My Sister Is A Werewolf yb-4

by Kathy Love

  She snuggled down into the mattress, soft down and warm covers shifting to cuddle her whole body. Well, it certainly wasn’t because the bed was uncomfortable. It felt absolutely delicious this morning.

  She yawned again, stretching her legs, nearly moaning at the pleasurable release of pain from her limbs and back. Then she froze as a rather pleasant ache manifested between her legs as well.

  Suddenly the previous night’s events returned, unfolding in her brain like the slow stretch of her muscles. She sat upright, staring out at the room, yet seeing nothing but the flashing images of last night. Oh God!

  “Oh God.”

  She’d picked up some mortal guy in her brother’s bar, or rather, her sister-in-law’s bar. Which meant both of them had witnessed her strange behavior.

  “Oh God,” she murmured again, dropping her face into her hands.

  And the guy-Jensen-she groaned. What did that guy think of her? Slut seemed like a pretty apt word, and very likely option. Crap.

  Letting out another groan, she fell back against the pillows. They didn’t feel nearly as comfy as they just had.

  Okay. Okay. She could make things right with Christian. After all, her brother didn’t actually know that she’d gone off with some guy she’d essentially been stalking and jumped him in the front seat of his truck.

  But he did know she assaulted one of his patrons. He had to have found her overreaction a little odd. Still, she could deal with explaining that better than explaining a random hookup. She didn’t think she could even explain it to herself. She’d never done anything like that before. Her behavior had been bad-very, very bad.

  “Christian could never know about that,” she vowed to herself and the empty room.

  Although… the act itself hadn’t been bad. It had been really, really good.

  She made another noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. What was she thinking? She was reflecting fondly on the most embarrassing behavior of her entire life.

  What had gotten into her since she arrived in Shady Fork? Was West Virginia like some kind of wolfbane to her kind? Making them act like lunatics at all times, instead of just on the full moon?

  She hadn’t had a “normal” day since shortly after she arrived here. At first she’d been fine, but about two weeks after she was settled, she began to feel strange. In fact, the most normal she’d acted was on the full moons.

  Sure, she sprouted hair and morphed into the world’s most deranged-looking Canis lupus — but she knew to expect that.

  She hadn’t expected last night. If she had, she would have locked herself up here. She hadn’t expected the nagging restlessness and agitation to turn into… She didn’t even know what it had turned into.

  Yes, she did. Lust-pure, unbridled lust.

  And she simply didn’t feel like that. Not for a total stranger, whom she’d barely spoken to. Jensen.

  She liked that name.

  Good Lord! What was she doing? Now she was ruminating fondly over the man’s name. A man who she was darned lucky she even knew his name, given the mission she’d been on. And he didn’t know hers. Although that could be a good thing.

  She’d actually asked him to fu…

  She groaned again. She’d asked him to have sex with her. Not quite so tastefully, however. What was happening to her? The restlessness, the anxiety.

  She didn’t even remember how she got home. The last thing she recalled was thanking him, then stepping out into the night. Again she groaned. She’d actually thanked the man, like she’d done nothing more than gotten a ride from him. Which she had.

  “Oh God,” she moaned, dropping her head back into her hand.

  This had to be related to the serum. It was the only thing that made sense. She needed to talk to Dr. Fowler. Now.

  She scrambled out of bed and hurried to the cordless phone perched in its cradle on the dresser. From memory, she punched in the doctor’s number. It rang several times, then went into voice mail.

  She hesitated, but then simply said it was Elizabeth and she needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

  She hit the disconnect button, but stood there with the phone in hand, debating what to do. What had happened last night was too strange. Her crazy behavior, paired with this endless anxiety, and now she couldn’t even recall getting home. This was all so bad.

  Except she didn’t feel the restlessness, the agitation right now. With the… sex, that feeling had actually disappeared. In fact, it had disappeared as soon as she’d orgasmed. She could remember that.

  But it wasn’t the stunning, soul-stealing orgasm that replayed in her mind, or even the reprieve from the wearing agitation that had been plaguing her. It was the moments cuddled against Jens-the mortal’s chest. Listening to the rhythm of his heart. That was what she could see in her mind, still feel in her body.

  Don ’t go there, she told herself. Don ’t be sentimental about something that was so not about sentiment. Especially if her behavior was somehow created by the serum. Then none of her feelings were real.

  The lust definitely had been real. Very real. That was pretty darned evident from her behavior, but it was probably manufactured lust, and it didn’t deserve sentimentality. It deserved getting back to her lab and trying to figure out what was going on.

  She set down the phone and opened her dresser, rummaging for clothes. What had happened to her physiologically? She’d acted like she was in heat. But that wasn’t possible. With female werewolves, the need to breed…

  Elizabeth smirked at her own wording. Catchy. But the need to breed was triggered by the male werewolf. His pheromones spurred on the female’s, causing her own hormones to ready for mating. Human males couldn’t do that.

  She could be attracted-well, obviously she could. And she could have sex with one, again an obvious statement. But she couldn’t go into heat over a human, and a mated werewolf always bred with its mate. Those were the rules.

  Unless the last vaccination had altered her in some way.

  For the briefest moment, Brody’s roughly handsome face filled her mind. Brody. Her mate. The man she’d bound herself to because she was young and scared and alone. She’d realized her mistake quickly, but by then, she was a werewolf. And even more dependent on him. She’d needed him to help her understand her new life. She’d needed him-and he’d used her. Fair enough trade. Until she stopped needing him.

  But that knowledge didn’t stop a wave of nausea from coursing through her. No matter what her circumstances were with Brody, she didn’t cheat. That had been his department. Not that she’d cared. She’d have to have cared about Brody for his infidelity to hurt. And she simply didn’t.

  Which was why she’d worked so, so hard on a cure. In her mind, if she was no longer a wolf, she was no longer mated. The cure was her only chance at a divorce, of sorts. Her only chance to find the real love and the family she’d craved for nearly two centuries.

  Which was why she had to get to work. She pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a zip-front sweatshirt. The agitation was gone now. That was a positive out of all of this. Now she could focus.

  Okay, there were the very distracting memories of last night to contend with, but she could control her recollections better than she’d been able to control that relentless restlessness in her body. She was wasting time thinking about the events of the previous night, anyway. It was one night of craziness-really, really crazy. But the side effect was calmness. At least in her body.

  Now she had to get back to her work. She wanted her life back. Focus on that. The future.

  But as she finished dressing, she couldn’t say why a memory of Jensen’s forest-green eyes appeared before her whenever she thought about her future.

  “You got in a tad late, didn’t you, son?”

  Jensen looked up from the newspaper as his grandfather ambled into the room. Not for the first time since he’d been home, did Jensen notice that his grandfather looked frailer than he remembered. His tall frame stooped slightly, and his
large hands were more gnarled.

  “Later than I intended,” Jensen agreed, taking a drink of his coffee. “I hope I didn’t wake you when I came in.”

  “Nope, just happened to get up and see your truck was still gone.”

  “How was golf?” Jensen asked, feeling the need to change the subject. He’d thought about last night enough already.

  His grandfather might look older, but he still stayed plenty active. Today being an example. He’d been out of the house before Jensen had even managed to crawl out of bed. Of course, sleep hadn’t come easily last night.

  “My putting was for shit,” Granddad muttered. “And that Harold Wilks moves the ball, I swear he does.”

  Jensen chuckled. His grandfather had called his best friend “that Harold Wilks” for as long as Jensen could remember.

  Granddad poured himself a mug of coffee, then joined Jensen at the ancient, scratched kitchen table. He sifted through the sections of the paper that Jensen had already set aside, finding the crossword. He pulled the ever-present mechanical pencil from his shirt pocket and began to study the puzzle. Moments later, the scratch of the pencil on paper filled the room.

  Jensen returned to absently reading the sports page.

  “Did you have fun?” Granddad asked, not looking up from his puzzle.

  But Jensen glanced up, knowing the old man was more curious than his nonchalant inquiry suggested.

  “When?” he asked, being just as cagey.

  “Last night. Did you have a good time?” Granddad said, still penciling in the squares in front of him.

  “Sure.” Jensen fiddled with the handle of his mug.

  Granddad nodded and he wrote in another word. Jensen returned to an article about the Mountaineers and their winning streak. Or at least he thought that was what the article was about. Maybe it was their losing streak.

  “Did the good time have a name?”

  Jensen’s head snapped up. His grandfather had always been good at offhanded prying-and far too accurate.

  “No,” Jensen said, just as easily. “The good time didn’t have a name.” He didn’t even have to lie about that.

  His grandfather nodded again.

  Jensen gave up on the paper and rose to refill his coffee cup. He was exhausted. Sleep had evaded him most of the night. He’d just lain in his childhood bed, remembering. Remembering Katie. Remembering his life here in West Pines.

  And remembering the woman with pale eyes and no name. In fact, it was startling how much he’d thought about her. How many times he’d replayed what they had done.

  Even now, he could feel her in his arms. He could taste her lips. Smell her heady scent. And feel the tightness of her body. So vivid, so exciting. His body nearly itched to touch her again. A nameless woman who’d hooked up with a stranger, then left. So unlike Katie. So unlike any woman he’d ever imagined himself with. But then, he’d only imagined being with Katie, hadn’t he? Until now.

  “You know,” his grandfather said slowly, and Jensen blinked back to his grandfather. He braced himself for what was coming. They’d had this talk before. It always started this way. He didn’t want to hear it again.

  “You can’t just hole yourself up here with an old man. You got to do a little living.”

  Jensen set his mug down, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have been living. And I’m not holing myself up. I’m here to take over the business you started. I want to do that.”

  “But that was never your plan.”

  “Well,” Jensen said with a sigh, levering himself away from the counter, “it is now.”

  “Jensen, I just want you to be happy.”

  He smiled at his grandfather, trying to keep the gesture as genuine as possible. “I am happy.”

  His grandfather peered at him for a moment, studying him with eyes so much like Jensen’s own. Then he turned back to his puzzle. The scratch of the pencil resumed.

  “ Don ’t think that I didn’t notice that you didn’t deny the old-man thing,” his grandfather said after a few moments.

  Jensen chuckled, that response not forced. He picked up his coffee and rejoined him at the table. Riffling through the paper, he found another section. The sports pages hadn’t managed to hold his attention-maybe something else would. He perused the local news section, pausing on an article about a mysterious beast spotted near a farm a few townships over. This was the second article about this creature in the past week.

  He shook his head as he read the newest sensationalized report. A giant beast. A wild wolf. Perhaps a mythical creature.

  Try a coyote. A feral dog, at the most exciting.

  “You got plans tonight?”

  Jensen frowned up from the article. Was Granddad still fishing for more information?

  Instead of answering, Jensen asked, “Have you heard all this nonsense about the ‘wolf’ sightings?”

  Granddad looked up from his puzzle. “Gordon Banks said he’s seen it out on Route 219, near Shady Fork. He says it’s nothing like anything he’s seen before.”

  Jensen stared at his grandfather for a moment, trying to gauge if he was making light of Gordon Banks’s claim. After all, the same man also maintained he’d seen a UFO out at the old fairgrounds.

  But Jensen couldn’t read his expression before the older man returned his attention to his crossword.

  “So you didn’t answer me? Are you going out tonight?”

  Jensen sighed. “Nope. I’m planning to stay in tonight.” Going out had proven to be too much. Much, much more than he’d ever imagined.

  As if on cue, the phone rang, piercing the quiet.

  Lord, he hoped it wasn’t Brian or Jill. So far they hadn’t called to reprimand him for slipping out on them when he’d excused himself to use the rest room. He wasn’t in a frame of mind to hear their irritation with him-he was irritated enough with himself. Not for the same reasons, of course, but he still wasn’t ready to talk to them.

  Jensen answered the phone on the third ring, taking the maize-colored receiver from the cradle. His grandfather’s phone was still the ancient rotary style mounted to the kitchen wall.

  “Hello?”

  “Jensen? Is that you, dear?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Anderson. How are you?” Mrs. Anderson was the widow his granddad had been “dating” for years.

  “Fine, dear. Fine. Your grandfather says you aren’t getting out enough.”

  Jensen laughed slightly. Apparently Granddad was sharing that sentiment with everyone.

  “I’m fine, Mrs. Anderson.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t sound like she believed him.

  “Let me get Granddad for you.”

  Jensen handed the phone to his grandfather, and listened as the older man made plans for the evening. Jensen took a sip of his coffee. What was the woman from last night doing now? How could he find her again?

  He set down his mug with more force than necessary. What was he thinking? He’d had enough “good time.” Despite what his body and wandering mind might think, staying holed up here seemed the best course of action.

  Elizabeth fiddled with the magnification of her microscope, growing more frustrated by the second as she couldn’t seem to fine-tune the sample into focus. The cells on the slide shrank and enlarged with each twist, but never came into sharp detail as they should.

  She made a low noise in the back of her throat, then straightened from the apparatus. The muscles in her back protested, tight with tension, and she blamed it on leaning over her research for too long. But she knew that wasn’t the cause. Just as she knew the inability to focus the slide wasn’t the microscope’s fault.

  Just like she knew that the ache between her thighs wasn’t still noticeable because of last night’s activities.

  No, the ache there had changed and morphed, going from a reminder of what she’d done to a nagging prompt to repeat the performance. The restlessness was growing inside her-again. And now she understood what her body was tense for
. Sex. But not just any sex. Sex with him. Jensen.

  Don ’t go there, she told herself. And not for the first time in the last few hours. But her mind didn’t listen. Again she was reliving last night, the way Jensen-the mortal male-had felt buried deep inside her. Stretching her, filling her.

  She closed her eyes. He’d taken her desperately, forcefully-their mating had been wild, uncontrolled.

  It was just sex, she told herself, also not for the first time. But again, her body-and her mind, for that matter-didn’t believe her claim.

  Jensen had been different, although not in a way she could define exactly. There was a tenderness in his ferocity. His hands strong, his movements powerful, his eyes haunted.

  She kept remembering his eyes. Beautiful eyes like a deep, lush forest, varying shades of greens and browns. She’d seen something in those eyes.

  “Yeah, lust,” she muttered to the empty room. Well, the almost empty room. She crossed over to the opening in the plastic, peeking out at the barn. The owls still sat on the rafters, right where they had been last night. Only today, they weren’t alone, either. She glanced over to see a black-and-white creature curled in a tight ball in a nest of hay.

  A skunk. The little creature had been in the barn when she came in this morning. He’d waddled around, completely unconcerned with her presence. It had only peered at her, rooted for more bugs to chomp on, and then made itself a bed in the old hay. No scrambling away in fear. No spraying-thank God.

  Something was definitely up with the animals in West Virginia. Including herself.

  “No sense of self-preservation,” she stated to the sleeping menagerie. One owl opened a golden eye, then they all continued to sleep.

  She ducked back into her lab, shaking her head. Too strange. She couldn’t believe any animal-with the exception of humans, who were notoriously unobservant-would sleep in her presence. She’d never seen that kind of behavior in all her years of lycanthropy.

  She had to admit, she rather liked the company, no matter how unorthodox it was. It could be lonely here. Of course, she’d take loneliness any day, given her other choice. Briefly, she recalled the days with her pack. With Brody. No, loneliness was better.