“I was thinking of making pot pie for supper tonight,” I said, trying small talk.
“Sounds good,” Reid said and indicated to turn. I hesitated a moment when he didn’t add anything.
“The business is going well,” I said again. “I’ve gotten five new clients in the last month. There are a few new wives at the base that we’re trying to draw in.”
That’s good, honey,” Reid said. I didn’t know if he’d heard a word I’d said. I sold beauty products from home. It was easier that way to keep a career going if we needed to move suddenly. It happened from time to time. We were a group of women at the base that all had husbands that were away often, and we sold to and bought from each other and created support groups. I saw it as our duty to pull in the new wives, the ones that wouldn’t understand what it was like. That didn’t know yet, and needed a shoulder to cry on after the first deployment.
Ask any of the military wives, and they’ll tell you that it’s not easy. The first few months are always the worst, shooting up to an ecstatic high about the base and the benefits of a military life, right down to the depressing low of deployment and the realization that you have to experience a lot key events alone. Like birthdays and Christmas.
I’d gotten used to this life fairly quickly. It had helped that Charlene had gotten a hold of me before the wedding and told me what to expect. Still, missing Reid’s birthday, or missing a Christmas together still hurt sometimes. What I still found the hardest were the times that Reid came home, but he never really came home. And I was starting to get the idea that his cheerful greeting had been a little misleading. He’d tried, bless him, he’d tried for me. But he wasn’t home. Not yet.
His head was somewhere on the battle field, and he was on autopilot.
He walked into the house, not holding the door for me or letting me walk first. I let it slide. Patience was the key to a good relationship, Charlene had told me. Reid dumped his bag in the bedroom and sat down in front of the television.
“I’m going to be in the kitchen,” I announced. I started making the food. I’d prepared meat and vegetables the day before for this, but still needed to make the crust. I’d hoped Reid would follow me, sit by me and talk to me the way we used to in the beginning, but he didn’t. When the pie was in the oven I walked back to the living room. It was deadly quiet. When I popped my head around the doorpost I saw Reid sitting on the couch, staring at a switched-off television.
“Are you alright?” I asked, and Reid jerked, his head snapping round to look at me. His eyes were so bright they were almost glowing, and they looked wild. His beast slid behind them.
“Hey, it’s just me,” I said in a gentle voice and walked into the room so he could see my full body. With his hearing he should have heard me coming. It was impossible to sneak up on a werewolf. Hell, he should have been able to hear me breathe in the kitchen. Instead he’d gotten a fright, like he hadn’t been aware of my presence in the house at all.
“Fine,” he finally answered, and the life came back into his eyes, like a light-bulb that had been dimmed and he’d turned it back up again. He smiled at me, but his hands were balled in fists on his thighs, and the muscles in his back were bundled and tight.
“Food’s almost ready,” I said, walking to him. I sat down next to him on the couch, a few inches away so that we were touching. He could close the gap if he wanted to. I was leaving it up to him – I didn’t want to smother him or force him into something he wasn’t ready for. God knew what he’d seen on the battle field this time.
I took a deep breath and blew it out again. And then another. He didn’t close the gap.
“I think I’m going to head out,” Reid suddenly said. I frowned, looking at his face. It was carefully blank, and I couldn’t read what he was thinking at all.
“Out? But you just got home.”
“I know. I just need some air, stretch my legs. I’ll be home in time for supper.” He stood up and left me sitting alone on the couch. I felt the absence of his heat next to me. At the door he looked at me again, and his eyes didn’t belong to him anymore. They were almost fluorescent and the wolf was looking out at me.
“You’re beautiful,” Reid said. The way he said it made me feel like he thought I was delicious instead. I shuddered when he closed the door behind him, and got up to check on the food.
I expected him to be back in less than half an hour. When the pie was ready I took it out of the oven and dished up for both of us – a normal portion for me, and one as big as the bowl would take for him. And he’d have seconds and thirds until the pie was finished. Soldiers needed a lot of food. Werewolves needed more.
When it rolled on to an hour, the food sat cold and congealed on the table and there was still no sign of Reid. I knew that he needed to get out of the house to get rid of the pent up energy. That wolf of his just wanted out sometimes, and I preferred if he ran it out in the woods rather than change at home. I’d seen him change before, he’d insisted I know what exactly I was getting married to, and even though I loved him despite his… flaws, I didn’t really want to see it again. Not I if I could help it.
But still, an hour seemed like pushing it to me. I’d been mentally adjusting myself to sharing space with someone again. Suddenly being alone was terrible. Another hour later, and Reid finally walked through the door. I’d reheated and eaten my food, and put his in the fridge.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“I told you,” he said, blinking at me.
“You said you would be back before supper.”
I looked at me without answering me for a second, slid his eyes to the empty bowl in the sink. When he looked back at me again he looked guilty.
“Sorry,” he said.
I buried my face in my hands and let my face crumple, let the smile disappear. I gave myself three seconds to pull myself back together, and when I took my hands away again my face was neutral, at least. I couldn’t force a smile, but I wasn’t going to be angry or scream and shout. Instead I walked to him and wrapped my arms around his body. I pressed my head against his chest and heard the drumming of his heart.
He was alive, and that was all that mattered. It didn’t matter what mood he came home in, as long as he came home. I breathed in deeply. The smells of the forest clung to his clothes – pine needles and mud. He closed his arms around me like he had to think about it and make himself do it, but he was hugging me.
I tipped my head up and stood on my toes to kiss him. The kiss was chaste, with tight closed lips and I felt his body stiffen against mine. I tried a little harder, trying to coax him into opening his mouth. Finally he did, and I slid my tongue inside, kissing him properly.
He kissed me back, sort of, and I ran my hands up and down his back. I wanted his body. I’d missed him so much, and I wanted him to show me that I was still the person he wanted to come home to. His kissing changed from detached to urgent like a switch had been flipped, and his hands roamed my body. I sighed against him mouth. My body ached for him, and I willed his hands to find my breasts, to slide down my back and cup my ass, to explore further and deeper.
Suddenly he broke the kiss. We were still intertwined with our arms wrapped around each other, but when he looked at him his eyes were distant. He drew a finger along my jaw, and planted a kiss on my forehead. Then he let me go and walked out of the room, leaving me standing the kitchen gaping and writhing, my body screaming with the loss.
Chapter 2
Reid
Ranger life is a hard life. Not because of the training or the schedule or being away from home that much. It’s a hard life because a lot of what we do is classified information and we can’t tell our wives about it.
I’ve made it worse for myself. Not only was a I a soldier that often went on covert missions I could tell Allegra nothing about, but I was an Army Ranger in the 75th Regiment. It wasn’t like I had to keep it a secret that I was a ranger. As long as I didn’t give out information on where we were and what we wer
e doing, I wasn’t going to step on any toes with who I was. But I was scared I was going to step on Allegra’s toes, being a Ranger.
It was bad enough that she had to accept my wolf. I am a monster, there’s nothing I can say to defend myself against that. My wolf, my beast, is a part of me. When I rage, the best rages. When the beast lusts blood, so do I. When people think of werewolves they think that my curse is only forced out once a month. Those that aren’t wolves would never understand. Curses are a full time thing.
And I didn’t want it to be even worse for Allegra. My wolf was merciless when it came to doing the right thing. And my position in the army asked the same of me in some ways. I was scared – almost certain – that she would never forgive me for it. It was one thing to be a monster. It was another to be heartless. I was scared that she wouldn’t be able to tell the two apart because she was just a human.
She was a human I love fiercely, but she was innocent. She accepted me because she didn’t know better. She’s loved me from the start, and it is that quality in her, the innocent naïve character she has, that makes me believe her that there is still some goodness left. No matter how slim.
I’d been away for nine months. It had been a long stretch, but there had been longer. We’d been in Afghanistan – I couldn’t tell her that – and I’d seen a lot of death. We were six rangers in the team. I was Tactical leader. John, but best friend, was a sniper. We had Harry on ammunitions, Charles on explosives, Carlos as medic and Abdul on communications. The latter was also our translator and interpreter. We took out the big boys. We were dropped off where no one else could go, and we were told to get behind enemy lines, which no one else could do.
We did it, because our senses were sharper. I could smell the enemy miles away if the wind was right. We healed fast, bodies pushing any bullets out. And out in the wild, we could shift and not be a danger.
Allegra was asleep. I could feel her peace seep through the house, her deep breathing filled my ears and I concentrated on her until I could feel her breathing, feel her heart beat in my own body. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to love her and hold her, be home. Instead I’d pushed her away, because I’d been scared.
My pack was my life. When I concentrated on them, I could feel them too. They were all in their separate homes with their wives and children, or with their parents. I felt their absence like missing limbs. We were so bonded to each other, linked like we were all part of one body instead of six separate bodies. We’d been in battle together. We’d been wounded for each other – we would die for each other.
I couldn’t explain to Allegra that coming home was just as torturous as leaving it again. That it didn’t matter where I went, I was always leaving a part of me behind, whether it was her or the pack. I couldn’t explain to her that sometimes, especially after we’d nearly died like this last time, that it was the pack that felt like home, and home that felt like deployment.
I couldn’t explain it in a way that would let her understand, that wouldn’t hurt her and make her think that I wasn’t happy to be with her. My body was torn. If we were all one, then she was the heart, but the pack, my team, were the soul. How could I choose?
I sat on the porch in the dark. The moon was only a sliver, it was still far from full moon, but the silver strip in the sky called to me. I closed my eyes and tipped my head up, feeling the caress of her song on my skin. It made me want to sing back. I’d already gone out and changed once tonight. And I needed it again.
I crept to the bedroom and got undressed, hanging my clothes in the cupboard. It was safer to leave it at home than to leave it in the woods. It was the middle of the night and the base was dark, so no one would see me slip out the back, naked.
When I was outside again the crisp air raised goose bumps on my skin. I walked to the back of the yard, and closed my eyes. I turned my attention to the wolf inside of me, to the restraints I built around it every time I came home. I had to keep the wall up if I wanted to stay as human as possible for Allegra.
One by one I broke down the walls, and the more space it had, the more the wolf thrashed. I could feel my rage climb, wash through my body like a wave of heat and anger, and I threw my head back. I didn’t call to the moon, not yet, but I let the magic spill out of me and crawl over my skin. It drew over my like a blanket, and it burned me everywhere it touched. My body ached, every joint felt like it was being ripped apart on a torture bench.
It doesn’t matter what the myths say. Changing is painful every time.
I dropped to the floor. My hands were already claws, fur on my arms, but it was mottled, not complete yet. Another pain shot through my body and it felt bruised. For a moment I was off balance, I couldn’t find the four legs my wolf was one, or the two legs of my human side. And then, like a baby being born, I slipped into my new form. I stretched out and shook my body. The fur ruffled and then fell back in place, and I was a wolf.
I jumped over the fence into the alley behind the house, and melted from one shadow to the next. I kept my ears open but the night only held the signs of the sleeping. I could hear the rise and fall of peaceful breathing like a dim rush, waves in the distance. Stray cats pawed on cushioned feet between the bins and I could almost hear their caution.
Slowly I made my way back to the far end of the base. The walls were high and thick and laced with electric fencing, but with a run I lunged over. The army had built all their facilities long before lycanthropy had become a real thing, and it was easy for us to get in.
Once I was on the other side of the wall, it was easy to disappear into the trees. The feel of the forest was in my fur, brushing my skin as I ran, and the word ‘freedom’ came to mind. I might not have been free being a werewolf, but as a wolf I was free.
I ran on, weaving through the trees, following a pull that led me like a magnet. It pulled me north-west, and I kept going. My internal compass drew me, and I kept running, letting wild instincts take over. When I finally stopped in a small clearing between the trees, I wasn’t the first. John’s wolf sat on the pine needles like a dog. John’s wolf was white with gray flecks and yellow eyes that got brighter when he was angry. It was a sharp contrast to my golden fur and green eyes. People who saw our wolves together always commented.
I walked over, wagging my tail, and sniffed John’s nose. He dipped his head, acknowledging my authority. I sat down too, and then eased forward so I was lying by his feet. Two minutes later, and the rest of the pack came too. Charlie’s wolf pitch black in the night, with eyes like marbles. A human wouldn’t have been able to pick him out in the night. Harry was a red wolf, like an over-sized fox. Carlos and Abdul followed too, One chocolate brown and one the color of ice.
We huddled together. None of us were cold, but we felt the absence of the pack members and it left a chill in the air. Together we were whole again. Warm. We all had families somewhere, lying alone in bed, trying to be happy about our return, trying to be patient with our inability to cope with being back home. And the six of us had left home less than twelve hours after arriving to be together again.
We lay in the dark, a pile of wolves, drawing from each other’s warmth so we could make it through the cold days that would follow until our deployment.
Just before dawn I got up and shook myself out. I gave two small yips and the rest of my small pack stretched, yawned, and got up, shaking themselves too. It was going to be dawn soon. The bright light of day was already bleeding into the black of night, leaving a confused silver behind. We had to hunt. I took the lead and headed into the woods. The others fell into formation behind me. We’d hunted like this – animals and people – so many times it was second nature.
I lifted my head and smelled the wind. There was fresh meat nearby. The other smelled it too and I could feel our collective energy rise. It was like static in the air, and thick like a hand that stroked each of us individually. I held very still, and soon the brown hide of a deer was visible between the trees. It hadn’t heard us, it was nibbling on someth
ing. For two seconds the compassion of my human surfaced and hesitated, but then the bloodlust took over, and I jumped into the clearing.
The deer started running, startled. It would have been easier to stalk it and kill it right away, but wolves loved the chase. The moment something ran, it was on. I felt the fire in my veins, my heart thundering inside me and the rage of my pack as their own anxiety and anger climbed. Werewolves are fueled by rage. We’re almost always angry.
Give a werewolf a gun and you’re set up for aggressive negotiations.
Carlos and Charlie split off from the pack into the trees. Harry fell back. The rest of us kept going, chasing the dear in a curve. Suddenly Carlos and Charlie were in front of it, and we were behind. It backed up, skidding on the pine needles. Out of nowhere Harry attacked, launching and sinking fangs into the deer’s neck. Harry jerked his head and I heard the neck snap.
The smell of blood filled the air, sharp and metallic, and the hunger in me flared up. The other wolves stayed away, Harry stepped back, and they let their alpha feed first.
After I’d climbed into the meat, the others joined in. The sound of flesh ripping and blood squelching was revolting and natural all at the same time. I felt the slick warm liquid on my face. The other wolves looked monstrous with their muscled bodies and blood smeared across their muzzles.
Finally the feeding was over, and the thin rays of the sun reached over the horizon. I turned and led the way home.
Chapter 3
Allegra
I woke up at dawn, and he wasn’t in the bed with me. The sheets were cold on his side of the bed, neatly made. He’d never been there. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, trying to ignore the gaping feeling of emptiness inside me.
This was going to be harder than I’d thought. I knew that it was going to be hard when he came back. It always was. Being a military wife wasn’t easy. But it was my job to respect and support him in what he did, and I did everything I could to do that. To understand that he might be haunted by what he’d experienced, that being home might be hard to adjust to.
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