. He went too long without significant meals to maintain the dense muscle that made up his lupine form. Mari gave him enough to fill his belly but he would need much more to regain what he’d lost.
The primal part of his mind was hyperaware of his hunger and the potential for it to make him weak. It was probably why he’d fallen into bloodlust when he killed Mari’s attackers. Hunger not only weakened his body, it weakened his willpower. There was wildness in the heart of man who was also wolf that wasn’t like their animal brethren. The wolf could be good—protective and loyal, a healer—and the wolf could be dark. Violence was built into his very core and it took strength to resist. When angered, the wolf wanted to rend and tear until the whole world was in bloody tatters.
Mari placed the bowl of bison on the ground and resumed her usual position propped up against a tree. There was a paper wrapped sandwich in her hand, the same meat and sweet bread as always. And, as always, she barely touched it, only nibbling the edges and eventually discarding the bread and finishing the meat alone. Like him, Mari was made up of lean muscle and she needed to eat to maintain that strength. He wasn’t sure why she ate like a bird but it bothered him. He shouldn’t eat his fill and grow strong while his pack mate went hungry.
For now, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Mari was markedly disinterested in the food she gave him and it disappointed her when he didn’t eat it. Jasper tried stubbornly waiting to eat until she finished the food that she brought for herself but that only caused her to reach for his bowl, provoking a possessive growl.
It spooked her when he growled—apparently witches couldn’t differentiate between warning and aggression—so he preferred not to do it. Underfed as he was, it was instinctive to guard his food. Somewhere in his skull were forgotten memories of a young man fatigued from malnourishment, changing his skin to that of a wolf with a plea for the beast to sate his bottomless appetite. The wolf didn’t cling to memories as the man did but in this instance, he would never forget that suffering.
Mari smiled teasingly and reached into her bag for the treat once his bowl was licked clean. He raised his snout and snuffled her impatiently as she moved in a deliberately slow fashion. Finally her hand reappeared from inside the bag with something long and brown.
“Do you like antlers? I read that they’re good for your dental health.” She waggled the antler in his direction. “No? You don’t want it? That’s fine. I’ll eat.” The rascally witch actually put one end in her mouth and closed her teeth around it.
Oh, she wanted to play this game? Jasper was good at this game. He lunged forward and locked his jaw on the other end of the antler. She removed it from her mouth and gripped it with both hands as he violently shook his head. The movement jerked her whole upper body but she didn’t release her hold. In fact, the smirking witch stood and took two steps to the side, attempting to take him with her. Instead, she nearly fell over when he remained unmoving.
Paws planted firmly in the earth, Jasper wrenched with his jaws. Mari clung tight with surprising strength. He bunched the muscles in his back legs, rearing for another hard jerk. Just as the full weight of his body lurched backwards, she let go. A wolf was a creature of grace and power, a creature to be feared. And yet, there he was, crumpled in a heap like a clumsy pup stumbling on ice. Mari doubled over, laughing so hard she snorted. She was also very lacking in grace in that moment.
Jasper huffed around the antler and righted himself. He flicked his tail haughtily at her as he trotted to the other end of the clearing to chew his treat in peace. Jasper couldn’t complain about others playing fair when he never did. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a faint sting of humiliation at being bested by a woman who couldn’t even finish a sandwich.
The antler kept his attention for some time. Meanwhile Mari returned to her tree and pulled a book out of her bag. She frequently read books while they sat together and he always wished that she would read them aloud. Jasper appreciated the dulcet tone of her voice and wanted to hear as much of it as he could. It was the only voice he heard besides his own internal narrator. And even if she wasn’t a practicing witch, there was a flicker of magic when she spoke.
Unlike the acrid, painful magic that swelled in his memory when he first scented her, this was peaceful. It soothed his soul and quieted the restlessness from being trapped both in his own body and in this tiny grove of trees. Jasper didn’t know what kind of magic Mari had in her blood but whatever it was, it was pure.
Tiring of the antler, Jasper trotted over to the witch, fully prepared to flop on top of her book so that she would focus on him instead. He stopped short when he noticed that, for the very first time, Mari removed her bulky sweater.
The heat and humidity were relentless and no evening breeze came to offer them relief. Evidence of the uncomfortable temperature glistened between her breasts. With the stealth and ease of a hunter, Jasper slunk over for a better look. She probably wouldn’t care if she caught him staring at her. After all, he was a beast in her eyes. As far as Jasper could tell, Mari was completely oblivious to the man part of man who was also wolf. Yet, that made him feel dishonest.
By no means was he leering at her, but he couldn’t claim the part that was man hadn’t roused at the sight of her sweat moistened skin or the rise and fall of her breasts with every breath. Mari was beautiful and not in a soft or subtle way. Her features were sharp, striking, and no doubt lethal to a man. Though the looks she gave him were sweet, there was a natural challenge in her eyes. Perhaps it was the slight wolfish energy that shone in that focused gaze or the color—like plates of copper oxidizing around the edges—that was not unlike the predatory amber of a natural wolf.
The little witch could benefit from a few hearty meals but her body was still powerful. She moved with a hunter’s grace, sinewy and lithe. Mari was built for speed, for sprinting through the forest and tumbling in the grass with him. As far as witches went, she made for a strong pack mate.
And if he walked on two legs, she would make for a great view, too. Jasper hadn’t been one to stare at women—that he could recall, anyway, which didn’t actually mean he hadn’t done it—but he was struggling not to stare at Mari. Whatever it was about her that dragged the man to the surface was heightened now. It was something in the scent of her sweat or the way that her solid muscle framed her feminine figure, highlighting all of the places he might like to squeeze.
Squeeze? Since when did he want to do anything to a person that didn’t involve teeth?
Since Mari became so enticing. A sudden longing for her to run hands over him and caress flesh, not fur, awakened in his chest. He wanted to feel her sun kissed skin slick against his. The man wanted to taste her in a way that was very different from the way the wolf wanted to. A shudder so violent it was almost painful rippled through him, followed by a familiar surge of power.
Jasper couldn’t change, he knew that. He’d tried until his joints ache. Yet, he was certain that if Mari were to look up from her book right then, she would not see the wolf. Mari didn’t look up, though. He tried to make a noise—a whimper, a growl, anything—with no success. His whole body was frozen in place. Finally, a sharp exhale made it out of his lungs, catching her attention.
The moment Mari glanced up, the feeling was gone. It evaporated so rapidly that Jasper could barely remember the sensations he’d been experiencing sec
onds earlier. The part that was wolf rushed forward, leaving the man tucked away in darkness and silence as he usually was. He briefly felt the desire to let out a mournful howl but he wasn’t entirely sure why.
“Bored already?” He lolled his tongue to the side in response. “You have a short attention span, Red.”
That was simply not true. No creature was more focused than a hunting wolf. With a satisfyingly full belly, however, there was no need to concentrate with predator’s intensity. Jasper would rather play. As he approached the little witch, fully intending to pounce on her, his gaze was drawn to her forearm. He hadn’t seen it since the night they met but he was aware of the tiny howling wolf tattooed on her wrist. What he hadn’t noticed that night was the tattoo on the other arm.
A series of indistinct shapes stretched from Mari’s left wrist to the inside of her elbow. He moved closer and nosed her arm, prodding her to let him look.
“What is it?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.
Jasper gently pinched her fingers with his front teeth and peeled them away from the book, tugging her arm onto her lap so that he could examine it. An odd prickle along his spine sent the hairs on his neck standing alert. Covering the length of Mari’s forearm was a depiction of the lunar phases, the full moon painted in blue-grey detail in the center. It was no coincidence that she marked herself both with the image of the wolf and the force that drove him. She wore symbols that represented children of Mother Moon, the ones who walked on two legs and four.
Fate could be a sly and fickle creature but her games always served a purpose. Jasper had yet to determine what game she was playing here but he believed Mari was a divine gift, sent to make him whole.
“Are you looking at my tattoo?” She sounded totally mystified. He licked over the full moon art and wagged his tail. “How is that…” she dropped her book and rubbed both hands over her face. “What are you?”
Jasper gave her upper arm a sharp nip to point out he was like her. He was man. And he was not. As usual, she didn’t quite grasp why he was biting her. She leapt to the side and shoved his snout away.