by Mandy Rosko
“Get off me.”
The words were sharp, pulling him back into the motel room where he had her tied up with his brothers soon to be on their tails.
He should have been back with them by now, but he couldn’t leave her on the side of the road and run while he had the chance. Even if he wanted to leave her, the time for that ended when she saw his face.
Slowly, Shepard removed his hand from her chest and lifted himself from the bed. For a moment, he stood watching her.
“What?” Gwen asked, self-conscious again. Her robe barely covered her chest and her body felt tingly and heated, begging for what she refused to give it.
Exhaling, Shepard loosened the recently tightened ropes around her wrists. “Go in the bathroom and change into those clothes, come back out here when you’re done.”
Gwen quickly covered herself and rubbed the circulation back into her wrists as she sat up, eyeing him carefully. If there was a window in the bathroom she could climb out and run, sniffing her way back to her pack. Or, she could try knocking him over and running for the door, but that would buy her less time to escape since he probably had a vehicle.
She frowned at the idea. No, she couldn’t do that. Even if she did catch him by surprise, he would surely grab her before she made it. Contrary to popular books and movies, werewolves retained very little of their super wolf strength in their human forms. While Gwen was small, she could probably match David for strength even with all his muscles, but he was skilled and trained in … whatever it was that he did, and was sure to win in any fight she started with him.
Reluctantly, Gwen grabbed the clothes that had been tossed on her earlier and went to the bathroom without saying a word to David. The heat from his shower still lingered in the air and she was disappointed with the lack of windows she saw inside.
***
Shepard sat on the bed and sighed. What did he expect? That a few kisses and grabbing at her like that would win her back after everything she knew about him? He was a killer, more of a monster than any werewolf or vampire, and he knew it, no matter what his father or brothers told him.
By the age of twelve, he’d hunted, killed, and skinned more werewolves than he could count, having never so much as read a book about the legends of werewolves. He’d been raised to believe they were just wolves that bred with mutts and went rabid.
He thought it was normal for his dad to carry around a sword, of all things, and use it to cut the heads off of the wolves he caught. In fact, back then, he even thought it was cool. The old man had even let him use it from time to time and Shepard had always been so proud and excited to hold onto the heavy thing.
It was only fair to hunt them, the same animals that jumped the fence at his farm and killed his older brother before Shepard was even born. Werewolves were dangerous and needed to be wiped out.
Even after all the kills, he never knew they were people until one night, days after his twelfth birthday, he found himself out in the woods again. Only, that time he wasn’t expected to shoot a wolf. His father brought him a young man in handcuffs, a kid no older than twenty, and told him to kill him.
David had looked at him, never taking his eyes away from the young man’s swollen face, as Jimmy handed him his new shotgun.
“There you go, David. Shoot him.”
David had held the gun tight against his chest. “Why?”
Both twins slapped their foreheads as if the answer should’ve been obvious.
“That’s a werewolf! He’s one of them! Shoot him for what he did to you!”
But the boy hadn’t done anything to David and he knew it. He hadn't wanted to shoot a person.
Then, Garrett lost his patience and stepped forward. He'd reached out to take the gun, but David dropped it and ran.
When he was fifty feet away, a gunshot echoed through the air. David had stopped dead in his tracks, terrified. He'd known immediately what his father had done.
Garrett hadn’t spoken to him for weeks after that and David continued to hunt, pretending it didn’t happen.
When he finally worked up the courage, he asked Jimmy what their father had meant when he'd said, “Shoot him for what he did to you.”
After Jimmy told him the truth, David had gone by his surname ever since.
Until he met Gwen.
Before, even after the incident with the boy in the woods, it was as if he was alone in a room with no windows, the only source of light a bulb that flickered uselessly above his head.
He could only see flashes of what was really in front of him. If he didn’t like what he saw, he ignored it.
But, then he’d met Gwen, got to know her, and fell in love with her. When he found out what she was, it was as if the flickering light bulb had suddenly been replaced with something new and bright. He could finally see the things around him, even himself, and he didn’t like what he saw.
***
When Gwen left the shower some minutes later, adjusting the jeans and tank top she wore which felt a little snug on her body, Shepard was pulling food boxes out of the microwave for them to eat.
She wanted to roll her eyes at him. Of course. David was a terrible cook. Even if there was a stove in the room, he wouldn’t go near it.
He’d once tried cooking for her. “It’s my specialty,” he’d proudly declared, placing a plate full of what looked like rice, hamburger meat, and a lot of pepper and soy sauce in front of her. She’d hesitantly poked at her meal with her fork, looking up to see him happily digging into the food before she shrugged and took a big bite.
Her eyes watered and she swore her mouth caught fire. She'd coughed and choked so violently David had to perform the Heimlich maneuver on her and give her a tall glass of water afterward.
When she stopped choking, he nearly strangled her with his bone crushing hug, kissing her face and making her promise not to scare him like that ever again. She joked that she would only do so if he promised never to cook for her ever again.
He’d taken her hand, kissed the top of it and said, “Your wish is my command,” in a British accent, then ordered her a pizza while he finished the rest of the rice.
He’d been shocked at how she was able to finish the entire thing by herself, and she’d sheepishly said she’d been really hungry.
Gwen pushed the thought from her mind and fought back the sting in her eyes. Not a particularly romantic memory, but still a fond one. She missed how it used to be. Now, she didn’t know who he was anymore.
David looked up at her. “You hungry?” he asked, holding out one of the dinners for her. She could almost think the situation was normal if it weren’t for the setting.
She ignored his question. “Are you going to tie me up again?”
He looked disappointed with the question. “Only if you try to leave before I tell you you can.”
So, he was planning on letting her go. Despite the situation, Gwen could never bring herself to believe he would hurt her, but she had been worried about how long he intended to keep her here. She wanted to get back to her father and Bill to ensure their safety.
“Within reason,” she said.
“Good, now are you hungry?” he asked again, grinning. “This is safe, I can cook out of a microwave.”
Despite herself, Gwen smiled back at him and sat down, crossing her legs. She grabbed a plastic fork, hesitating when she saw that the box had been opened near the edge. She stared up at him eating his own meal casually, but now she was suspicious. If he could drug her and drag her off, then how did she know he hadn’t put something in the food? There were thousands of drugs that could dull her senses, leaving her completely at his mercy. If the food really was drugged, he didn’t have to let her go at all.
Shepard looked up and saw that she wasn’t eating. “You okay?” He took another bite of his chicken, used to the stale taste that came with boxed meals.
“Huh? Uh, yes. Yeah, I’m fine.” As if to prove it, she ripped the rest of the packaging away. The steam rose up into h
er face and she allowed the smell freely into her nostrils to determine if there was anything amiss.
She couldn’t smell anything wrong, but the scent of the food could be masking the drug.
Shepard was still staring at her. Gwen forced a grin on her face and took a big bite just to prove to him that she wasn’t on the edge of her seat. It was hot and cold at the same time, hard to get down. Gwen had to swallow several times to keep from choking.
She coughed instead.
Shepard gave her a plastic cup of water and she downed it in one gulp.
He looked at her as if trying to see into her head. She stared back at him, hard. He just shrugged and went back to his dinner. She didn’t know how he could dig into such horrible food when all she could do was pick at the rest of hers.
After a time, he spoke, “I didn’t poison it.”
His growled words made her jump. He was annoyed now, scowling into the rest of his chicken.
“I didn’t say you did,” she defended.
“You didn’t need to.”
Gwen took another bite to satisfy him and made herself swallow. This time it was easier, but he still wasn’t looking at her. She searched for something to say that would change the topic. “I didn’t know there were places open this time of night that sold clothes,” she said.
Shepard stopped chewing and swallowed hard, looking suddenly sheepish. “Uh, there aren’t. I took those from a clothes line in someone’s yard.”
Stunned, Gwen ran her eyes over what she was wearing, shocked to learn that they were the clothes of another woman, a woman who would probably be very angry with herself for forgetting her laundry outside when she found some of her things missing in the morning.
“Oh,”
“Do they fit alright?”
They didn’t, but a small “yes,” was all she could say before the silence took over again.
The next question was on the tip of her tongue and she wondered if she should even ask, it was likely that she wouldn’t like any of the answers.
She shook her head at herself. Of course she should ask. She needed to know as much as she could about what he’d been hiding from her. Then again, after what she saw tonight, it wasn’t really much of a question.
“You’re a hunter, aren’t you?” It was a good enough start since it was the biggest question on her mind.
Weres and vamps stayed away from hunters at all costs. Very rarely would they be associated with each other unless one had something to offer the other. Hunters were dangerous, violent betrayers, even the human ones.
David looked her in the eyes and said the word she dreaded. “Yes.”
Gwen sighed, closing her eyes against the disappointment she felt. “How long have you been hunting?”
He looked away this time. “All my life.”
The information was like a punch to the gut. Gwen turned away, her throat constricting.
All his life? It was even worse than finding out he’d been a hunter at all. How many of her kind had he killed? Dozens? Hundreds? To have been in the hunting business all his life made him skilled; he would have to be in order to have survived without being turned.
Get bit by a were, you turn. Get bit by a zombie, you turn. Get bit by a vamp, you turn. It was a wonder why people bothered hunting at all.
It did make sense though, the first time she’d seen him without his shirt on there were scars and fine lines across his chest and back. When they made love later, she found that they went all up and down his body. When she’d asked, he told her that he was in the Service. When she asked which part, he was vague and changed the subject. She wished she’d pressed him for answers. Maybe, then, all of this could have been avoided.
Shepard looked up at her, the expression on her face wasn’t very helpful and he felt his hope diminishing. She deserved the truth and, if he wanted her to survive, he should give her the truth.
Taking a deep breath, Shepard braced himself. “Gwen, what’s my last name?”
She looked at him, blinking in confusion. “What?”
“My last name, what is it?”
“Shepard,” she said, shrugging and wondering what that had to do with—
Then her eyes went wide and she looked at him, really looked at him. He was having trouble looking back at her, which was all the confirmation she needed.
“You don't mean—? One of the Shepards?” she asked, her voice getting higher.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Gwen deflated in her chair. She'd known his last name, he didn't exactly hide it from her, but never thought he was one of the Shepards. The famous hunters known for their ability to kill nearly everything in their paths. Shepard was a common last name, why would she have ever suspected him of being one of those killers? He didn't look like a killer. Not what she pictured one of those men to look like, anyway.
“Wait. You mean that man who killed himself was part of your—”
“No,” he said quickly. “We hire bounty hunters when we know that we’re going against a group more than twice the size of our own. He wasn’t a part of my family.”
Gwen heaved a breath, glad that it wasn’t something David would be angry with her over. Then, another thought occurred to her. If he was a Shepard then so were those men who’d attacked her pack. The bounty hunters would be one thing, but trained Shepards?
Oh God, what if they were all dead? What if her father was dead?
She clutched her stomach and put a hand to her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
David pushed his chair back and went to her side, but she jerked away from him.
“Don’t. Please, just don’t.” Gwen hid her face in her hand, anything to keep from looking at him.
What was she going to do? Why hadn’t he killed her and skinned her for her pelt while he still could? She wanted to believe it was because he still loved her, if he ever did, but the only time he uttered the words was the last night they were together, the night they were spectacularly naked in bed, and she awoke alone the next morning. Not very encouraging, but why else would he be protecting her? Or, was he just waiting for her to change again so he would have his chance?
The thought was horrifying and she had to muscle back the lump in her throat.
Was he busy sharpening his tools, getting ready for the kill when she suddenly changed back into a woman? Was that why she wasn’t dead yet?
She hated all the suspicions she now had against him. What was she going to do? She was trained to defend herself and her pack, not deal with a Shepard who was possibly in love with her.
“So it was all a lie. Everything. You were never in the army. You never wanted me to meet your dad. You don’t have a farm in the country. And, you never…” she trailed off. She was about to accuse him of never loving her, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. To say it would somehow make it more real.
“That’s not true,” he said indignantly. “I never told you I was in the army. I did want you to meet my dad, and I do have a farm.”
She raised her head. “Oh yeah? Where?”
He shrugged. “Somewhere in Saskatchewan.”
“You’ve never even been there?”
The truth was, his family had up and left the place when he was still a baby. It was still in the Shepard name, just sitting there, abandoned and waiting for someone to come back and save it from the weeds.
Shepard had many fantasies of leaving the hunting life to live in the country as a farmer. Somewhere quiet where he could work all day and forget about everything horrible.
“I thought you were angry because I’m a Shepard, not because of some farm.”
“That’s not the point. You kill people for a living.”
Shepard didn’t try to touch her again, but he knelt before her and spoke. “Gwen, please understand that I’ve tried. I’ve really tried to get out. I’ve never killed a werewolf that didn’t deserve it since I was a kid. Before then, I never even knew they were people.”
Gwen�
�s lips thinned and she scowled hard.
Shepard tensed, unsure if he should prepare for an attack.
That was probably the wrong thing to say.
Gwen couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He’d never killed a werewolf that didn’t deserve it? What was that supposed to mean? She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of him and his family, but stopped when a faint sound caught her ears.
Gwen snapped her head toward the door, the familiar sound of barking catching her attention. Not dog barking, but wolf barking. Her kind of wolf barking.
Gwen ran toward the door, surprising Shepard, who leapt to his feet, but she just put her eye to the peep hole.
“What is it?” he asked, knowing perfectly well that her senses far surpassed his own.
She didn’t answer right away. Gwen could see the Mexican Grey Wolf and a Red Manned Wolf sniffing around outside by the truck, a truck she recognized to be her father’s. David must have stolen it. John and Di must have tracked her scent on the truck. She briefly thought of throwing the door open and running out to them, but stopped herself. If they found David, no amount of convincing on her part would stop them from killing him. Shepard or not, two wolves against one man was more than enough.
Keeping her voice low, Gwen turned to him and whispered, “We need to get out of here.”
Shepard opened his mouth to ask what she’d seen when the screeching of tires came next. Gwen turned back to the peep hole and saw another truck skid to a halt, a newer and darker one. Two men leapt out with guns and the shooting began.
Shepard ran to the window when he heard the truck, peeling back the curtains just enough to see the werewolves darting out of the way of the bullets and running into the shrubs.
“Damn,” he hissed. “You’re right. We need to go.”
“Wait a minute. Those are my packmates. Who are they?”
“My brothers.”
Chapter Five
“Your brothers!” Gwen exclaimed. More Shepards had arrived? She had to get out there and warn John!
Gwen grabbed the door handle and tried to rush outside, but it was locked. Shepard threw his arms around her before she could unlock it and escape.