by Unknown
"I'm sure. Beat it."
I watched him approach the others tentatively, and after a moment of them sorting out their wolfly differences, Olberich tossed him a cue and racked the balls. It wasn't long before Toby relaxed, unhunching his shoulders and kidding around with the others, laughing. Dierk's eyes followed each of his wolves, surveying the room and his pack as he evaluated each one.
"Thanks," I said.
Dierk tilted his head toward me when I spoke.
"Oh. That?" He jerked his head toward Toby. "Nothing. He needs to be socialized. He will benefit from it. He'll grow confident, better able to care for himself."
Those were my biggest fears when it came to Toby. Dierk surprised me by telling me exactly what I needed to hear; considering I never confided in him about Toby, I could safely assume it was the truth. I pulled up my steadiest poker face and kept my thoughts to myself. I'd hate for Dierk or anyone else to try to use Toby against me. "He's young. He could use an ego boost."
"He is welcome within my pack and will always find shelter in our den."
I smiled in spite of myself. "There you go, all poetic again."
His eyebrows lifted. "How so?"
"Things you say, the way you say them. It's not modern. You sound like an old king." I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth.
Dierk grinned and stretched his arm along the back of my chair. "Thank you for noticing."
"Jackass," I muttered, and chuckled in spite of myself.
"That's King Jackass to you."
I laughed and picked up my glass. "Anything you say, Majesty."
The rest of the night passed faster than usual, probably due in large part for the alarming number of lagers I'd consumed. At ten of two the overhead lights pulsed in a notice of last call. Way past time to go.
"I think…" Dierk steadied my chair when I nearly toppled it in an effort to stand. "I will drive you home. Olberich will follow in my car."
"No, that's not necessary." I'd dropped my purse and had to fight through my hair to find the damned thing when I bent over to retrieve it. Standing straight again, I pushed my bangs back and blew at the straggling strands. Drunk hair sucked. "Toby will take me back."
"You don't drink bier very often, do you?" Dierk watched me struggle with my jacket for a few moments before intervening. I didn't want his help, but then again, I feared someone might have sewn the sleeves shut for all the trouble I had. He eased it up onto my shoulders and straightened the collar with a deft swipe. Gallant jerk.
"I drink plenty. I'm just no good at it. Unlike some people, apparently. How many did you have?"
"Not enough to join you in your antics, but more than enough to enjoy watching them."
I huffed out a breath again and swatted him. "What a prince you are. Where's Toby?"
He steadied me with a hand on my back, steering me toward the door. "Toby has found friends. Let him stay with my pack tonight."
"Uh-uh. Not after that crap with the other pack earlier. He needs to go home."
"Don't you trust me?"
I spun on my heel, armed with a pointed finger and a witty retort but when I saw his patient expression, the words disintegrated. I felt small and alone, except for him. My gut instinct still functioned, and it spoke up without hesitation. "Yeah. Yeah, I trust you. I definitely trust you."
"Do you trust my pack?"
I peered around him to see Olberich. He reminded me a little of Chewbacca, big and good-natured but capable of pulling off someone's arms. If I had to hide behind someone, he'd be the guy I would pick. Janssen was shorter and had a more formal air to him but he knew how to laugh. He also had a fairly nice backside so I guess hiding behind him wouldn't be so bad, either. Then there was Stohl. Cue the retching. "Most of them."
The corner of his mouth curled downwards in disapproval.
"I can't help it." If I had to face becoming a Were, he had to face the fact that Sophie doesn't play nice with everybody. "I'm sure you trust them, but I don't ever want to have to depend on people like Cacilia or Stohl. They suck."
He must have realized that any type of response, no matter how carefully worded, would lead to a loud ranting on my part and decided to dead-end that little opportunity. He scored another point by doing so. "Your trust in me is well-founded. I pledge to you that Toby will be safe from harm in my keeping."
Did I have a choice? I wasn't sure I'd be able to find the door on my own, let alone make him change his mind. "Whatever. But he's got my keys. I have to get them back."
"No need." He held up my key chain, dangling Hello Kitty by her poor neck. I grabbed at them but he dodged my tipsy lunge with ease. "Oh, no, you don't. I will drive."
"Fine. Whatever. You're the boss."
"Not yet, but soon enough." His half-smile held a world of secrecy, but I wasn't interested. I aimed for the middle door and determinedly swayed my way through them, marching like Lucille Ball in all my drunken defiance.
He poured me into the front seat before getting into the driver's side, pushing the seat back to accommodate his long legs. I almost fell asleep on the way home. I supposed it was a mixed blessing that he already knew where I lived. At least I regained enough sobriety to punch in the correct alarm code and make it upstairs. I think I even remembered to take off my coat before flopping down in the middle of the bed, still fully dressed.
At least I didn't barf. Bonus right there.
Waning gibbous | moon 1% visible
I cracked my bedroom door, peering out into the parlor. I felt fresh, like line-dried linen and spring water. My head was clear. Even my morning breath was less potent than it should have been. For the first time since Dierk brought me home with The Bite, I was able to tolerate getting out of bed without wanting to wilt into a sagging, nauseous pile of please-shoot-me.
That could only mean one thing. He was still here. But how did he get past the wards?
Dierk slept on the couch, rolled toward the back with his forehead pressed to the cushions. He wrapped his arm around himself, hand lying loosely upon his ribs; black boots off and tucked against the side of the couch, he drew his knees slightly as if he wanted to curl up on the narrow cushion. Too small a bed for a man of his build, I thought.
He still slept, the sounds of even breathing washing through the quiet room. It was perfect accompaniment to the slivers of sunlight that glowed along the edges of the closed blinds.
I crept forward, one toeful of carpet at a time, relishing the freedom to move without the illness that plagued me in his absence, until I reached the armchair. Making as little sound as I could, I lowered myself into it. He never stirred as I curled my legs up and tucked my bare feet under, taking him in.
Looking at the sleeping man made it hard to connect him with the moon dreams. I remembered the mournful howl, the lonely call, the tag-along moon. I remembered the swift run and the blur of branch and bush. I remembered the taste of fur and earth and night air.
He rolled over and my breath caught on an exhale. Eyes closed, he wriggled to a comfortable position, the sounds of sleeping keeping an even cadence. I eased out the rest of my held breath when he settled once more.
Dierk looked so much younger—eyes closed under straight brows, gentle arcs of dark lash against his cheeks, now shadowed with dusty morning growth. He must be a twice-daily shaver. I wondered if all Weres were.
So this was the man who made me a werewolf. This was my mate. Or something.
I sighed, catching myself halfway through the sharp breath so I wouldn't wake him. I smelled wind and crushed leaf, even though I knew had he spent the previous evening in a bar and driven me home in my Cavalier that definitely didn't have a Wolf Pine air freshener dangling from the mirror. I was pretty sure no one sold perfume like eau du loup. But I smelled him, or at least his power. He was still a void like every other Were, but I smelled him and knew it was him, knew he was there.
I blinked against a sting of hot tears, feeling them hang on my lashes before sliding down my chee
ks. If I tried to keep them in, they'd go straight to my nose and then my sniffling would wake him for sure. Here in the darkness of my warded rooms, no one would see my tears. No one could comfort me, even if they had.
I didn't have much hope to come out of this and remain human. The dreams, the scents…already the infection grew. That seed would grow like a vine and strangle out every other part of my life until only what he meant for me to have remained. I still had a low-grade fever, even though the bite on my hand had almost closed and didn't appear infected. But something was there. Maybe not a raging strep colony, but something just as potent. Something more. Something that allowed him to get past the strongest of wards when no one else could.
I looked at him, seeing nothing unkind or sinister in his peaceful face and wondered how deep a man he was, to cleverly conceal such things. His arms wrapped snugly around his chest, Dierk kept his secrets to himself.
I'd learned how to get inside the DV, although it had taken time. There was never any risk to it; I wouldn't become DV by simply immersing myself in their power.
Risk. Funny word. The only way to catch lycanthropy is the bite. I'd been bitten already. There was no other risk. What would be the harm of trying now?
I considered the void sleeping on my couch. Even when living with Toby, I didn't really push too far past the event horizon. Then again, I still hadn't been bitten. I had never gotten too close to Toby for fear of changing that little fact. Now, the game had changed.
Closing my eyes, I dropped into the Sophia and raised my barrier. The shimmer of my pattern had grown deeper, forest green and navy night sky, jewel-toned. It had to be due to the poor lighting. I couldn't stop and consider my colors had changed. Not yet. Not now.
I slipped up the curtain of power, leaning into it and making it thicker, bulkier. I wanted a good layer between me and whatever lay within the void. Peering with Sophia-sight and a pinched brow, I saw nothing remotely like the DV power signatures I'd learned to "see."
But—I saw something.
I thinned the barrier, layer by layer, and with each removal Dierk's power came sharper into focus. I sat and stared and tried to decipher the puzzle. Dierk wasn't void. I'd just never looked deep enough to really see.
His power wasn't light and emotion. Those were qualities of the DV. Those were qualities by which I'd learned to identify and measure and respond to the Demivampire around me. Those things were not Were.
This was...different. Wind and scent and force, a pull from an ever-changing pendulum that swept the night sky, dragging lovers and slaves behind in her wake. Instinct. Instinct to obtain. Instinct to protect. All these things were Were.
No malice. No deceit. Honesty and integrity, bound by the pull of the moon. Even in sleep, Dierk was these things. I let another layer slip down. Now wearing the thinnest layer of shielding like a silken sheet, I reached for him.
The scent, stronger. Leaf and water, cool and crisp, a cold press upon my tongue. The solid earth against my hands, digging and connecting with primal forces deep below. Knowing it felt good, felt right. The urge to run. The need to run—
I pulled back, shaken. The dream. It was real and I was awake and I drew up my barrier, strained to find my familiar pattern, chasing away the colors of woods and night. Cobalt. Gold. My colors. As they bled back into the walls of my mental barriers, I wanted to weep with relief.
My colors did little to warm me, though, and I huddled in the chair, shivering with the after-thought of having brushed against Dierk's power.
The darkness remained at the edges, content to let the sun shine while it was the sun's proper time to do so. But night would fall. It always did. The sky turned, the wheel turned, and eventually, we turned with it.
I returned to plain old eyeball sight, and once more, Dierk was just Dierk, sleeping with his hair falling over his eyes. After experiencing that little sensory rush, I didn't want to try again. I feared I would be pulled in. Seal my own fate.
The thoughts lingered, though. Dierk was a good man. He was pulled by the moon. He was bound by traditions. Now that I felt it myself, I knew it wasn't a cop-out.
I knew something else, too. Something entirely human. I didn't want to dwell on it yet, but nonetheless I lifted myself carefully out of the chair and tugged an afghan from across the back. Gently, quietly, I draped it over him, smoothed the edge with a hesitant touch, and turned to go back to bed.
"Sophie." His voice, thick and gravelly with sleep, sounded pleased to let my name be the first word he uttered for the day. Pleased I was nearby and pleased I'd heard.
I stopped, not turning, hearing all he'd put into my name. I felt valued. God help me, he'd only said my name and I felt valued.
When I turned, he raised a hand out to me. Blinking lazily, sleep not entirely banished, he smiled, pillow-soft and dreamy. "Please?"
I waited for something inside to resist. My gut-instinct never even twitched. Closer to him would be better. Closer would be much better.
I found myself at his side. Closer was wonderful.
When I sank onto the couch, he urged me to stretch out along the front of his body. Deeper relief spread as he wrapped his arm over me to tuck his hand between the couch and my ribs. Our legs found a comfortable tangle almost instantly, as if we'd slept next to each other for years. My head rested on his other bicep and, with his breath against the back of my neck, I drifted into deepest, safest sleep.
When I dreamed of woods and hills and sky, when I ran with the moon on my back, I didn't run alone.
"Is this necessary?" Dierk squirmed under my ministering fingers.
"It is if I want to keep my job." I straightened his tie and smoothed the white dress shirt down. It was tucked into belted jeans, not Haggars, but it would have to do. I didn't exactly have much to work with. He and Marek weren't the same size, not by a long shot, but at least he didn't swim in the large shirt. "Hold still."
"You won't have to work when the Leni completes." He raked back his damp hair and unbuttoned the cuffs, flipping the too-long sleeves into neat, flat rolls just below his elbows.
I slid my bag off the bar, peeking inside for my wallet and keys. Wallet check, keys…I checked the coffee table and the floor before spying them in Dierk's hand. "I have to work today. Today is as far ahead as I can think right now."
"You still consider it a curse." His quiet voice held a measure of apology.
I knew he'd never apologize for something that seemed so right for him, his kind. Yet, I didn't doubt the sincerity in his tone. He apologized that I struggled to accept it, that I felt such pain.
I knew that his eyes would sway me the last measure of resistance so I avoided looking at his face. "I don't consider it a choice."
"It usually isn't."
I blinked, my eyes dry and tired. "I gathered that. Let's go."
We headed downstairs. He insisted on carrying my messenger bag for me and tucked my hand under his arm. The contact comforted me and I didn't argue. I needed to be as close to the top of my game as possible.
I flipped open the alarm panel and punched the exit code. It responded with a flat tone instead of a bright yes ma'am! beep-beep. Ducking back to peer at the display, I saw it was already disarmed. A throat cleared behind and above me as Rodrian revealed his presence.
He stood at the rail in front of the open office. I'd been so self-absorbed that I hadn't noticed his presence. My stomach tightened when I looked up. Rodrian had watched us walk down together.
I could taste the disapproval on his power. He didn't bother to mask it.
We still hadn't had the chance to talk about any of this. After everything we'd been through together, this had to appear like the ultimate betrayal—and I had never meant for things to turn out this way. I wanted to run to him but his pointed feelings kept me at an agonizing distance.
"Good morning, Rode." I spoke with as much neutrality as I could. I didn't want to provoke his temper.
"Going to work?"
I nodded.
"I have to try. God only knows how pissed Barb will be. I haven't even called off for the time I missed."
"And him?" The question held a hint of condemnation.
"He's coming with me. He's responsible for how I feel today."
"Glad you admitted it." His power took on a blade-like edge that pressed at me, slicing at my barriers. He wanted me to hurt the way he hurt inside. He wanted me to feel the same.
Rodrian got what he wanted, every time. I had to lean into my shields to hide the flash of guilt, the streak of new agony that swelled up like a welt on my heart, and I twisted my face away. He couldn't see how truly his arrow had found its mark. I feared he'd only aim again.
"I don't mean to interrupt," Dierk said.
Rodrian sniffed, a disdainful echo of Marek's gesture. "Then don't."
Dierk stiffened slightly as Rodrian's rudeness. "But I will insist we speak together, you and I. Privately. This evening, here."
"If I'm here." Rodrian faked a disinterested look, his power betraying his real reaction. That reaction was Oh, I'll be here, all right. And I'll be ready for you.
I glanced at Dierk, wondering what he was able to pick up.
Whether or not he got the DV message, Dierk was through playing games. He turned to face Rodrian, his shoulders squared, feet planted. There was no cowing this man when he was set on a course. In a tone that sounded more despotic than diplomatic, he spoke louder than he needed. "You will be here. It is a formal request."
"I don't have anything to say to you."
"And yet, you still have so much to say. We will speak like honorable men. We will confront our differences and embrace our common interests."
Rodrian's gaze slid toward me and his power pulled back, locked in once more. "Fine. I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Sophie. Have a good day at work. TGIF, right? Be careful."
He went back into the office and closed the door, shutting me out. Blinking did little to keep my eyes from stinging, and I gritted my teeth. I would not cry. It wouldn't fix anything.