by Sam Crescent
Oh, no. Please, God, no…
He walked on, steeling himself for the worst, and when he reached the mound he almost threw up. A female body rested there, naked, legs splayed, breasts hacked off. Blood spatter streaked her belly and legs, recent if the stench was anything to go by. Long hair covered the woman’s face and, unable to be of much help in wolf form, Travis shifted. The change seemed to take longer than usual, but he realised that the awful slow motion of suspended time in situations like this had taken over. In his human form—absurdly conscious of standing naked beside a corpse, knowing it was inappropriate but unable to do anything about it—he sucked in a few deep breaths to calm his fast-beating heart. He hunkered down, legs wobbly, and reached out to check the woman’s wrist for a pulse.
He didn’t find it.
Panic set in. His teeth chattered and his throat tightened. Pausing to still his racing mind, to remember what he should do in an instance like this, he struggled to form a cohesive thought. The discovery of her, the sight of her, the smell of her had leeched all sense out of him. Touching her wrist and finding out she was dead had been the final thing to tip him over the edge.
Focus! This isn’t about you. It’s about this woman and finding who the fuck killed her. Clark. It was Clark… Had to be.
He took one last, huge breath then lifted her hair from her face.
Macy Jo stared back at him.
Travis sprang back, landing on his ass, a shout of surprise barking out of his mouth. What the hell? Why the fuck would Clark want to kill Macy?
“Hey! You there!” someone shouted.
Travis turned to where the voice had originated, his eyes misty with tears of shock, his heart thumping way too wildly for his liking. Two figures barrelled towards him, and, despite being naked, Travis scrambled to his feet, relief pouring into him that help had arrived.
“Fucking hell! Thank God you’re here. Macy Jo. Someone killed Macy Jo. Help me, will you? You got a cell? Ring for the police.” Travis looked back down at Macy, unable to comprehend the young woman’s death.
“One of us is the police, asshole.”
Clark.
Travis whipped his head around, eyes clear now. Clark came abreast of him, grabbing Travis’ wrist in a harsh grip.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Travis demanded. “And get your goddamned hands off me!” He tried to break free, but Clark held him strong. Had the shock of finding Macy rendered Travis weak? He tugged some more, ineffective in his efforts to make the guy let him go. It didn’t make sense, Clark being able to constrain him like this.
“You hear that, Stephen?” Clark asked.
Travis glanced away from Clark to the other man. The bombshell of seeing Stephen here as well had Travis’ mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out for a few seconds. He managed a quiet, “What the fuck?” before Clark butted in again.
“What did I tell you, Stephen? I said I saw him coming out here with no clothes on, didn’t I? Fucking freak bastard.” Clark winked at Travis. “And oh, Lord, there’s Macy Jo, dead like that hiker last year when he strolled into town.” He jerked his head at Travis and smirked.
Travis tried to yank his arm away, but it felt heavy, useless. He stared at Stephen, who stared back, eyes glazed, his face that of someone under the influence. Had Clark brought him up here drunk?
“Stephen?” Travis said. “Macy Jo is dead. I found her here just now. Don’t listen to that prick!”
“But he’s naked, Stephen,” Clark said. “You see that? Big ole cock hanging there for all to see. Killing women in the nude. Whatever is the goddamn world coming to, I wonder?”
Travis’ mind sparked, the fuzziness shifting some. “If I killed her, why aren’t I covered in blood? She was hacked up, for fuck’s sake. And get. Your fucking hands. Off me!” He pulled free at last, going back down on his knees beside Macy Jo, stricken by the sight of her but wanting to do something to help. He called over his shoulder, “One of you give me your fucking coat so we can cover this poor woman up.”
When no coat sailed through the air towards him, Travis lost it. He jumped up, striding towards Clark, who stood his ground, that infernal smirk still in place.
“What the hell is wrong with you two? Ring for the deputy. It’s clear Stephen’s in no fit state to deal with this!”
Clark hawked then spat. “You hear that, Stephen? Guy here says you’re a shitty sheriff. That you can’t do your job. Reckon you’ll be wanting to arrest him, right? I mean, we found him up here with a dead body. What the fuck is that all about, huh?”
Travis lifted one arm to throw a punch at Clark, but the other man raised his forearm to block it. Stephen came up behind Travis, yanking his arms behind him to apply cuffs.
“Oh, so you’re with it now, are you?” Travis snarled, struggling so Stephen couldn’t constrain him.
Clark went around the back of Travis and helped Stephen out. With Travis bound, Clark kicked him in the backs of his knees, sending Travis sprawling to the ground.
“Go and see to the body, Stephen. Do your job and call the deputy.”
As Travis staggered to his feet, off balance without his arms by his sides, he watched in horror as Stephen obeyed. The sheriff knelt and brought out his notebook.
“What the fuck have you done to him, Clark? You given him something?”
Clark leaned in close. “That’d be telling, wouldn’t it? Just like it’d be telling if I said the brew you’ve been drinking during tea breaks with us at the ranch has messed with your senses a little. Didn’t feel that little prick from a needle in your arm just now either, did you?”
“You fucking asshole!”
Travis kicked out, but Clark stepped back just in time. Travis’ leg kept going, the momentum sending him full circle, fucking with his balance. For the third time since he’d arrived here he was down on the ground.
The small hairs on his neck prickled.
Oh, Jesus Christ…
The shift began, his arms painful as his body tried to change in the usual way. His wrists thinned just in time, and he slid the cuffs off, bringing his hands in front of him. In a matter of seconds he stood in wolf form before Clark, baring his teeth and growling a warning.
“Holy fuck!” Clark sprang back, eyes wide, hands held up in surrender.
That’s not going to work this time, asshole…
Travis leapt forward, shoving Clark to the ground.
“Stephen! Help! A fucking wolf!”
Travis put his front paws on Clark’s chest and snarled. The man lay stupefied, scared shitless. If Travis was in human form he’d have laughed. He glanced at the sheriff. Stephen was in a world of his own, scribbling notes.
Jesus Christ…
He looked back down at Clark, debating whether to rip his fucking throat out like he’d promised.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Clark said, narrowing his eyes. “Goddamn knew it was you outside Sarah’s. How the fuck do you do that?” Clark shook his head, some of the fear disappearing from his eyes. He smiled, his fleshy lips wet and quivering. “You know what? You’re wasting time here, fucker.”
Travis cocked his head. What?
Clark’s bravado returned. “Yeah. You’d better get ready to run, wolf boy. You in the mood for a sprint?”
Travis checked Clark over for signs of a gun, annoyed with himself that the human side of him prevented him from killing this motherfucker.
What the hell is he on about?
Clark lifted his arm slowly and peered at his watch. “Yeah, right about…now.”
Travis dipped his head, opening his mouth to release a menacing growl.
“Aww, get the hell off me, wolf boy. You need to take a jog. Back to your clothes. You’ll find the next clue there.”
Travis hesitated, wondering if this was just another of Clark’s sick games.
“Run along, freak.” Clark laughed, holding his belly, delirious with hilarity.
Travis stared at him. Clark’s switch fro
m being so scared then laughing as though nothing fazed him was something Travis hadn’t seen before. He urged himself to clamp his teeth around that throat and bite hard.
Clark stopped laughing abruptly. “You still here? Go on, fuck off. Check your clothes. You want another clue?” He paused, licking his lips. “Sarah’s alone, right?”
Travis sped away, leaving that fucked-up scene behind him. He’d deal with it later when he knew Sarah was safe. He’d call the deputy and offer up an interview. No way was he going down for a murder he didn’t commit.
The air burned his lungs. His legs screamed from the vigorous exercise. His mouth dried out. Head pounding with panic, paws smacking the ground, he raced back the way he had come. It seemed to take an age for him to reach the fence where he’d left his clothes. He shifted again, tired out from the amount of times he’d changed tonight, and dived for his jeans. Searched the pockets. Searched the ground. Searched them both again.
The key to Sarah’s house was gone.
A slight rustle sounded behind him, then a blinding pain entered his head. His knees buckled, and as he fell to the ground, his last thought was that someone had hit him with a goddamn baseball bat.
Chapter Ten
The following morning, Sarah blinked rapidly against the sunlight shining through the thin material of her bedroom curtains. She rolled over, the aches and pains reminding her of the adventures of the night before.
“Travis,” she called, frowning when she couldn’t hear him. Moving out of the bed, she pulled on her robe and looked in the bathroom, then his room and, finding them empty, went downstairs, sure he would be around somewhere.
She glanced through the kitchen window. The men worked, but Travis was nowhere to be seen.
Had he gone and left her?
Don’t be ridiculous. He’s out there somewhere, that’s all.
The kettle wheezing was the only sound in the room. Sarah barely heard it. It felt like her heart was being ripped out as she thought the worst.
Travis was gone and not coming back.
She stood in the kitchen for the longest time, her whole body working on automatic. She didn’t think about her actions. She removed the kettle from the stove, adding milk, sugar and coffee to two cups, which she then filled with boiling water. Her hands shook, and tears wet her cheeks. Until recently, she hadn’t cried in an age, had vowed not to over any man, yet here she was, mind elsewhere, crying out her upset, anger and loss of a man she’d thought had given a shit about her.
How wrong could I fucking be?
She glanced down at the cups and frowned. Took one and threw it in the sink, yelling out her pain. Sarah held on to the sink and raged, the painful noises coming out of her revealing her heartbreak. The first time she’d opened her heart and body to a man and he was gone.
A knock at her back door made Sarah stand and gather her wits. She hastily wiped her face, took a deep breath, went to the door and opened it.
“How can I help you, Gavin?” Her voice was calm, if a little hoarse, and she knew her face must be red.
Gavin stepped over the threshold. “Sorry, Miss French, but the men and I heard ya screaming and we were worried.” He pulled his Stetson from his head and fiddled with the damn thing.
She shouldn’t be listening to his worry, even though it touched her somewhere deep inside that the men cared enough to check on her. She shouldn’t even have to deal with this shit. Did they care she was upset just because she was a woman? If she was a man, would one of them have walked up to her damn house and asked if she was okay? No, she didn’t think they would.
Not caring about her naked state underneath her robe, she placed her hands on his chest, gently pushed him out of her house and down the steps. The men, some of them old workers from when her father was in charge, glanced at her with pity in their eyes.
She didn’t want or need their pity—she was fine on her own like she always had been, and she wouldn’t have any of these men tell her otherwise. They’d probably heard all about the fracas at Macy Jo’s last night. Maybe guessed Travis had brought her home, fucked her, then fucked off.
“Have you got a problem?” she yelled.
They all stared at the ground or kept their gazes everywhere else but on her.
She was done with this shit.
“I asked you guys a question!” Sarah was determined to have the fight that was brewing inside her. She knew she shouldn’t be taking it out on the men, but Travis wasn’t here, and if he ever turned up again, she’d have lost the urge to yell and scream at him.
“We were just worried about you, Sarah. The men mean nothing by it,” one of the ranch workers spoke up.
“I don’t need any of your worry. I don’t need anything from you except work. Take a good old look at me. I’ll let you know exactly what’s wrong before the gossip-mongers really get going. That way you’ll have heard it directly from me and not some nasty old bitch in town. I’m a fallen woman. I gave my body to Travis Williams last night and he fucked off.”
Her outburst was a little too dramatic, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. The tears were fast flowing again, her anger rife. She shook from the pent-up emotion dying to be unleashed—and, God, there was so much more inside her to come out. She didn’t want to do it now, or here, but she knew she wouldn’t see Travis in time to let it loose.
“No lady like you should be talking like that.”
Her eyes blurred against the waves of pain at the unseen man’s words. She was a lady, her daddy had told her that. She’d given her heart and body to Travis thinking he’d meant what he’d said, and now he wasn’t here, just like her damn instincts had screamed. Was this normal protocol for guys to lie in order to get a fuck? In truth, she didn’t have the first clue what to expect, not with guys like that anyway, but she’d hoped it would have been something special. Thought he had been someone special.
This was what you got for giving your heart to a man? Crushed, humiliated and alone? She should have just stuck with her old life, keeping everyone at a distance. She didn’t need men then and she wouldn’t need them now. In fact, she was already sick of seeing fucking men.
“Get the fuck off my ranch,” she screamed at the workers.
They looked at her, shocked, and in that moment she couldn’t have cared less.
“You heard me. Get the fuck off my ranch and don’t come back.”
She threw a stone off her porch. It landed somewhere in the middle of the group, kicking up dust. The crowd dispersed slowly, the older ones glancing at her with sadness clearly written in their eyes.
Panting for breath, she stalked back into her kitchen, knowing she’d really messed things up now. With no men to help run the ranch it’d go to ruin, but a part of her revelled in not caring. They were out of a job, no wages coming in from here on out, and she was to blame. Her and her hot temper.
But her stubborn pride wouldn’t allow her to call them back.
She shut the back door. It rattled inside the frame. She looked at the door Travis had spent so long repairing. He’d done a really good job. Running her hand along the wood, such a simple touch, she thought she could feel Travis. It was a bizarre and surreal moment. She sensed fresh air and panic as he ran, as though she was tied to him somehow. Her fuzzy brain was connecting with something… Was that a wolf she saw in her mind’s eye? Shaking her head against the craziness, she ploughed her fist through one of the small window panes in the door.
She cried out with the pain but at the same time relished it. The pain was a welcome relief from all the hurtful emotions in her heart.
Shaking her head to try to disperse the thought of Travis and a wolf, she pulled her hand back inside and wrapped her fist in a towel. She would have to go to the emergency room. Hadn’t her daddy told her to control her temper otherwise it would start to cost money?
“Sorry, Daddy, but I’m sure this once you can forgive me,” she whispered and made her way upstairs to dress.
Once inside
her room, she stared at the bed she’d shared with Travis, where she’d lost her precious virginity and given Travis more of herself than she’d ever given another human being. Tying the cloth into a knot on her bloodied knuckles, she pulled the duvet from the bed and threw it in the corner by the door. She continued to strip the bed, cheeks blazing hot at the red stain on her sheets, until it was bare and she was panting and sweaty from her work.
“That’s it, I quit. I’m selling this place, Daddy. Do you hear me? I want fuck all to do with this shithole.” She screamed, cursed and pushed all of her passion into her anger.
Still sweating, determined to get done with everything, she changed into baggy sweat pants and shirt, intent on keeping her mind focused. She would rid her life of her problems. Go to the emergency room, get herself checked out, and then she’d put this place up for sale. Screw the town and Macy Jo and all the Travises of this world. She was done. One guy and that was enough for her.
Once fully dressed, she pulled her hair into a pony tail, washed her face and the excess blood off her hand, wincing at the sting. She retied it with the cloth and gazed at her reflection in the small bathroom mirror, unable to see much beyond a huge pair of empty eyes looking back at her. Not satisfied, she went to the full-length mirror in her father’s bedroom. She took time to look at herself. Even in the baggy clothes she could see the outline of her every curve. Should she feel different, or did she look different from last night? She stared harder, trying to detect any subtle difference about her person. Her ass was still a little too big and her breasts fuller than the average woman’s. And her eyes still shot daggers.
She could see the swell of her hips, see Travis’ hand glide down and hold them. See Travis standing behind her. He wasn’t there, but her mind remembered him and wanted him. Her body responded with the budding of her nipples, jutting against her shirt, as well as a rapid pulse in her pussy. She cupped her mound through the restricting fabric and moaned. He’d awakened her as a woman, and, as much as she cursed and scolded men and her life, she knew she would never be the same. Her body was alive and ready for her man. Her nipples were sore from his suckling last night and her pussy ached from the use and the need to be fucked.