Filthy Wolf

by Liza Street

  Barnum groaned and shoved the RV again. As it rocked back into place, Marcus guided Jessica once again to the shadows between the tractor and RV. Just in time, as Barnum was coming around to walk past them.

  His footsteps squelched in the mud and he tripped again, but he didn’t fall. Jessica watched his retreating back as he continued on. Marcus’s arm on her shoulder was a warm reassurance.

  Long after Barnum was out of sight, Marcus said, “Okay. We need to go.”

  “Blythe?” Jessica said quietly through the nearest RV window. “I’ll come again when I can.”

  “No, don’t risk it,” Blythe whispered back. “I’ll be all right. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to fight off monsters.”

  Jessica knew Blythe was trying to prove her toughness, but the thought of her needing to fight for safety gave Jessica a pang of sorrow.

  “Take care,” Jessica whispered.

  And then Marcus was pulling her by the hand—out of the shadows of the RV and over to the shadows of what looked like an old food truck. They hop-scotched through the dump from one clump of wreckage to another, although she noticed he gave a wide berth to one large structure. She guessed it was someone else’s living quarters.

  He froze next to the school bus, his hand tightening on Jessica’s shoulder. She looked over at him in question. He lifted his arm to point up, and she realized—it had stopped raining.

  He muttered a curse, then held out his arms. Jessica knew what he was offering without words, and she nodded. He picked her up, and then he ran with her to the trees. Jessica had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from clacking together with each of his bouncing steps. There was no graceful way to ride in his arms like this, so she held on to his shoulder with one hand and wrapped her other arm around his neck.

  Once they were in the shelter of the trees, Marcus slowed his pace. Jessica didn’t have to hold on so tightly anymore, but she did anyway, because holding tight to him felt good.

  All the way back to the trailer, he carried her. Their clothes were damp from the rain, but Jessica wasn’t cold. Yet when they reached the trailer and he set her down so they could go inside, he didn’t remain in contact like she wished. Instead, he waited for her to go inside and he hesitated in the doorway.

  “Aren’t you going to sleep here?” she asked.

  “Maybe I should stay in my own cabin.”

  “Why?”

  He made a face. “I’d rather not say. Short answer is I’m trying to be honorable.”

  A flash of irritation washed over her. Why was he resisting the pull between them? “Do you mean ‘honorable’ like you were this morning with your hand in my panties?”

  “Fuck, Jessica. That’s exactly it. I don’t want to be a monster.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. The only monster she’d been aware of was the monster of an orgasm he’d given her.

  But speaking of monsters, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to fall asleep after nearly getting crushed by that guy in the dump.

  Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she said, “Can you at least wait until I fall asleep?”

  His eyes softened and he nodded. “Okay. Probably a good idea to stick around for a few minutes, make sure we weren’t followed.”

  He sat on the far end of the trailer while she changed into her night shirt and took off her shoes, socks, and jeans. She faced the other way, but she hoped he was watching. She hoped he was tempted. The adrenaline she’d felt in the dump and on their rush back to the trailer was still coursing through her veins.

  A low rumble filled the trailer, and as soon as her shirt was on, she spun around to look at him. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” His voice was throaty, like the rumble.

  “Were you…growling?”

  “Maybe. Go to sleep, Jane.”

  Laughing to herself, she lay down and pulled the blanket over her legs. Then she stared up at the ceiling. Neither of them said anything for a full minute.

  She couldn’t sleep, not with questions and desire buzzing through her. So she said the first thing that popped into her mind.

  “Why did you finger me earlier, if you don’t want to mess around?”

  “Let’s talk about anything else,” he said.

  “Do you think it was a mistake?”

  “Fuck no. Touching you could never be a mistake.”

  Huffing in exasperation, she said, “Then what is it?”

  “I told you. I’m no good for you.”

  “Then be better.” She turned onto her side and leaned up on an elbow so she could glare in his direction.

  “I’m trying.” He said it so quietly, she barely heard the words. Clearing his throat, he added, “What about you? What’s your life like—what do you want to do?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said.

  “That’s not true.”

  “Damn you and your lie-sniffing.” She sighed and lay back down, but she remained facing him. “I don’t know what kind of work would go with this, but I really love plants.”

  “Like gardening?” he asked.

  “No. I mean, I like that, too. But I like learning about different kinds of plants, what they do, how they interact with animals and each other. Some studies have shown that plants can recognize their siblings, and they compete less with them for resources than they would with unrelated plants.”

  “Wow,” he said. “I had no idea.”

  “And there’s a plant in the Philippines that can eat rats.”

  “Seriously?”

  She grinned. “You didn’t detect a lie in my voice, did you?”

  His laughter was a low rumble. “No, I didn’t. It’s incredible. Rats, really?”

  “Yep. Nepenthes attenboroughii. It’s a pitcher plant.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “They’re so cool. They have this sac thing, shaped like a pitcher. It’s full of fluid that attracts insects—or, in the case of Nepenthese attenboroughii, rats. Then the fluid digests the prey.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “And you just know the scientific name, off the top of your head?”

  “I don’t know most scientific names,” she admitted. “But I like the sound of this one, and it’s named after David Attenborough—you know, the guy who narrates all those nature films?”

  “No, I don’t know him.”

  “Then you are missing out. When we get out of this place, that’s the first thing we’ll do—watch Planet Earth.”

  When he didn’t say anything, she cleared her throat. “I said, we’ll watch Planet Earth.”

  “Jessica. Nobody’s going to let me out of the Junkyard. I’m not in here by mistake.”

  “Well, you don’t deserve to be in here.”

  He didn’t respond. She was getting tired of his broody silences. Then, finally, he whispered, “Goodnight, Jessica.”

  “Goodnight, Marcel.” She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling until her heavy eyelids closed and sleep came.

  14

  The past three days had been some of the happiest in Marcus’s life. Every morning, he left his cabin before the sun rose. Instead of roaming the lakeshore or the northern boundary of the Junkyard like he used to do, he loped toward Jessica’s camp trailer.

  Each day, they sparred, they talked, and they teased each other. Running through mock punches and kicks put them close physically, which he enjoyed. But he also liked the good-natured shit-talking that went along with it. He found himself making internal lists of names that started with J, so he’d always have a new one ready to call her. When she really wanted to tease Marcus, Jessica would come up with a ridiculous, deep voice and adopt what she called a “resting brood face.”

  There was laughter, there was touching. It was getting more and more difficult to keep from truly touching her, beyond what the sparring allowed. He’d had a taste, that one morning, of the sweetness she had to offer. He knew what she sounded like when she came. He’d felt the rhythmic pulsing
of her pussy around his fingers, he’d felt her body shake with tremors afterward.

  Yesterday had been the hardest and the best. She had leaped at him when he wasn’t looking, and he’d gone down, falling on his ass. Falling was inevitable, with his center of balance out of whack because of her weight. But he’d slowed down the fall as much as possible so she wouldn’t get hurt.

  And where she’d landed? Straddling his waist, her hands on his shoulders.

  They’d stared at each other for a long moment. The heat of her legs around his waist, against his cock, was a siren call.

  He longed to sit up, grab the back of her neck, and kiss her senseless while she rubbed against him.

  But then she’d abruptly scrambled off of his lap and crawled over to a blooming yellow flower.

  “Look,” she’d exclaimed, her brown eyes shining with excitement. “It’s a Plumas rayless daisy!”

  He’d squatted next to her. “What random fact do you know about this one?”

  “No random facts,” she said. “I just like them. I first saw them at the writing intensive and looked it up in one of the nature books they had in the dining hall. Look at their happy little blossoms.”

  “Yes, they look ecstatic,” he agreed in a deadpan voice.

  She tugged on his arm. “They are. I wonder what else is around that I didn’t know about?”

  Marcus hadn’t had an answer for her, but the conversation had given him an idea. That night, after waiting until she fell asleep in her trailer, he’d found a mostly-blank notebook in his cabin, left there by Carter or a previous occupant. After tearing out the couple of pages with random scrawls on them, he spent the pre-dawn hours scouring the woods and clearings.

  And now he was on his way to Stetson’s den to see whether his idea was even possible.

  For his den, Stetson had cobbled together an old van and added on something at the back with corrugated sheet metal and other scraps, including some car doors. Marcus had never taken a good look at the place; he’d never needed to, but he imagined Stetson had a spot inside where he kept all those books he pretended to read.

  When Marcus approached, Stetson was sitting outside his den on an upside-down ice chest and leaning against the dusty blue exterior of the van, a book open in his hands and a cowboy hat pulled low over his forehead.

  “You’re really leaning into the whole Stetson thing, aren’t you?” Marcus asked, gesturing at Stetson’s hat.

  “This ain’t a Stetson hat,” he responded. His voice was always scratchy, and Marcus wondered if it was because he didn’t talk much.

  Marcus could imagine Jessica’s retort, But it’s Stetson’s hat, get it? And his lips twitched.

  “What kinds of books do you have?” Marcus asked.

  Stetson shrugged. “Whatever they bring me.”

  Holding his notebook tightly in the crook of his arm, Marcus said, “I’m looking for something about the plants in this area.”

  “Didn’t take you for a naturalist,” Stetson said.

  Marcus wasn’t going to lie to a shifter, so he kept quiet.

  After tucking a piece of paper into his open book, Stetson closed it, stood up, and set it gently, almost reverently, on the overturned cooler. “I might have something about plants, don’t know if it’ll be for this area.”

  Marcus waited outside while Stetson opened the van door and climbed inside. The van shifted slightly as Stetson moved around.

  Stetson returned a couple of minutes later with three books in his hands. One was Michael Pollan’s The Botany of Desire, one was Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, and the third was a guidebook of plants in the western U.S.

  “Can I trade you something for these?” Marcus asked. He guessed Jessica would be most interested in the guidebook, but the other two couldn’t hurt, with titles like those.

  Stetson’s gold eyes were evaluating. “Sure.”

  “What do you want? I could do some fishing for you.”

  “Already stole the catch you left by the lake last week.”

  Marcus had forgotten all about those. “My pole, too?”

  “Yep.” He reached into his den and pulled out Marcus’s fishing pole.

  “You can keep it,” Marcus said. “For the books.”

  Nodding, Stetson said, “Deal.”

  Marcus nodded his thanks, tucked the books into the crook of his arm with the notebook, and headed northeast toward Jessica’s trailer.

  He was arriving later than usual, and he worried that she’d be anxious. But when he reached the trailer, she wasn’t outside the rear of the trailer watching for him like she had been the past couple of days.

  “Jessica?” he called softly.

  No answer. She wouldn’t have left again like she’d done before. He’d just checked in on Blythe yesterday morning and reported to Jessica that all was fine—Blythe was tired of being cooped up, but she was safe and still getting plenty to eat and drink; Jase was making sure of that.

  He dropped the books and notebook on a flat rock and hurried around to the front of the trailer.

  Jessica was sitting next to the gravel boundary, eating breakfast with Caitlyn. It was Caitlyn who saw Marcus first, and she lifted her fork in a wave. Jessica turned around then, her brown eyes immediately locking with Marcus’s.

  He didn’t know what it was—relief at finding her after worrying about her? Happiness because she made his heart feel lighter? Or the constant, pure, unadulterated desire urging him to possess her? Whatever the hell it was, it was impossible to ignore. He marched forward, held out his hand. When she grabbed it, he lifted her up and slanted his head toward hers, then took her mouth in a kiss so thorough it caused his inner wolf to howl in triumph.

  Sweet maple syrup flavored her hot, wet mouth. All thoughts floated from his mind, replaced with the need to hold her and listen to her soft moans.

  From her chair on the other side of the gravel line, Caitlyn whistled and clapped.

  Marcus let go of Jessica and stared into her eyes. He didn’t speak, but he was promising more. “Later,” he said.

  Jessica nodded at him, her chocolate eyes dilated and lust-drunk.

  “Well,” Caitlyn said, amusement in her voice. “I should probably get to work. If you want to pass your empty plate over, Jessica…?”

  With her cheeks turning pink, Jessica said, “Yes, of course. Thank you so much for breakfast—it was delicious.”

  Jessica stepped away from Marcus so she could pass over her dishes. Caitlyn said goodbye with a smirk on her face and walked back to her cabin, picking her way through the long grasses that filled the clearing between the cabin and the trailer. Once she was out of sight, Jessica turned to Marcus.

  “Mahatma, you wanna tell me what that kiss was about?”

  “I hardly know.” He shook his head. “My wolf wanted it. I wanted it. I’m tired of not kissing you. You’re too hard to resist, Jacinda.”

  Jessica opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then closed it again.

  “What is it?” Marcus asked.

  She shook her head. “Let’s just practice fighting stuff.”

  He looked at her. “Really. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

  “Fine,” she said, a stubborn tilt to her head. “Show me your wolf.”

  “My wolf,” he said, his heart pounding.

  “Yep. Caitlyn and I talked about all kinds of stuff—including what it’s like being a human around shifters. I haven’t seen anyone turn into an animal. I’m starting to believe shifters aren’t really a thing. So, why don’t you show me?”

  Why didn’t he show her? Because he didn’t want to scare her off. She was human, he was a shifter. They were different, and he remembered her fear the night they’d met. She’d seen a wild animal and she’d been terrified.

  “You’re afraid,” Jessica said.

  “I’m scared of you being scared.”

  “Well, that’s ridiculous.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Don’t underestimate
me, Morpheus.”

  He took off his shirt and inwardly preened as her eyes got bigger.

  “Three things,” he said.

  She nodded.

  He went on, “First thing is, I’m still me when I’m the wolf. I hear you, I understand you.”

  “Okay. That’s what Caitlyn said.”

  “The second thing is, I don’t look like a fluffy pet dog. I look like a wolf. It might be frightening.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  He started working on the buttons of his jeans.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “That’s the third thing. If I don’t want to destroy my clothes, I have to get naked before I shift. Turn around if you want.”

  He was pleased when she didn’t turn around. He unfastened his pants and shoved them down. No need to take off underwear; he usually went commando.

  When he was fully nude, he said, “Ready?”

  She nodded, her eyes locked on his face. He tried not to grin, because he could tell she wanted to look at all of him, but she was resisting so hard.

  Closing his eyes, he dropped to all fours and called his wolf forward. The brilliant light of the shift was visible through his eyelids. He felt his spine bow and shift, followed by his shoulders. The rest of his bones snapped and reformed, and his muscles lengthened and rearranged themselves. His skin itched as fur sprouted.

  Before the shift was over, he opened his eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jessica through the white energy that surrounded him. All he could make out was her silhouette, but she hadn’t moved. He hadn’t scared her off, yet. Maybe it would be better for her if he did scare her off. If she ran away now, she wouldn’t have time to get attached to him.

  The light faded and he had an unobstructed view of her. He rolled his neck, stretched forward to work the kinks out of his back—it had been awhile since he’d taken his wolf form.

  “Wow,” Jessica breathed.

  He sensed no fear in her, and even though he’d been half-hoping for her to run a moment ago, he was glad she wasn’t afraid. He closed the distance between them with a few steps, then stood in front of her, waiting to see what she’d do.

  “You’re so pretty,” she said.