by RJ Blain
I tasted blood. I longed for the satisfying crunch of bone beneath my jaws, but Idette yanked away from me, leaving me with a mouthful of fur. My wife’s attention turned to me, and she snapped her fangs at my throat.
Terror surged through my cheetah, and in my desperation to avoid her bite, I twisted onto my back, lifted my foreleg, and jammed my paw into her mouth, stretching my neck so I could sink my teeth into her throat.
Instead of flesh, I bit down on fur.
The white and black wolf was no match for either me or Idette in size, but she made up for her small physique in brute force, slamming all of her weight into my wife’s flank. The two bitches rolled away from me, snapping and clawing in their determination to overpower the other.
I hadn’t hurt Idette nearly as much as she had hurt me, but the slashes I had inflicted on her muzzle remained, and the smaller bitch took advantage of the injuries, slapping her paw against the open wounds.
The fresh blood filling the air drove my spirit beasts into a frenzy, and their desire to join the smaller bitch in the fight surged. My broken leg refused to hold my weight, but I staggered to my paws, shuddering at the pain stabbing along the length of my spine to burst in my head.
I stood on three paws, snarling as I sought an opportunity to join in the fray. Idette slammed her shoulder into the smaller wolf, knocking her aside. The other bitch yipped, and the pained sound spurred my spirit beasts.
Idette’s back faced me, and while she had her head ducked to protect herself, she had either forgotten about me or didn’t believe I was a risk. Mindful of the fact a stiff breeze could probably knock me over, I planned on falling and taking my wife with me. I bit down on the thick muscle of her thigh and used my weight to drag her to the ground.
I dug my claws into her back and tore at her fur while the smaller wolf snapped and snarled. With my grip so weak, it didn’t take much for Idette to yank free, howling her fury. Surging back to her feet, she charged the marbled white and black wolf, who dodged to the side to avoid being flattened.
I expected the two bitches to engage each other again, but Idette ran deeper into the trees. Several faint cries answered her calling howl. In the time it took me to draw several shuddering breaths, the red and gold wolf vanished into the night.
The white and black wolf stared at me with her ears twisted back and her body tense. Blood dripped from her jaws, but I couldn’t tell if it belonged to her or Idette. She kept between me and Idette as though she expected me to get up and chase after my psychotic wife.
I feared I wouldn’t be free until Idette was dead, but I hoped the injuries I had inflicted on her as a cheetah warned her I would fight to my dying breath. When I could breathe without panting, I forced myself upright, hobbling on three legs while keeping a wary eye on the small wolf.
Her attention focused on my injured leg, which I held off the ground. I twisted my head around and wondered what she was thinking as she took in my blood-matted fur. The pain was intense enough I expected the bone to be visibly broken, but it wasn’t. My wolf urged me to clean my fur for a better look, and I obeyed, although I kept a careful watch on the small female.
Gashes marked my leg where Idette had grabbed and thrown me, but I had stopped bleeding. Relieved, I went to work licking away the evidence of my fight with my wife while I had been a cheetah.
Through the entire process, the white and black wolf kept quiet and still. The fury in her scent had faded, and there was something familiar about her, although I couldn’t quite place her scent.
If my spirit beasts knew, they remained quiet, their exhaustion worse than mine. Without any threats to keep them on edge, they fell into slumber, and I wished I could join them in sleep.
Without their guidance, I wasn’t really sure what my wolf nose was telling me. As a cheetah, I would have been better equipped to deal with the barrage of scents, but I hesitated to attempt a shift. I didn’t even know if I could rouse my spirit beasts enough to call on them for the transition.
I didn’t dare to become human again, either.
Until I knew what the small female intended, I couldn’t let my guard down or put myself in a position of weakness. The memory of illness coupled with not knowing how the transformation would affect my broken leg limited my options to staying a wolf until I could ensure my survival.
The thought of Idette working with a man like Douglass Roberts dismayed me. Had the man busted his way out of prison, or had my wife helped him with her knowledge of the prison system and the security maintained during prisoner transfers?
I had hunted her but killed him instead. I should have felt at least some remorse for my deed. I should have regretted my decision to end a human life.
Maybe my spirit beasts had changed me more than physically; I had a difficult time viewing Douglass Roberts as anything other than an eliminated threat or prey. I recognized the patterns Idette’s wolves had been dancing around the man, but unlike me, he was a willing conspirator rather than unwilling victim.
Roberts had wanted to become a werewolf—a Fenerec—by choice, but he had discarded his humanity long ago. I had, too.
I had been Idette’s victim instead of willing pawn. I couldn’t repay the debt I owed my wolf for what he had done, but I refused to waste his sacrifice. Surviving was only the beginning. For both my spirit beasts, and for myself, I would hunt Idette and her pack. I would no longer live in my wife’s shadows, bound by invisible chains of fear and uncertainty.
I would heal, I would fight again, and I would win.
Before my wolf had come along, killing a human had never been an option, which alarmed me almost as much as the knowledge I had already claimed a life. Killing Douglass Roberts had been so simple.
The world didn’t need more monsters in it.
I took my time grooming my fur, marveling over the many gashes I had survived. I didn’t even remember getting the majority of them. Most of the bleeding had stopped, leaving my broken leg as the worst of my injuries. Through it all, the white and black wolf watched me and kept her distance, her ears pricking forward when I ignored her presence.
After she lost interest and left, I would find a place to den and heal. I tested my leg, shuddering at the stabbing pain. Until I healed, I wouldn’t be able to hunt unless my prey decided it was tired of life and wandered into my open mouth. I turned my ears back and wondered how long it would take me to starve.
Once my spirits beasts roused, I would attempt to shift back to a cheetah. If transforming didn’t help the bone heal, I had no idea what I would do. A wolf who couldn’t hunt couldn’t survive.
The female continued to watch me in silence.
Without my wolf or cheetah offering advice, I had no idea what the female wanted. Unless she showed aggression, I decided it didn’t matter.
Survival came first, and the rest could wait. Walking on three paws hurt. I didn’t put any weight on the broken bone, but each step jarred my leg, and throbbing pain shot through me, triggering cascading waves of nausea.
The female followed me.
Uncertain what to make of her, I kept an eye on her while I hunted for a place to hide and rest. I should have driven her off, but instead, I breathed in deep to try to isolate her scent. Without my spirit beasts aiding me, it took several tries to identify her sweet spice.
There was something familiar about her scent, and I took several more breaths to commit it to memory. Although aware of Marcello’s claim Andrea was supposed to be my mate, I was intrigued by the wolf who had faced off against Idette.
Until I could hunt, water would be the difference between life and death, so I wandered until I found a stream weaving through the trees. High banks curved down to the rocky shore. I followed it until I located a spot where the waters had cut beneath the roots of an old tree, leaving behind a gap large enough for me to hide and heal. I whined at the thought of making the descent, but before I could lose my nerve, I hopped down, yipping when my weight landed on my injured leg.
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sp; I tumbled the rest of the way down and splashed into the stream. The cold water numbed me. I clawed my way to shore, shuddering as the chill soaked through my coat. Warbling complaints didn’t dry me or make the pain in my leg ease. Bracing my weight to shake hurt, but I managed. The female hopped down to join me with far more grace, and her tongue lolled out of her mouth in canine laughter.
Without the full use of my hind leg, I couldn’t expand the space I’d chosen, and sighing my resignation to my situation, I crammed myself as deep into the opening as I could. The female joined me, doing what I couldn’t to make enough space in the niche for her as well. I watched her work.
I fell asleep before she finished.
The next several days went by in a pain-filled blur. It wasn’t until both of my spirit beasts awoke I truly began to heal. Despite the close proximity of the water, I lacked the strength to crawl out of my hiding place and down the bank to drink.
I did emerge several times, but I stayed near my den, careful not to put any weight on my injured leg. The water tempted me each time, but I returned to my niche and curled up to wait until I no longer ached.
Through it all, I was aware of the female’s presence, although I paid her little attention. She spent her time either curled beside me in our hiding spot or pacing along the water’s edge, staring at me with glowing yellow eyes. She tried to coax me out a few times, but she gave up when I refused to move.
The moon had thinned to a sliver in the sky when the female left, climbing the bank to hunt. I listened and sniffed the air, and when I was certain I was alone, I crawled out of hiding as well, limping to the water’s edge.
I lowered my head to drink the flowing water beyond the iced shore. The cold numbed my tongue and cramped my stomach, but I ignored the discomfort until I couldn’t stand the thought of another swallow. I tested my weight on my hind paw, and pleased when it no longer throbbed, I limped along the stream’s edge.
I drew in a deep breath to catch the female’s scent. The fading evidence of her presence lingered in the air. For a moment, I considered following her but decided against it. I also considered resuming my hunt of Idette. My cheetah was eager to be rid of her, but my wolf’s lack of interest puzzled me.
Idette no longer mattered to him at all; replacing his desire for bloodshed was a different instinct, one my cheetah savored. The ice on the stream and the cold in the air stirred different desires. Unlike wolves, cheetahs mated throughout the year, although mine had shown little interest in any female other than Andrea.
Cheetah males didn’t bond to one female as wolves did, and the difference in their natures resulted in a pitched argument in my head.
My cheetah adored Andrea, but he was willing enough to mate with any female who wanted him. My wolf wanted Andrea and would accept no alternative until he had a chance to claim her.
Until I was free from Idette—or at least happily divorced and out of her reach—I didn’t want any female. Maybe my spirit beasts agreed on the woman, but I was the one who refused.
Idette had done enough forcing for an entire lifetime, and I refused to put a woman through what I had been through. Andrea didn’t want me. Her emotionless expression and ready scowls were all the proof I needed.
If I found another woman, I wanted to make her as happy as she made me, if such a thing was possible. I shouldn’t have let Marcello’s comments get under my skin—or build impossible hope.
I stepped into the water to cover my tracks and followed the stream deeper into the woods. When I was certain no one watched, I shifted from wolf to cheetah and ran until I couldn’t take another step.
Wolves hunted me, and I regretted a cheetah’s inability to roar, not that a pack of wolves would be frightened off by even a lion. My spirit beasts growled through me. I took to the trees again, climbing far out of the reach of the wolves prowling the forest floor.
The marbled white and black bitch ran with them, and I swallowed my growls so they wouldn’t lead the pack to me. My wolf was intrigued by the pack. There were six large males, the white and black bitch, and another larger female, and none of them had a natural coat. One was striped like a zebra, but instead of white and black, he was red and tan. Another was solid red with yellow rings around his tail.
The wolf who caught and held my attention was black with yellow paws. He nipped the marbled black and white female, rebuking her for a reason I couldn’t discern. He tried to nip her neck and drape his paw over her shoulder, but she dodged him with yips and snarls.
Her tail was clamped between her legs, but the other males did nothing to stop the larger wolf’s harassment. I drew in a deep breath and the potency of the male’s arousal made my nose itch.
The scent infuriated my wolf and cheetah.
The female denied the male, and yet he persisted, and my anger spiked as well.
I should have avoided the pack of wolves, but the thought of leaving the female to fend off the male when the rest of the pack wouldn’t defend her sickened me. I hopped down from one branch to another, sinking my claws into the wood. I flattened my ears, calculating the distance to the ground.
All I had to do was chase him off or force him to chase me. I would harass him as he harassed her until he gave up his attempts to mate with her. I flexed my claws, picked my path down the tree’s trunk, threw myself towards the ground, and charged the pack.
Cheetah’s couldn’t roar, but I screamed a challenge, shrill and short. The black and yellow wolf was at least twice my size, but I caught him by surprise, slamming against him and raking my claws across his back and shoulders. He howled his fury and dismay, and the scent of his blood drove my spirit beasts into a frenzy. I disengaged, and within two strides, I hit my full speed, racing through the trees.
The male was fast, but I was faster, and I circled through the trees to ambush him time and time again as he sought to hunt me down for interrupting him. I chirped taunts at him, luring him deeper into the woods.
The rest of his pack howled, and their calls surrounded me. I chittered and chirped more insults, spitting and hissing to stir the wolf’s anger. His answering snarls promised death if he caught me.
I purred my laughter, flitting from behind trunks of trees and brush to flick my tail at him.
The other wolves followed, but they didn’t interfere, watching me as I watched the male who had bothered my female. My possessiveness startled me, but my wolf approved.
She was a good female, and she had rejected the other male’s advancements. When I returned to a wolf, I would be more cautious in my courting.
She had, after all, followed me.
I circled the wolf. His blood matted his fur. He bared his teeth at me and barked a warning. Hissing a reply, I kept my distance, lashing my tail in annoyance.
While he had ignored the female’s refusals, he hadn’t taken her by force. He didn’t deserve death, nor did I savor the thought of eating a wolf. He wasn’t prey, and my hunger annoyed another hiss out of me.
The male’s nose twitched as he breathed in my scent, and both of his ears cocked forward. I prowled around him, spitting more feline curses at him in rebuke of his behavior. The other wolves in the pack drew closer, but the only one to approach me was the marbled white and black female. She came within several strides of me, and like the male who had been harassing her, her ears pricked forward and she breathed in my scent.
One of her ears turned back, and she took a hesitant step forward, snuffling and sniffing as though she couldn’t believe what her nose was telling her. I kept an eye on the male, and he drew back several paces, retreating to one of the other wolves.
Where I had dwarfed her as a wolf, she was larger than I was as a cheetah and easily beat me in weight. I focused all of my attention on her as she sidled up to me. She slid her nose under my throat, bumping my chin with the top of her head.
My wolf approved of the way she submitted to me.
Maybe she was bigger than me, but I shoved my shoulder against her, overbalanced h
er, and drove her to the ground. I planted my paw on her shoulder, pressing the tips of my claws into her skin to warn her against struggling. I lowered my head and dragged my rough tongue over her fur and groomed her while the other wolves watched.
When I was certain I had all their attention, I rubbed my head against hers to mark her with my scent. My purrs rumbled, and I sank onto the ground beside her, draping my forelegs along her back and shoulders. I rested my chin on her neck and beat the ground with my tail, daring the wolves to try to take the female away from me.
The pack kept their distance.
Chapter Fifteen
The female was docile beneath me, resting her head on her paws while I watched the wolves. Hunger cramped my belly, and my wolf thirsted for the hunt, but until I figured out how to escape the wolves and take my female with me, I would keep my paws draped possessively across her shoulders.
Purring soothed me probably more than it did the female I held captive. I couldn’t scent any distress from her, although her body remained tense beneath mine. When the wolves stayed away, I relaxed my guard to lick her fur and groom her. In some ways, there was little difference between a cheetah and a wolf.
While my leg no longer hurt, I hadn’t hunted as well as I should have as a cheetah. Without the wolves actively threatening me or my female, I trembled from a blend of weakness and fatigue.
I needed to hunt, and once my feline had eaten his fill, I needed to hunt again as a wolf. When both of my spirit beasts were satisfied, I could rest. I had healed, but I hadn’t recovered. Taunting the wolf pack had worn me thin.
I rested my head over my female’s neck and shivered. With a soft whine, she twisted her head around, licking at my shoulder and prodding me with her nose. It was too much work to lift my head, so I intensified my purr.
The red and tan male approached, his head ducked to protect his throat. I turned my ears back and slapped my tail against the ground.