Jolie plucked fretfully at a loose thread on the thick Wallowa blanket covering Hope’s knees.
Hope encouraged her. “Okay. So Yvette Garoul came to America disguised as a man. God, what an amazing story.”
“Well, in those days it was survival of the fittest. And Yvette had a big advantage…” Jolie looked over at Hope, who hung on every word, captivated. “She was a werewolf. From a long line of werewolves, in fact.”
“Werewolves,” Hope repeated flatly. “You had me up to that point. I was enjoying the story until you turned into the Brothers Grimm.”
Jolie shifted uncomfortably. Was this the way it was meant to go?
She hated all this talking. Much better to chase Hope through the woods, drag her to the ground, strip her naked and bite her. Simple. The old courtship ways were the best. She tried a more immediate approach.
“Hope, what did you see in the river this afternoon? Do you really believe it was an ugly bear?”
Hope shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t answer. Jolie stood; the firelight flickered across her lean face and played in the depths of her eyes.
“Do you want to see it again? The creature? I can call it from inside me. I can change. But when I do, Hope, I’ll want to lie with you; I won’t be able to stop myself. I can smell your scent, and I know you’re ready to mate with me.”
Hope’s face flamed. She remembered the marathon session from last night. She knew her body well enough to realize she had been simmering all day with lust. Her libido had returned with a fearful vengeance, totally ignoring her logical self as it screamed at her to slow down and think things over. This latest “ugly bear” shock had brought her brain to an entire standstill. Everything she’d taken for granted about Jolie, the stoicism, the steadiness, the sanity, had just gone up in smoke with this wacko werewolf story.
“You are going to change into an ugly bea…a werewolf? And ravish me?” Hope stared at Jolie long and hard. “I don’t think so. This nonsense has gone on long enough. I’m tired, you’re insane. I’m going back to bed.”
She needed a good sleep, and to wake up refreshed. Then she’d pack and get the hell back home. She had made a mistake sleeping with Jolie Garoul. A big mistake, plain and simple. She was in recovery.
She was on strong medication and off tilt. A mistake, that was all. No need to beat herself up. At least not yet. She could do that next week, when she was back in the city and Candace was in full “I told you so” mode.
“What did you see at the river? Tell me.” Jolie’s voice sounded rougher, deeper.
Hope became obstinate. “I’m not sure. I didn’t get a good look at it. All I wanted was to grab Taddy and get out of there.” She didn’t like or want this conversation. She didn’t want to be forced into saying what she thought. Well…sort of thought. Werewolves! It was just too preposterous, but Jolie was making her nervous, and that in turn made her angry.
“Jolie, stop creeping me out. We’re not teenagers at camp.”
She started as Jolie pulled her T-shirt over her head and kicked off her panties, standing nude before her in the firelight.
“Damn,” Hope muttered, disconcerted as her libido kick-started itself and roared into life on all four cylinders. Was it a trick of the firelight, or were Jolie’s eyes flashed with amber? Hope was tired. Her prosthetic eye was sore and her real eye vision was blurring.
Jolie’s face seemed to flow before her, wavering and reforming, like long grass flowing in a breeze. How much wine did I drink? She found herself staring at a feral version of Jolie’s dark features. Her eyes gleamed, her lips curled back, she gave a short snap with sharp, white teeth. Hope felt her temperature plummet. Her intellect didn’t understand what was happening, but her guts did. They wanted to heave in fright, and her feet wanted to flee. Even Tadpole had wormed in under the table, watching them both with a look of frightened fascination.
“Jolie? Stop it. You’re scaring me now.”
Jolie stooped, hunching over, growling into her chest. Her spine popped and cracked. The calcified snapping brought Hope to her feet.
“Jolie. Stop it. Stop it now.” But she was backing away as she spoke.
Jolie glanced up at her from under her brows. Her eyes glinted devilishly, hair disheveled. Her jaw sockets cracked, and she panted with pain. It was too much. Hope turned and fled for the bedroom.
Jolie leapt over the couch and followed on her heels, bursting into the room after her. She grabbed Hope and tossed her onto the bed as if she were no more than a doll. She pulled her over onto her back and leaned over her so they lay face-to-face.
“Don’t hurt me,” Hope whimpered.
Jolie froze.
“I’ll never hurt you,” she whispered hoarsely. Her teeth clicked as she snapped her mouth shut.
“Promise?”
“I’ll always keep my promises to you.” Jolie lowered her mouth to Hope’s pulse point. She growled and sucked on the quivering heat pouring off Hope’s throat. If she bit down hard, would Hope turn? Would she have a wolven life-mate? Would Hope survive it? Jolie didn’t know these things. She was scared. Scared to change fully. Scared of hurting Hope. Scared of being rejected for what she was. Her father had said all the little things would make sense. Her mother told her to plant seeds and see what would grow. She had no real idea what they were talking about. She was acting on pure instinct now.
“You’re in bed with a werewolf, Hope. You’ve taken a werewolf for a mate,” she murmured into the sensitive spot just below Hope’s ear.
“And you are my mate, now and for always.” Her teeth snapped near the ear lobe. She was hungry for her. She wanted her.
Rocking her hips, centering herself heavily on Hope’s sex, spreading her legs farther apart, she could scent Hope’s arousal, taste her fear. Both inflamed her. She pulled back, growling. “Roll over.”
Hope’s mind was shutting down. Disbelief clouded her thoughts.
Werewolves? It had to be a joke, one big prank. Yet here in the wilds of the Little Dip valley it seemed very possible. She struggled to rationalize what was happening.
Jolie was pulling at her, her movements clumsy and fevered. The sharp amber glint in her eyes had softened, all the hard edges of her face now blurred to softer curves. Hope was pushed over onto her stomach. Rough hands circled her buttocks in a swirling caress, and with a deep purring rumble Jolie lowered her head and bit the soft flesh.
Hope gasped and jolted at the sharp nip, only to find herself pinned by Jolie’s weight. Her bottom was sharply nipped several times, and then a thick tongue bathed the reddened flesh. She cried out and wriggled in discomfort. Her face flushed, her breathing labored, she squirmed under the intimacy of Jolie’s attentions. This activity was taboo for her.
She had never encouraged it with any previous lovers, and now she felt she was being given little choice but to submit to Jolie’s wishes.
No. No, that is not what we are going to be about! Twisting back on herself, she turned to face a crouched, growling Jolie. Her eyes still shone pale and eerie. Her demeanor, while still disheveled and wild, held none of the earlier dark menace Hope had sensed under the surface.
All Hope could see was sexual arousal. Jolie was fevered with it.
Hope was still uncertain at what Jolie truly was…what she claimed to be. But Hope was not a plaything. She glared with a mixture of trepidation and alarm into those shining eyes. They confused her, a prism to so many things: bestial lust, primal energy, and a blazing love light that burned her up, that scared her. She drew back her hand and delivered a hard, stinging slap.
Startled, Jolie sat back on her heels holding her cheek. Hope registered her shock and spoke quickly. “Don’t touch me. You promised not to hurt me, but you will. I need time to think, and to rest. Leave me alone, Jolie. Sleep somewhere else tonight.”
“You’re sending me away?” Jolie gawped, her voice a shallow pant.
“Yes. If you really cared, you’d understand why.”
“But…”
Hope stared at her silently.
“I love you.” Jolie spoke in that soft growl that made Hope’s insides melt. “I’d never hurt you. Don’t do this. Don’t send me away.”
“I need to do this. I need time.” Hope held strong to her resolution.
Jolie held a strange power over her. She made her care, she made her want, she made her confused.
“If I go will you still be here in the morning? You won’t leave?”
Jolie whispered, her eyes two large pools of hurt.
“Where would I go?” Hope shook her head, more impatient with herself and her quagmire of emotions than with Jolie. She needed space.
She needed time. Most of all, she needed her sanity restored. “Please, Jolie. Leave me alone to think this out. You can’t just dump something like this on me, contort into a…thing, and expect sex. Jesus! Get out.”
Her initial shock was turning to anger. Jolie reached out to touch her.
“Stop it. Don’t touch me.” Hope struggled upright. She was close to tears now, and shaking as she pulled the bedclothes up protectively.
“Don’t cry. Oh God, I love you so much.” Jolie crawled up the bed and tried to hold her but Hope shrugged her away.
“Jolie, you can’t love me. You don’t even know me. We had sex, that was all, and it was a mistake. Even our sex drives are a total mismatch.”
“No, no. I can ask Andre or Leone how they do it. We can get in balance as a couple. It’s possible,” Jolie said anxiously. “Don’t be scared. You’re safe with me. It’s just a shock—”
“Andre and Leone?” Hope blinked at her in dismay. It had never occurred to her that the others were…afflicted too. How had she missed that salient point? Jolie had said Yvette Garoul was…was a…
So obviously all the Garouls were. Shit. I’m so stupid. Jesus, what am I going to do? I think I’m going mad.
“Jolie, is everyone here a…werewolf?”
“No. Amy isn’t, and Shirley, Paulie’s mom. Mates are usually human.”
Hope stared at her in shock. “Why not them?”
“They choose not to. Humans have a choice. The Garouls are born to it.”
“So anyone can become a werewolf.”
“We prefer the term wolven. And it’s hard on the human body. Not everyone survives. Some of the Garoul mates choose to cross over. We help them, and all have thankfully pulled through. But it’s risky. It’s a hard process without the proper support.”
“Oh God. So Marie? And Connie?”
“Yes.” Jolie nodded. “What did you think I was trying to tell—”
“Paulie?” Hope looked horrified.
Jolie nodded again. “He’s just maturing into his wolven side. It happens at puberty. My dad usually helps the young ones get—”
“Oh my God. Your parents? Oh no.”
“Of course my parents. How do you think me and Andre were born wolven if at least one of our parents wasn’t a werewolf?”
Hope looked at her stupidly, her shock cresting close to unmanageable levels. Jolie continued, trying to enlighten her. “Both my parents are wolven. My mom decided to change after she bonded with my dad. If both parents are wolven, then they always have twins. My cousin Jori and his girlfriend, Elicia, are going to have twins next April,” she said matter-of-factly.
Hope paled. She lay down and stared at the ceiling.
“Godfrey?” She suddenly jerked upright.
“Nope. He wasn’t interested, though Andre would have liked him to.”
“Oooh.” Hope moaned and lay down again. Her world was falling apart around her. Godfrey, her Godfrey. And Andre. Both friends of hers, forever. Both with this massive secret.
“Are you okay? I know it’s crazy, but I wanted you to know before we went any further. Except, well, I already have…all on my own.” She looked anxiously at Hope, who seemed fixated with the roof beams.
She doesn’t care I’m in love with her. She doesn’t need it.
“Jolie.” Hope’s voice had shrunk to a very small whisper. “When you brought me here, to this valley…did you plan to…eat me?”
Jolie couldn’t help but snort. “No. We had turkey, remember?”
She reached out and this time was allowed to stroke Hope’s shoulder. She did so carefully.
“We came to present the financial report to the board of directors. And everyone thought you were my mate, and I realized I liked that idea. That I had feelings for you for some time. Back in the city. I think I fell in love with you somewhere in the city.” She let her simple truth fade away into silence, watching thoughts flit and cloud over Hope’s face like weather formations.
“Hope? Are you okay? Can I get you anything? And then I’ll go. I promise I will.”
“I’m exhausted,” Hope murmured. “And probably insane. I think my head is going to explode.”
“Can I get you some tea?”
“Tea? Tea. Are you being surreal?” Hope’s voice had an edge of hysteria to it.
“No. If you want some I’ll make it.” Jolie sprang from the bed, glad to be moving, to be helpful, to be doing something other than talking. Other than digging her grave with her spade of a tongue. “I’ll be right back.”
When she did return, carefully carrying a hot cup of chamomile tea, she found Hope fast asleep. Her body had reacted the only way it knew how to this mind-numbing overload of bizarre information. It had surrendered to the sweet rest and recuperation of sleep.
Jolie set the unwanted cup on the bedside table and tucked Hope’s blanket under her chin, bending to steal a light kiss to her forehead.
She breathed in her scent and held it in her lungs, fearful it might be the last time she was ever this close. In the morning her fate would be sealed. Hope would have processed the information, her body would have moved beyond shock, and she would be in a position to make up her mind.
Jolie already knew the answer. She could sense it—the intellectual detachment, the struggle for logic over this quirk in reality. The craving for a comfort zone that did not include the supernatural. Hope would walk away.
And then there was the matter of the heart. Her own heart was too big, too greedy where Hope was concerned. She knew Hope’s heart was not returning the same amount of need, or passion…or love.
Hope was still healing. She had other, more important places to put her emotional energies. Jolie had moved too fast, and too recklessly. She had allowed the valley and the Garoul expectations to set her pace.
Hope’s body was recovering from cancer and enucleation. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need her. Hope was right; it had all been a mistake.
They had both made them, but in different ways. Hope wanted to feel whole again, like her old self, and had taken a lover as part of that. Jolie wanted a life mate and had pounced, blinded by her own desires, not seeing Hope honestly but rather as she wanted her to be.
Jolie wanted to crawl onto the bed and wrap herself protectively around Hope while she slept. To simply hold her. It would be heaven to hold her, probably for the last time. But she had made a promise, and she would always keep her promises.
Instead she moved out onto the porch and looked at the night sky.
Naked, she walked into the forest; she would change and hunt, ruthless, quiet, and stealthy. She would stretch bone and sinew, bunch muscle, snap with cruel, curved teeth and drive her quarry to the ground. But she wouldn’t howl. She was ashamed of the desperation and the loneliness her wavering cry would reveal.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Hope woke to a cold, gray morning. She blinked, and snuffled, and reached to the other side of the bed as if expecting something. But that half was empty. She raised her head off her pillow.
It was obvious she had slept alone. Lying quietly, she watched the dawn chase shadows from the ceiling.
Werewolves. The Garouls were all werewolves—or wolven, as they preferred to call it, because branding is so important. And their spouses could choose whether to become the same, or rema
in human.
Brilliant. She had obviously been made privy to a big family secret.
A humongous family secret. Would they let her leave knowing it? Or would they eat her alive, unless…unless she became one of them?
Became Mrs. Jolie Werewolf?
Hope mulled over Jolie’s confession in the cold light of day. It still left her reeling. She needed Godfrey like never before. It was hard to believe he knew all about this. Was part of it, even. God, how had he kept his mouth shut?
She felt so lost in all of it.
As she lay there swathed in confusion and contradictory thoughts, something else became clear. The person she most wanted to ask questions of, to help clear her muddled head, was not Godfrey, or Andre. That particular person was not lying in bed beside her, either.
She had gone away as promised, and now she was missed. What was all that about? Hope didn’t like waking up in the wide bed alone. She wanted Jolie there beside her. All this werewolf talk had blown holes in her head. Hope had no idea where to go with this situation.
She began to unravel the tight knot of feelings that bound her.
Okay, so, first thought on waking was… Missing Jolie. It’s a mess. I’m a mess.
Next came the stupendous disbelief in what she had been told, followed quickly by upset and confusion as she began to accept it. She didn’t want the people she liked, and especially those she loved, being different. Being wolven and having this bizarre secret—wait a minute, loved? Sure, she loved Godfrey and Andre. They were her best boy buddies, for heaven’s sake. Jolie was…well, Jolie. She didn’t love her.
She was her weird boss. Okay, so she’d slept with her. Once. Just once, she’d had sex with her. Well, okay, there was a whole lot of sex in that one night. And it was the best sex of her freakin’ life.
Hope’s toes curled under the quilt at the memory, followed quickly by a scowl as she realized her body missed Jolie. It was acting as an entirely separate entity from her reason, logic, and plain common sense.
It tingled and glowed and ached, and wanted. And it was more than lust.
This need burned deeper. There was something else—Hope sat up in a flurry, eyes wide with dismay. All the biting! She was infected with lust for Jolie Garoul. That’s what all the biting was about. She was contaminated with wolven mating bites!
Ambereye Page 17