My Furry Valentine

by Karen Ranney

  I stood there, all four feet feeling as if they’d been trapped in concrete. I knew that smile, had seen it numerous times as a teenager. I had to be mistaken. Craig Palmer had been banished to Saskatchewan. Coming back to San Antonio would be a death sentence. He could be guaranteed to be punished physically for his return. Banishment had removed his membership in the Celtic Clan. He would be considered no more than a stranger who was trespassing in our territory. And we didn’t like strangers.

  He glanced at me again and held up one paw. I'd seen him do that before, too. It was his way of saying don't worry, Torrance, this fight won't last more than a minute or two.

  It was a rite of passage that adolescent male wolves occasionally fought each other. Sometimes, they attracted an audience like Craig always did. I sometimes think he deliberately started a fight just to show off.

  Back then, I had been easily impressed by feats of strength. Gradually, however, the easy cruelty of which Craig had been capable had horrified me. That was one of the reasons why I hadn't regretted leaving San Antonio to finish school.

  I don't know what I looked like standing on the edge of the fight, staring at the two males grappling and tearing at each other with my mouth open. Probably stupid with a chaser of dumb.

  Why hadn’t I seen that it was Craig from the beginning? Maybe it's because I’d been on my own in Kerrville and he’d caught me unawares. Besides, he wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in Saskatchewan.

  At least that answered the question about how he’d known I was here. I’d come to Lady Bird Johnson Park often growing up.

  Why hadn’t I seen Craig as a monster? He’d already proven his character when he aimed his Humvee at me and tried to run me off the road.

  Craig knew exactly what I could do. I’d demonstrated it to him in Kerrville. Had he already gotten wordy with a few people? Had he confided in Austin again?

  I didn’t understand what was happening in my life. Things were weird. Maybe even beyond bizarre. And this? This fight was just about the strangest thing that had happened lately.

  Why was Craig acting all possessive when he’d tried to kill me?

  Why was Mark clawing and chewing, growling and spitting at a strange wolf when he hadn’t been around in weeks?

  What the hell was going on?

  I decided to walk away.

  They wanted to fight, great. Let them fight. I wasn’t going to try to get in between them. I wasn’t going to growl or howl. I wasn’t, especially, going to be a spectator.

  Sandy and my mother could stand there gaping. Me? I was going to go home.

  Once I’d changed back to my two legged persona, gotten dressed, and found my phone, I left a message on my father's voicemail.

  "Craig Palmer is back in San Antonio," I said. "I thought you should know.” The rest was a calculation, but the truth was better than any lie. "He and Mark are fighting at the moment," I added. "Something about Craig set Mark off and vice versa. But I, for one, am tempted to give Mark a break. I hope you are, too.”

  Both of them were on the periphery, neither clan members nor complete strangers. Since Mark was an alpha of his own clan, I hoped my father would give him the benefit of the doubt and let him stay. Anyone else, frankly, would be politely — or not — requested to leave our territory.

  I didn't wait for Sandy or my mother, but made my way back to the parking lot and my car. I would explain in the morning and soothe any hurt feelings that my abrupt departure might cause. I suspected, however, that both of them knew why I was leaving.

  A lot of things change physiologically when we transform, of course, but some things remain true regardless of what form we’re in. If we’re wounded in our wolf state, that wound appears when we’re human.

  For example, I once hurt my paw stepping on a piece of glass at the beach. My hand was cut when I became my human self again. Healing takes place as it does naturally. It's neither accelerated nor decelerated by the transformation process. In other words, we don't heal when we transform.

  We are paranormal, but we aren’t magical.

  Except for Mark and me. We were definitely something else. If Craig hurt him, I hoped he healed fast. I stopped in my tracks and pushed down the feeling of betrayal, jealousy, and just plain pain I was feeling.

  Danielle would have to nurse him back to health, damn it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  He had just bamboozled me

  On the way home I turned off my phone before anybody could call me. I didn’t want to talk to Mark. I didn't want to talk to my mother or my sister, and I’d already done all the talking I wanted to with my father.

  Maybe I shouldn't talk to anyone until they started giving me answers. Mark, for one. Why had he gone after Craig without even sniffing around? Where had he been for days and days and days, a great many of those days without communication? Was I just supposed to sit at home and be a quiet little Furry when he decided to go incommunicado? Or live with Danielle, the red headed Furry? And why wasn’t he running with her if they were so close?

  I had too many questions and not enough answers and that just didn’t fly.

  My ears hurt, both the outsides of them and the fact that I couldn't concentrate enough to say the spell. As I drove through the back entrance to Graystone I could hear the click of the crickets, the tree frogs, and the rustle of the leaves in the wind. I could even hear Cherry Pip whine from here. I felt like I was encased in a tunnel of sound, that even speech would be too loud.

  I had to get a grip on this, so I stopped the car halfway to the back porch and recited the spell until the noise moved away, receding like the tide.

  Once I was inside, having reassured the Brood that I hadn’t left them for forever and, yes, I was home and the world was back on its axis, I went into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of chablis and poured myself a glass of wine.

  I am not a weepy kind of person. I have never dissolved into tears just because I was emotional. Lately, however, I was just too close to hauling out a tissue every few minutes and that irritated me. I wasn't unstable. I’d never felt like this before. I didn't know if it was becoming twice Pranic or everything else that had happened to me lately. All I knew was that I wanted it to stop.

  The Brood and I moved into the porch and I made room for Pepper on my lap and Dalton and Cherry Pip each guarding a leg while I drank my wine.

  I wanted to go back to the person I had been only a month ago. Or even longer, four months ago. I’d known that getting a transfusion would alter me, but I hadn't realized that I would feel emotionally battered. Or maybe it wasn’t the transfusion at all. Maybe it was because I’d allowed myself to fall in love.

  At the moment, I wanted to pummel my beloved. Don't let anybody tell you that love is a soft and fluttery emotion. Love is an Amazon, attired in leather with gold studs. Love can tear your arms off and use them to beat you to death.

  That’s exactly what I felt like doing the minute Mark stepped onto the porch.

  The Brood, of course, gave him a hero's welcome. I wanted to send them into time out, but of course I didn’t. Instead, I gave all four of them the gimlet eye, shook my head, and walked into the kitchen.

  I needed my wits about me, so I opted for decaf, stuck a coffee pod in the Keurig and stared at it as my cup filled. I've often found that staring at appliances make them work better.

  I glanced at Mark as he entered the kitchen. His face was scratched up. So was one arm. He looked like he’d fallen into a briar patch. Try explaining that to his coworkers in the morning. Doctor fights wolf. Yeah, that would go down well.

  He started to talk but I held up one hand, palm toward him as if I could hold the words or even the sound of them at bay. Maybe Marcie could give me a spell for that, too. How to shut people up when you really didn’t want to hear them.

  “Don’t even start," I said. "There is nothing you could say that would make any sense to me. What were you thinking? You just had some testosterone you needed to expend? You
wanted to kick sand in somebody's face? You wanted to look like the big, tough Were?”

  He started to say something again and once more I put up my hand.

  “No," I said. "Those were all rhetorical questions. I don't really want answers. Not your answers, anyway." I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. "Where the hell have you been? Why haven't you been answering my voicemails? For that matter, why is your phone always going to voicemail?”

  "I lost my phone," he said, interjecting that comment before I could silence him.

  "Oh." As repartee, it lacked something.

  I frowned at the Keurig again.

  "Well, you could have called me,” I finally said. “Told me not to worry."

  I was treading dangerously close to forbidden territory. Technically, it was none of my business what he was doing. We were neither committed to each other nor were we exclusive. We hadn’t had that conversation and I didn’t want to have it now.

  Especially the exclusive part.

  I turned to face him again. "Your sister-in-law came to visit me. She gave me the third degree and told me that I’d put you in danger.”

  A curious look came over his face. Anger that was so quickly gone I wondered if I had imagined it followed by something that looked like regret. That's what I wanted to see, at least.

  "I'm sorry, Torrance. Danielle can be a bit difficult sometimes.”

  Difficult? That wasn’t the word I would use.

  “She thought that I talked you into the lottery,” I said. “Did you tell her that?”

  He shook his head.

  "Do you live with her? You and your daughter and her? Is that your happy little family?”

  My voice was taking on a tone that I didn’t seem to be able to control. I could hear the edge to it and regretted that. Not because I was getting angry. The anger was easy to understand. But I wasn't all that eager to let Mark know that I was in pain.

  “It’s not like that, Torrance.”

  I nodded, grabbed my mug of coffee and screwed on the top. “Okay.”

  That was physically all I was able to say at that moment. I was shaking so badly that I grabbed the handle of the mug tight enough to shatter the plastic. I eased up on my grip a little, turned and made my way to the TV room. Let him say what he came to say while I was watching the news. Or maybe a sitcom, the laughter of other people a background to Mark's words.

  "I don't live with her," he said following me and the Brood.

  I grabbed three treats from the jar and doled them out. Each one of the dogs was appreciative and fawning, which is just what I needed at the moment.

  “If you came here for sex I’m not in the mood,” I said.

  Now I didn’t imagine the anger.

  Good. If he was pissed, so was I. If he wanted another fight on his hands, I was more than willing to give it to him.

  "She gave me the impression that you’re housemates. Is that true?”

  “We’ve shared a house in the past, but that’s only because of Cassie.”

  “Cassie?”

  “My daughter.”

  I didn't hide the fact that I was rolling my eyes so far back in my head that I could see my occipital lobe.

  “Torrance.”

  He could say my name in that tone of voice all night, but it wouldn't change my opinion.

  "Okay, you might not have shared a bedroom, but you shared a life. You still share a life, right? She came with you to San Antonio.”

  “Only to care for Cassie.”

  He stood in the doorway as I sat on one end of the couch. Pepper immediately jumped up in my lap and I occupied myself with petting my dogs for a minute or so.

  “That's not what she thinks, Mark. She thinks that you’re hers. Which is why she came here, to announce her ownership of you.”

  He startled me by smiling.

  I hadn't expected him to think the whole damn thing was amusing. If anything, his smile ratcheted my irritation up a few notches.

  "She must know how I feel about you if she came here," he said.

  I was not going to soften at that answer. There were too many things that were wrong for me to be affected by a few sweet words.

  "What was with the caveman routine with Craig?” I asked.

  He sat on the chair opposite the couch, his smile morphing into a frown. “What do you mean, Craig?”

  “The other Were. Why did you go after him? If you didn't know who he was, why did you launch yourself at him?”

  "He was standing too close to you.”

  I hesitated, my coffee mug halfway to my lips and stared at him. He stared right back. Well, I guess I was going to have that talk about commitment after all, even if I didn't want it.

  "I was jealous," he said. "I didn't handle the situation well and I apologize.”

  Honestly? I couldn't think of a thing to say. He had just bamboozled me.

  "But it was Craig?” he asked.

  I nodded, grateful I was at least able to do that.

  "Then I'm glad I went after him,” he said.

  "Who won?”

  He smirked. I swear, he smirked, just like all the other alpha males I’d ever known in my entire life. He smirked and there was a kind of condescending cockiness about it.

  "I did," he said. As in, did you have any doubt?

  "Does he look as bad as you do?”

  "I don't know. I didn't see him later.”

  "I told my father," I said. "You're probably going to be dragged in front of the Council.”

  His shrug indicated that he didn’t seem overly concerned.

  Where have you been? Why did you stay away?

  I kept silent. For a few minutes we sat in apparent harmony. I sipped my coffee while he sat in the chair, his hands on the arms, watching me. It was almost as if he were studying me, diagnosing me with his physician eyes. What did he see?

  Someone too vulnerable and trying to hide it.

  I was new at this love business. Part of me accepted the fact that love was an emotion that insisted on openness and wholehearted participation. At the same time, I didn't want to be stupid about the whole thing. I wasn’t going to be the only vulnerable person in this relationship.

  Although, to be honest, Mark had admitted to his jealousy. The least he deserved was my admission of the same.

  “She’s gorgeous,” I said. "Your sister-in-law. I could see why you would be attracted to her."

  Hell, I could see why he would be head over heels in love with her from strictly a physical standpoint. As far as her character went, however, it sucked. Mark had never struck me as the kind of male who only cared about a female’s attributes. After all, you have to stand up sometime. You have to engage in conversation sooner or later.

  “Did your wife look like her?” In other words, was your wife as gorgeous?

  “Yes.”

  Oh, goody.

  “Why is Craig here?" Mark asked.

  I grabbed onto the change of subject like it was a lifeline.

  "I don't know," and proceeded to tell him about the incident in Kerrville. "I don't know why I didn't recognize him then," I added.

  “Maybe you didn't because you didn't want to," he said.

  “There’s a lot of that going around.”

  I put Pepper down on the floor, stood and walked back into the kitchen, not because I wanted more coffee as much as I needed to move. I didn’t want to sit there being pinned by his gaze. His honesty was pulling forth my own and it wasn't the time or the place.

  He followed me, not saying a word, merely standing beside me as I opened the refrigerator door, gazing inside as if the contents were a complete mystery to me.

  "I didn’t call you," he said. “Because I didn't want anybody to be able to trace the calls.”

  I closed the refrigerator door too hard, and turned to him, folded my arms and said, “What the hell are you involved in? Is it really taking blood samples from vampires? What are you doing that is so damn dangerous?”

  He r
eached out and grabbed my upper arms and pulled me to him. I didn't want to go but he was so much stronger than I was. Yeah, I was good at lying to myself.

  "Would you trust me if I told you I can't tell you right now? It's nothing illegal and it's nothing that will bring danger to the Celtic Clan or your family. It’s just something I have to do.”

  I wanted to demand that he tell me everything, but I had my own secrets. Maybe in an effort to dispel some of them, I pulled back a little and said, "I was fired.”

  “What?”

  A strange time to feel amusement, but that’s exactly what raced through me.

  "I know. I felt the same way. I was fired." I told him the whole truth, the problem with Alice from the beginning, the fact that Marianne never gave me my messages from him, the constant backbiting and backstabbing.

  Then I told him about my idea of setting up my own veterinary clinic. It was such a new idea, still embryonic, that I didn’t feel like sharing it with anyone else. The fact that I wanted to tell Mark was another revelation of sorts. It meant that I trusted him and my trust was probably more important than any other emotion, maybe even equal to love.

  "That's a great idea," he said. "What can I do to help?”

  Don't disappear from my life. Don't confuse me. Don't cause this Richter scale of emotions.

  "Nothing right now," I said. “Maybe direct customers to me when the clinic’s open.”

  He smiled. “Got it.”

  "Are you hungry?"

  “I could eat.”

  In other words, he was probably starving.

  I made us both tuna fish sandwiches. Mine had pickles. His had onions. The Brood was underfoot, hoping for crumbs. For a few minutes, we occupied ourselves with food. I gave him a beer while I drank coffee. We didn't talk of jealousy or disappearances or anything else important.

  Little did I know that this was the calm before the storm in a manner of speaking. I was about to be tossed onto a tumultuous sea.

  Chapter Twenty

  Oh, goody, another danger