by Rose, Renee
All the while, I can’t stop kissing her. I bite her lower lip, lick her tongue, devour her. And when I sink into her wet heat, fireworks go off behind my eyes.
And they keep going off. I scythe in and out of her, every thrust a life-changing indulgence, every kiss a new promise.
Mine, the monster roars.
Mine, only mine.
Mine forever.
And Charlie’s in here somewhere still, knowing it’s not right, but I can’t stop the wolf. He gets what he wants, and he wants Annabel.
She has no chance in hell of not being claimed tonight.
Mine, mine, mine.
Oh God, she feels so good. It’s like I was born for exactly this moment. To be united with her, both body and soul. There’s a communion here—it’s so much bigger than sex. It’s galaxies and worlds and every tiny particle in the universe wanting us to be together.
I’m certain of it.
Nothing could break us apart.
I fuck her and fuck her and fuck her.
She tips back her head and screams, and I cover her mouth, drag my palm over her beautiful lips, drop my thumb between them.
She sucks it.
I get the other hand up her t-shirt, where it wanted to be all night and pinch and pull her nipples.
I’m going to fuck her all night. After this fucking, I’ll lick her to orgasm. Then I’ll tie her to the bed and torture every inch of her body with my tongue. I’ll keep her up singing, keep her screaming until the damn moon sets.
But then something momentous happens. Like a car crash or a rebirth. My body feels like it’s being torn apart and put back together at the same time.
The monster roars.
I come.
Annabel comes.
Happiness flows through me. Pure joy.
Then my tongue’s coated with blood, and Annabel’s scream pierces the night.
* * *
Annabel
Pain rips through me—a burning, gauging pain.
He bit me.
I don’t believe it, but Charlie flies back and lands onto his ass on the floor, blood dripping from oversized canines.
And his eyes.
Ice. Blue.
Just like the wolf in the stairwell. Like the wolf at the cabin.
Cold gooseflesh runs across my arms. No. It can’t be.
Werewolves don’t exist.
But there’s no other explanation. Charlie is a freaking werewolf!
And he bit me—the man I would’ve sworn this morning would protect me from anything.
“Get back!” I shout even though he’s already retreated. Hands shaking, I grab the Glock from my purse and cock it. Blood soaks my t-shirt around my right shoulder.
Flashes of what I’ve already seen run through my mind. Charlie’s need to go out alone for night runs. The wolf tearing at the door of the cabin. The wolf appearing in the stairwell while Charlie went off comms. It all fits.
I would’ve sworn nothing ruffles Charlie Dune, but right now, horror fills his eyes. He doesn’t look ready to attack. He seems afraid—of what he’s done.
“Shoot me,” he whispers.
My two hands shake as I aim the gun between his eyes. My breath comes fast and shaky.
“Do it,” he says, louder.
I try to keep a tough face on, but I feel one side of it crumple. I’m not a warrior like my dad or Charlie. I couldn’t shoot the wolf between the eyes when it tried to get to me at the cabin. There’s no way I can do it now when he’s in human form and afraid. But I know he’s not afraid of me. He’s afraid for me. And that’s the reason I keep the gun pointed.
“How long?” I shout. “How long have you been a wolf?”
“A month, I guess,” he mutters.
“You guess?” My voice rises in pitch. “What the fuck, Charlie?”
“I don’t know—maybe all my life. My dad was one. But I only started changing a month ago. After Honduras. I would’ve told you if I could’ve figured out how to make it sound believable in any way.”
“So, am I a werewolf now, too?” I can’t keep the wobble out of my voice.
Charlie wipes the blood from his lips. Remorse shows on every line of his face. “I don’t know.” His words are barely audible. “But you should put me down. Before I do it again.”
I swallow. “I already shot you once,” I rasp. “At the cabin.”
He points to the center of his forehead. “Put it here, Annabel.”
I should. Charlie Dune is out of control. He hurt me. He could hurt someone else. But killing isn’t in my wheelhouse.
“Do it!” he roars.
I jerk when he shouts, but I still can’t fire. A tear rolls down my cheek.
“Annabel, I’m a danger to you. I don’t know what else I might do. You need to shoot me. I’d rather you did it than someone else. Please.”
My finger tightens on the trigger.
But pulling it is an impossibility. Even when he’s yelling at me to do it.
My lips tremble. “Get up.” I gesture with the gun.
“Shoot me,” he whispers again.
“Get up!” I put some authority in my command.
Charlie scrambles to his feet and cleans up—taking off the condom, tucking his cock away in his jeans.
“Get out.” I point to the door with the gun.
“Annabel, I’ll just come back. I’ll find a way in. You’re like a drug to me.” He’s pleading with me. He wants me to put him down.
I can’t.
“Get. Out.”
Charlie walks to the door, opens it and steps through. “Lock this door, sweetheart,” he mutters as he shuts it tight.
* * *
Charlie
Oh lord, what have I done to Annabel? I wish to God she would’ve shot me.
I don’t experience fear. I learned to shunt that into power long, long ago. But I’m more afraid for Annabel than I’ve ever been.
I hurt her.
I hurt my beloved.
Annabel.
My mind replays what just happened. How deep the wounds were where they were located. How much blood left her.
No, the wounds aren’t fatal. If they don’t get infected, she’ll heal up, even without immediate medical intervention.
I stand on the porch and stare up at the moon.
What have I done?
The strange thing is, I have no urge to shift and run anymore. I’m calmer than I’ve been any night this week. More focused.
I climb into the truck we stole to get here. I’ll spend the night here, watching over her. In the morning, I’ll make myself invisible and follow her out, wherever she goes. I can’t leave her unprotected. Not until this mission is over.
But I also can’t put myself in the same room with her, either.
I’m a terrible danger to her.
* * *
Annabel
The shock of betrayal guts me even though I’m starting to believe Charlie couldn’t control himself. I don’t think he meant to hurt me.
I run for the bathroom and pull off my t-shirt to inspect the wounds. There are four puncture wounds, a half-inch deep.
Could’ve been worse. No major arteries. Not too much blood loss. I definitely feel woozy though.
I turn and heave into the toilet. The room spins. Oh God. Am I turning into a werewolf?
Will I start biting people at the full moon, too?
I stagger to the bedroom and fall down on the bed. My eyelids are heavy—too heavy to keep open. It’s like I’ve had a few too many drinks and I’m passing out still liquored up.
Yep, passing out…
* * *
I wake to a creaking floorboard.
Charlie?
Did he come back in? Of course, I locked the door, but Charlie Dune could get past any lock if he wanted to. I didn’t think he would though.
And yet, relief is not a strong enough word for how I feel at the idea he’s come back. It’s more like celebration. Like everything was o
ff in the world, and now it’s right again.
The doorknob to the bedroom turns slowly, and the hair stands up on my head.
It’s not Charlie.
My instincts take over, and I throw myself over the side of the bed, rolling under it just as the door creaks and swings wide.
Someone grunts and a body thuds to the floor.
Somehow, I stifle my scream.
The cabin shakes with gunfire in the living room. I crawl on my belly to retrieve the pistol on the night table. Based on the thuds and smacks of hand to hand combat, interspersed with gunfire from the front room, I think Charlie’s here, silently fighting to protect me.
I try to turn on the lamp by the bed, but nothing happens—the electricity has been cut. I get up and run for the door, just as the glass shatters in the bedroom window, exploding with gunfire.
“Annabel?” Charlie shouts as I drop to the floor.
“One assailant, firing from outside.” I’m amazed at how calm my report sounds.
Guns fire from the living room, and suddenly, Charlie’s in the doorway, lit by a swath of moonlight from the window. “Stay low. Get behind the bed.” I hear his soft footfalls and the crunch of glass as he runs to the wall beside the window and dodges out, gun leading. He fires twice, then drops the gun.
“Here.” I slide mine across the floor to him, assuming he’s out of bullets.
“Thanks.” He picks it up and fires three more times. “There’s at least two still out there. Three down.”
I crawl toward the closet, remembering the duffel bag of weapons. When I open the door, Charlie joins me. “You take the semi-automatic. Give me two more pistols.”
I yank them out with the magazines.
“Stay behind me.” He moves through the cabin stealthily, and I follow behind, holding the weapon in both hands.
Gunshots ring out the moment he kicks open the door. He yanks me up against the wall between the door and window. I count the gunshots. Eight. Ten. Fourteen. Fifteen.
“Stay here.” Charlie breaks through the door, a pistol in each hand, arms extended out straight in two directions. He fires four bullets.
One body drops.
“Cover me.” Charlie disappears, running toward the dirt driveway where he parked the car we stole.
I don’t really know how to do that, but I fire a round toward the trees in the direction away from where Charlie ran. God forbid I accidentally hit him.
Except wait—bullets apparently can’t harm him unless they’re between the eyes.
I hear fists smacking flesh, grunts, and strikes. I creep out of the cabin in their direction, swinging the gun right and left defensively.
Behind the vehicle, Charlie’s fighting with Director Scape.
“Don’t move,” I shout.
Both men ignore me. Charlie slams Scape up against a tree trunk and smacks his head against the wood.
“I kept you alive for this,” Charlie says and punches Scape in the gut.
“Oof.” He doubles over. “For what?”
“For Annabel. So, you can tell her the truth. Go on.” He pounds a right hook into Scape’s jaw.
Director Scape spits blood from his mouth and laughs. “The truth? The truth is whatever I want it to be. I run the fucking CIA.”
“Who killed my father?” I demand. It’s not the question I thought I would ask, but it’s the one that comes out.
Scape laughs. “I did. I killed your father when he disobeyed orders.”
I shouldn’t be holding this weapon. Because I am way too ready to use it. “What orders?” I grit between clenched teeth.
Charlie punches Scape again.
“He had orders to destroy the village. Restart the war. He didn’t comply. I had to go in and clean it up for him.”
“Who gave those orders? You?”
Scape gives another bloody smile. His hand flashes out before I realize I’ve stepped too close. He swings the butt of my weapon around to point at Charlie and squeezes the trigger.
Charlie grasps Scape’s head and breaks his neck, even as blood spurts out his shoulder and side.
“Charlie!” I scream.
“I’m okay. I’m fine.” He covers the wound in his side with his hand while he toes Scape’s limp body as if to make sure he’s really dead.
Apparently unconcerned with his bullet wounds, Charlie pulls his phone from his back pocket and hands it to me. The recorder is on—he got the whole confession.
“We’ve got it. You’re free now.”
* * *
Charlie
I take Scape’s phone and wallet and pocket them. I already searched the men inside the cabin. None of them carried IDs or phones. I need to find their vehicle.
I sniff the air. I’m getting better at identifying the different scents around me, and I don’t detect any new humans. I’ve dealt with them all.
I check the body of the guy I shot in the trees. He’s dead, no ID.
“Let’s get you inside,” I say carefully. Annabel hasn’t moved, and I scent her fear and shock. I don’t know if she will even let me in that cabin with her, but I have to at least make sure she’s unharmed. The urge to care for her is overwhelming. Once I know she’s safe, that she can safely return to her life and her family, I will leave. I need to get away from anyone I could hurt.
“Are-are they all dead?”
I smell only death. I nod. Even though the danger is over, my body is still tense. I’m wary of any further danger to my mate.
Mate? That’s a strange word choice.
I find their vehicle a hundred yards up the dirt road. It has the IDs and phones of the other men. I take them all. When I get back to the cabin, I flip the breaker in the electrical box. The lamp in the bedroom flares to life.
Annabel still hasn’t moved like she’s afraid to go in alone.
I walk to her, reaching out cautiously. She tumbles forward into my arms.
“Charlie,” she chokes.
“It’s okay.” I stroke her silky hair. “It’s over now. Everything is over.”
The scent of her blood from the wounds I inflicted stings my nose, making my chest collapse in on itself.
She sniffs, her tears wet against my neck. “Now what?”
I straighten, pulling away to wipe her tears. “Now you go in. Turn yourself into someone you trust. Make copies of that recording, so there’s no getting rid of you. You’ll be safe. Your sister and nephew can go home. You can go back to your job.”
Her lips tremble. “What about you?”
Damn.
I’d rather cut off my arm than leave Annabel. But I’m not safe for her.
“I’ll disappear.”
Pain creases her forehead. “What does that mean?”
“I need to get this wolf thing figured out. Before anyone else gets hurt.” My eyes fall on her blood-soaked shirt, and her fingers reach to lightly touch the bite marks.
“Are there others you can talk to? Find out how to get rid of it? Or what to do to eliminate the effects?”
I think of Jared and the wolf pack in Tucson. “Maybe.” I nod. “Yes. that’s where I’ll go first.”
“Where are they?”
I touch her nose. “I’m not telling you that, angel. Disappear means disappear.”
Her jaw firms and she lifts her chin. “I might be able to help. I’d like to help.”
I’m not sure how I keep standing. The earth seems to shake and crumble beneath my feet. I cup her nape and lean my forehead against hers.
“I’ll be sure to ask if I need anything,” I promise, but it’s a lie.
We both know this is goodbye.
Forever.
“What if I need you?” Her voice rises. “What if I turn into a wolf and start attacking people, too?”
“You know how to get a message to me.” All clandestine agents have servers we check for messages. I can keep checking mine even if I stay rogue. “I’ll message you with anything I find out that’s pertinent to your bite. I pr
omise.”
“So, this is it?” Her voice chokes, and I nearly drop to my knees.
I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “I love you, Annabel Gray.”
It seems important to tell her. Especially since I’ll never see her again. She should know the truth.
“Charlie,” she chokes.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. This wasn’t some mission hook up for me. It was about as far from that as it gets.”
Tears spill from Annabel’s beautiful gray eyes. “Me too.”
I cup her face with both hands and thumb away the tears.
“You need me, I’ll come. That’s a goddamn promise.”
“I know,” she chokes.
My eyes sting. “Good.” I pray to God she never needs me though.
No, that’s a lie, but I can’t even hope for another shot with Annabel. That fantasy will absolutely kill me.
I move in slowly, my lips hovering above hers. “Goodbye, Annabel.”
She darts in for a quick peck, then pulls away, turning her back on me. “Goodbye.”
11
Annabel
I drive out of the woods with my heart on the floor mat. Letting Charlie walk off into the sunrise nearly killed me. I wanted to run after him, offer to drive him someplace, give him a warm meal. But I know he needs none of those things. If there’s any guy who can survive on his wits alone, it’s Charlie Dune.
It’s probably stupid that I’m clinging to hope he’ll find some solution to his wolf problem and show back up in my life. Even without the wolf thing, the idea would be ludicrous. It’s not who he is. He’s a work-alone spy. A deadly government weapon.
He was never going to move in with me and start up a sweet little relationship. He was never going to stick around.
And I knew that from the get-go.
So, why then do I feel like I just jumped off a cliff and am lying flat on the desert floor below?
I grab a burner phone and call Sarah.
“Annabel!” she cries. “Please tell me we can leave this godforsaken cabin.”