I ran my hands up her thighs, pushing the soft folds of her sundress up, and she threw her head back. I nuzzled her neck with my nose, smelling the sweet scent of her skin, the floral smell of her shampoo…and I stopped. I stepped back, my heart racing in my chest. All of my senses were turned on into top gear. I ran a hand over my close-cropped hair as I looked at her, the top of her dress pulled dangerously low, and the hem of her dress pulled up to a scandalous point. She looked absolutely tantalizing. Any man would give his right arm to be in this situation with this woman. She was frowning.
“What’s wrong?”
“We shouldn’t do this.” She sighed and looked away.
“I won’t let it interfere with my work,” she said in a low voice. “We’re two adults, in a very isolated situation…it was bound to happen, I guess.”
“No…it’s not…”
“Are you and Soraya…”
“No…we never…” I exhaled. “This is not a good idea.” She looked at me, her head to the side.
“Why?” It was such a simple question, and I ached to give her an answer—the true answer. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see the look on her face when she found that I was a monster.
“You don’t know how dangerous…it would be.”
“Explain that to me.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to do this without you.” She was going to go, of course. I probably sounded absolutely crazy.
“I’m not leaving.” I nodded, and walked out of the room. As I fled down the hallway, buttoning my shirt as I went, I could hear her footsteps behind me, trying to keep up. I took the stairs in twos, reaching my bedroom, and locking the doors behind me. I heard her knock once against the door, and then let out a deep sigh. I pressed my ear against the door, listening to her breathing as she leaned against the other side. I remained where I was, listening as her footsteps traveled the length of the hallway.
Chapter Twelve
I didn’t see Michael for the rest of the day. I tossed and turned until late in the night, unable to fall asleep. I was confused and sexually frustrated. I wanted him, and I was angry with him at the same time. He was totally shutting me out. I finally fell asleep after the night was well progressed, only to be awoken the next morning by my phone ringing. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Jennifer Hart?” It was a woman’s voice. Older, professional.
“Speaking,” I looked at the clock beside my bed—the red numbers spelled out 4:55.
“Hi, I’m calling from SUNY Downstate Medical Center,” the woman said. “Your sister, Julie, has been in a car accident. As next of kin, we will need you to come.”
“Oh my god. Is she okay? Is she awake? Is she asking for me?”
“No. She is in a medically-induced coma. She has some pretty severe injuries, but the ER doctors have stabilized her and sent her to the OR. The prognosis is yet unknown. She was in pretty bad condition when she came in.” My heart was racing. I got as much information as I could before I ended the call with the nurse, who promised to contact me if and when anything changed. I needed to tell Michael that it was an emergency situation. I got dressed and packed a bag, writing a note to Mary, and slipping it beneath her door. I scribbled my cell number on it so that she could call me.
I walked to Michael’s suite, knocking briskly on the door. I was greeted with silence. I knew that he was definitely inside; he never worked during the night. He was always in his room by five o’clock in the evening, and didn’t come out until seven o’clock in the morning. I sighed heavily. He was ignoring me, if anything, and I just didn’t have the time or the patience to play games. Julie needed me.
I tested the door knob. It was locked. I pulled out my wallet, sliding the credit card that Michael had given me out. I slid it in between the door and the lock, manipulating the card and the knob at just the right time—I had learned this trick through raising my siblings. Sometimes, in our overcrowded apartment, one of them would lock the rest of us out of the single bedroom, for “privacy,” while they spoke on the phone or journaled. When they overstayed their private time, I would sometimes have to jimmy the lock in order to break in so the rest of us could go to sleep.
The lock clicked open, making a chiming sound, and I walked in. The room was dark, and I could make out a messy tangle of sheets on the massive, four poster bed…but there was no one asleep in it. I frowned and turned the light on. The room was empty. It was modern, sleek—a high tech bachelor pad.
“Michael?” I asked, then paused as I realized that this was the first time that I had referred to my employer on a first name basis. I was greeted by silence. This was ridiculous. I crossed the room to what I assumed was the closet, turning the knob and opening the door.
It was a large, walk-in closet, with bare racks and empty shelves. Taking up most of the space was an enormous, rebar cage that had been battered severely. Inside of the cage, Michael Thompson, my stern employer, was curled up on the floor, asleep…and naked. Wounds covered his flesh, some were fresh, and others were scars several years old, yet massive and twisted. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth in shock.
Michael woke with a start. I began to back away as his eyes opened. He was shocked to see me, and he reached out a hand, as though to stop me.
“Wait,” he rasped, as though he had screamed for weeks. I ran, closing the door to both
the closet and the suite behind me. I ran to my room, packing everything. I had to leave. I had thought that he was strange, but now I knew too much—or did I? Was it a fetish? Was it…what?
I couldn’t desert Mary. I didn’t feel like she was in danger, but I also couldn’t let her be raised by someone so obviously…out of touch. As I finished packing my things, Michael, dressed (thankfully), in a t-shirt and boxer shorts, entered my room. He closed the door behind him, and I put out a hand.
“Leave that open.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?” I placed my hands on my hips. “Because I honestly don’t know what to think, and I honestly don’t have the time.”
“It’s—” He stopped, sighing.
“Look, my sister is in the hospital. She’s in critical condition, and I have to go be there with her. I can’t deal with your weird…whatever.” I picked up my bags. Michael stood there by the door, a concerned look on his face.
“You’ll come back, won’t you?” his voice was soft.
“I can’t think about this right now.” I moved to pass him, but he stood in my way. He made as though to caress my face and I flinched.
“I…I won’t touch you. It has nothing to do with you,” he said. “But I need you. Mary needs you. Promise you will come back.” I looked at the floor, but I nodded. I believed him. And I would come back.
“I will come back. For Mary’s sake.” He nodded, and let me pass.
Chapter Thirteen
I sat down in the chair beside my sister’s bed. My other siblings had gone to get some sleep, having been nearer to SUNY. Julie looked so young, almost swallowed up by the hospital bed. She had inherited my mother’s smallness—she was slim and willowy, while the others and I were curvy and built like our fathers (Yes, fathers. Our mother got around). I reached forward, taking her delicate, pale hand that had bluish bruises already forming.
“Hey Jules,” I said. “You’re almost out of the woods, baby. Just keep walking back to me, okay?” I hoped for an answer that wasn’t coming. In order to help her heal, she was still in a medically-induced coma, and would be for a few more days.
“I have been through some weird stuff since we last talked,” I said, brushing her bangs back on her forehead. “You know, Michael Thompson is way weirder than we thought. I think he actually likes me.” I smiled, realizing that, despite the cage, I cared about him. I missed Mary, and wondered what that kid was up to. Now that I was at my sister’s side, I could relax a little. I was where I could be effective. She was still breathing. There was no i
nternal bleeding at the moment, and she was stable. There was nothing that I could do but wait. I pulled my phone out of my bag, and dialed Michael’s number. He answered immediately.
“Hello?”
“Hi…Michael,” I said, deciding to be brave and speak to him familiarly.
“Jennifer. How is she?”
“She’s stable. In a medically-induced coma, so we won’t know how her brain is until she wakes up.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good news. Not great. But, considering…” he trailed off.
“How’s Mary?”
“Concerned about you. But she’s keeping Soraya busy.”
“You should read to her. We’re in the middle of the fifth Harry Potter book.”
“I’ll let Soraya know.”
“No,” I said, “You should do it. She’s always talking about how you used to spend time with her. She would love it if you read to her.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding surprised. “Okay. I think I will.”
“Good,” I said, smiling at the thought of them reading together. “Well, I should get going. Just wanted to let you know that I got here in one piece.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” he said, his voice still sounding tentative.
“It’s okay, Michael,” I said. “I don’t understand, but it’s okay.”
“Thank you,” he replied, exhaling.
Julie woke up on the third day. She was fine. My siblings and I had a small reunion of sorts, all three of us crowding around Julie’s hospital bed. It took two weeks for her to heal enough to leave the hospital, and I went with her, back to the apartment that I had set up for her using my funds from my nanny job. I sat on the couch, exhausted from maneuvering her wheelchair through the tiny elevator. She rolled over to me.
“I’ve hired a home-health nurse,” she said.
“That’s enterprising of you,” I replied sarcastically. “With whose money?”
“Yours,” she smiled sweetly. That was the thing about Julie—she was definitely the spoiled youngest. “You need to go back to them.”
“Excuse you?”
“I heard you talking to him, like, every day,” she said pointedly. “It’s obvious that you care about him. You talk about Mary like she’s an absolute angel.”
“But what about you?”
“With your salary, we can afford the nurse,” she said. “You have to go back.” I smiled at her. Of course she had listened to my phone conversations with Michael. I had spoken to him every day, the conversations stretching on longer and longer as my absence progressed. He had asked, every day, at the end of the conversation if I was coming back to him.
“I guess I have a call to make.” She rolled her eyes, then rolled away in her wheelchair.
“Hello?” Michael answered on the first ring.
“I’m coming back,” I said.
“She’s coming back,” he yelled, and I could hear Mary in the background, her tiny voice celebrating. “When?” He was speaking to me.
“As soon as I can get a flight,” I replied.
“I can set up a private jet for you,” he offered. “I’ll have a car service pick you up in the morning.”
“Okay. Then I can drive the car that I took from Chatsworth back to the house. It is still at the airport, right?”
“Should be,” Michael replied.
We spoke for a little longer, happily looking forward to the next day. Speaking to him for the past two weeks, I had realized how truly I cared for him.
Chapter Fourteen
I was feeling antsy—I had texted Michael when I had gotten on the private jet that I would get in at two, but we hadn’t taken off until late. It was now 5:30 PM, and we were just taxiing on the runway, making our arrival at the tiny airport in western New York State. I jiggled my foot nervously. Michael would have already gone into his strange chamber by now, unless…he would have waited for me, right?
When the plane finished taxiing and I finally had a signal on my cell, I sent him a message.
Plane was delayed. Finally got in.
The flight attendant handed me my luggage, and thanking her, I walked down the staircase and onto the tarmac. The airport really was tiny—I walked from the tarmac to the parking lot in under ten minutes, placing my phone in the glove compartment. I was a safe driver—never leaving out any distractions, like my phone.
I was driving back in the Camaro, driving along the back roads to get to Chatsworth. I took the drive through Ashford without stopping. I didn’t want to risk running into Damien. I wondered how he knew Michael, and why their relationship, if it could be called that, was so strained. My thoughts drifted toward Michael, the man who seemed to have won my heart entirely.
What I couldn’t understand or let slide was the cage…and why he seemed to have so many injuries. Was he hurting himself for some reason? Was it a cry for help? I needed to get him to open up to me. If we were going to be together—which is what he seemed to want, then he was going to have to tell me everything. I was willing to give him time, but he was going to have to explain everything down to the last detail.
I watched as the sun began to set behind the trees that covered most of this area of New York state. The woods looked black against the vibrant oranges and pinks of the sunset. I remembered my first impression of these woods—like the ones from Snow White, threatening and personified, trying to ensnare me. Now, I felt like I was driving home. As it grew dark, I switched my high beams on. I knew that deer were everywhere in this area, so I didn’t want to accidentally hit any.
Regardless, I barely had any time to hit the brakes when something jumped in front of the car. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it was huge; a giant mass, crouching in the road. I swerved to miss it, causing the car to spin, crashing sideways into a tree on the side of the road.
I hyperventilated, inhaling and exhaling rapidly, trying to calm myself. Glass from the driver’s side window had cut me on the side of my face, and I had contact injuries from my seatbelt. Something heavy landed on top of the car, denting the ceiling inward, and I screamed.
I froze in fear as I realized that it was walking on top of the car. I looked around me for something that I could use as a weapon. The front window shattered, and I found myself facing an enormous wolf, its hand-like claws reaching for me. It snarled, saliva dripping from its jaws. I tried to duck away from its grip, but I had nowhere to go since I was trapped in the smashed Camaro.
I thought about my life, so far. I thought about my family, even my mother, with fondness. I thought of Mary, and I thought of Michael—my second family. Just then, another wolf charged the first, knocking it off of the car in a roiling mass of limbs, teeth, and claws.
I exhaled, getting myself together. I needed to act immediately. I tried the car—it was dead, broken in the crash. Hoping that the wolves were distracted, I unbuckled my seatbelt, crawling through the passenger side door, landing on the ground on my knees. I got up quickly, sprinting. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, and I felt like I was on fire.
I had gotten less than ten feet from the car when one of the wolves tore out the throat of the other. I turned when I heard the one whimper, and saw a stream of red and one wolf standing over the other, gore dripping from its mouth. My stomach dropped in fear as it looked in my direction. I began to run, faster, as the wolf bore down upon me. It reached me, and it moved its head, nuzzling my arm. I stopped, stunned. I looked at it—it stood on two hind feet, like a man. It had midnight-black fur, and ice-blue eyes.
“You want me to come with you?” I asked in shock. The man-wolf nodded, and began to walk along the road. I followed, and it waited a few feet ahead for me to catch up. We walked in silence through the night. I was unsure of what to do. I needed to thank this…being for saving my life. We were in sight of Chatsworth House when the sun began to rise. The wolf paused, beginning to shift, and before I knew it, Michael stood before me, bleeding from various injuries inflicted by the other wolf-man. He looked at me war
ily, but I ran to him, wrapping my arms around him. I stood on my tiptoes, kissing him passionately.
“Mine?” he asked.
“Yours,” I replied. He smiled broadly, for the first time. He picked me up off of my feet, and carried me towards Chatsworth House.
Epilogue
Placing me on the bed, he began to run kisses down my neck, unbuttoning the blood-splattered blouse that I had been wearing. I took his face between my hands, bringing him back to my mouth, kissing him deeply. I sat up, helping him to remove my shirt. I reached forward, cupping him in the palm of my hand and feeling him stiffen. He inhaled sharply, taking my bra and ripping it, before throwing it aside. I laughed huskily as he did the same to my pants—I should have known my clothing wouldn’t survive sex with a werewolf.
He looked at me, running his hands along my sides, and goosebumps rose along my skin. I leaned back into the bed, arching my back, and letting him slide my panties off. I could feel myself responding to him as he cupped my mound, feeling the wetness of my desire for him as he slowly entered me.
I moaned as he began to pump, rotating his hips so that he was hitting against my most sensitive parts. He placed a large hand on my stomach, and ran the flat of his palm upwards. I felt myself building—it was kinetic.
He began to pump harder, and I felt myself coming undone in waves, crying out as we reached crisis together.
Michael held me tightly in his arms, our bodies entwined beneath the sheets. I lay with my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat beneath my ear.
“I was bitten three years ago,” he said, “by a werewolf who disappeared from the area shortly after. He either returned every few years, or was able to go dormant. I only knew because he would commit carnage that I would have to worry I would be hunted for. I couldn’t figure out who he was or why his pattern was so strange. I believed that he was either a migrant worker, or wealthy enough to travel often. It wasn’t until you introduced Damien to me that I figured anything out.”
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