Catherine laughed. A surprising grin flashed on Dontae’s face, and there they were smiling at each other like when they’d first met. But it was gone as soon as it had appeared. The anger returned in his eyes and he rose up, lifting her with him. He was locked on her now, staring, telling her silently how much she’d hurt him. The pleasure and pain was too much for her. Her climax came unexpectedly and hard. It ripped her right down the center. She screamed out and he sped up, taking advantage of her rapid pulses to bring him to the brink and over. He groaned and his head fell back, his thick neck exposed as he jerked out his intense pleasure.
Dontae collapsed on top of her trembling body, panting as Catherine held him close. She kissed his neck, lacing her fingers into his damp hair. But without a word he got up and pulled out, leaping off the bed like she was contagious. He strode swiftly to the bathroom, slammed the door and then had the audacity on top of everything, to fucking lock it. On shaking elbows, she rose up and stared at the door. The shower came on, muffled through the walls. She blinked at the sound, unable to believe what she was hearing.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, stunned and terribly hurt. Getting up, she slowly paced the room. Her shirt was broken, as were her bra and panties. Only her jeans were intact so she put them on, went to his suitcase and pulled out one of his t-shirts, a black one she would no doubt swim in. Slipping it over her bedhead, she grabbed a pair of his dress socks and put them on, too. As she tugged on her sneakers, the shower turned off. She froze then ran for the door, swooping down to grab her dropped coat and keys. Where did I leave my purse? In the car??
Barreling out into the rain, she heard him behind her calling, “Catherine! Come back!” She sprinted as fast as she could for her parent’s car. He caught up to her and lifted her off the flooded asphalt, his bare feet splashing.
“Put me down!! Dontae, put me down!”
“Catherine, cut it out.”
“I can’t take it! I know I hurt you, but I can’t take it anymore!”
A family rushed to their S.U.V. Dontae glanced over and suddenly aware of how this could look, set her down. “We’re just having a fight. Don’t worry!” he called to the curious frowns.
Catherine didn’t give a flying fuck who was watching. The neon lights of the Motel’s sign splashed red onto his right side and highlighted every naked part of him. The wife was staring as the husband ordered her, “Get in the car, Joyce! Kids, don’t look! Marci, I mean it. Look away!”
Catherine ignored them. “How dare you leave me there lying on the bed wondering if you’re coming back, or if you’re going to keep punishing me in any way you can conceive of!”
“I was just showering to clean myself off. I wasn’t leaving you!”
“Bullshit!” she yelled, futilely blinking away the rain. “You’ve been abusing me every chance you get! When are you going to forgive me, Dontae? I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I did what I did.”
In pain, he stared at her. “You’ve never apologized.”
“Well,” she gasped, throwing up her arms. “I’m apologizing now! I’m so sorry. I should never have done that to you. When are we going to talk about it? When are you going to forgive me?”
Sopping wet, rain all over and around them, they stared at each other as lightning lit up the sky. Thunder crashed into their hearts. Finally, he quietly said, “I can’t. I just can’t. Now come back inside.” He held out an arm inviting her to walk with him, his body shining. But he wasn’t hers, and would never be again, so she cast her eyes downward. She gave a defeated nod and returned with him.
If there were more witnesses to her broken heart, she didn’t notice.
Chapter Ten
Clouded by a numbness he couldn’t shake and with her apology echoing in his mind, Dontae pulled out a fresh shirt from his things and handed it to Catherine. “I’d give you pants, but…”
“This is fine.” She caught the fresh socks he tossed her way. “Thanks.”
With their history an enormous barrier between them, they silently got dressed. She sat down on the only chair in the room to towel dry her hair, her distracted gaze locked on the dingy shag carpet, mind miles away.
He hadn’t meant to fuck her. He hadn’t meant to invite her to the room at all. But he had.
When she’d hit him on the back of the head, it hadn’t hurt of course, but it had impressed him. She stood up for herself. The way he saw it, she was the devil—a devil he couldn’t resist. His wolf even now crashed about inside him desiring release once more from its domesticated cage.
But now that the flesh and blood woman was in front of him, not the version he’d been carrying in his grudge-filled mind for years, he was having a terrible time remaining unaffected by her vulnerability. Since that last night on the beach, the last time he’d seen her, he’d always pictured her a monster—and one who had no feelings for him, but now he couldn’t deny she clearly had them. She looked stricken with pain and a desire to self-protect, but she cared about him and was just as tortured as he was. It wasn’t an act. He knew human beings better than that. He’d seen enough evildoers to know she wasn’t one of them. Then why? Why had she done what she’d done?
He grabbed a belt and looped it through his slacks, eyeing her. “What do you expect me to do, Catherine? Forget what you did, that you can’t be faithful?”
She blinked from the floor to him, shaking her head slowly. “You don’t know me.”
He snorted, “I know what I need to know. And besides that one very debilitating trait, I also know you pretty damn well. We did live together. I paid attention.”
She held his stare.
But then something in the distance caught his attention, and he cocked his ears to the sound. He walked to the wall by the bed’s headboard and listened.
Behind him, Catherine asked, “What is it, Dontae?”
He raised a hand for silence and closed his eyes to concentrate. His wolf took over and everything became audibly louder. There was someone watching Reality T.V. in the next room by themselves. In the next, someone was eating pizza, complaining they’d burned their mouth, their friend laughing. And in the room after that a woman begged for someone to stop.
“Stay here,” Dontae commanded Catherine as he rushed to the door. “Don’t follow me.”
The rain hadn’t let up. It hit his side as he strode quickly to the third door down, eyeing the ceiling for cameras. There were none. Was that on purpose, or a product of another age?
He listened at the door to make sure what he heard wasn’t some kinky, consensual sex play. It wasn’t. He stepped back, looked left and right for anyone watching. No one was around. He closed his eyes and listened for heartbeats in nearby cars. The lot was empty of human beings. He focused on the door and took a single step back. Cracking his neck, his eyes began to glow and with all his supernatural strength he shot out a powerful kick. The door split in two, splintering at the hinges.
A disgusting sight waited for him inside. The dead-eyed employee of the motel had a woman of at least sixty against the wall. At the explosion, they both looked toward the door. Her eyes were wide with terror and shock, his narrowed in irritation at the interruption. Her suitcase lay on its side on the ground like she’d tried to throw it at him, the contents splayed on shag carpet. The attacker had a bite mark in his arm, but now was pinning hers. Her polyester pants were down around only one ankle and as she crossed and re-crossed her legs to evade him he wrestled with her white cotton panties. His belt was undone, pants still up.
Dontae raced with enhanced speed and knocked the rapist against the opposite wall. He fell with a horrible thud and a grunt, swearing at the wolf. The woman began to sob, modestly covering her panties with her both hands. With evil emanating from beady, angry eyes, the rapist started to get up. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Your undoing.” Dontae kicked him in the face so hard the man’s head swung back in an ugly way and he fell in a heap, consciousness lost. Pausing, Dontae listened for a he
artbeat. It was still there. “Pity,” he muttered. But he and his pack tried not to kill whenever possible. It only fed the wolf to do so and besides that, they needed less attention drawn to them. It didn’t always work out that way, as Nathaniel knew well.
Dontae turned to the crying woman.
“It’s okay now. I’m a friend. He won’t hurt you anymore.”
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” she kept repeating, tears streaming.
With great caution, his hands up for her to see, he walked to the bed and pulled the top blanket off, holding it up so she could fix herself in private. He looked away. She sniffled and very quietly thanked him.
“Did you use that suitcase as a weapon?” he asked, looking at it.
“I tried to,” she choked, sliding up her pants and buttoning them with trembling fingers. “Okay, I’m dressed.”
He lowered the blanket. She looked like anybody’s mother or perhaps a grandmother of toddlers. Only tragic with the streaked mascara.
“That was a brave thing to do. Smart, also.”
“It didn’t do a lot of good,” she mumbled.
“And you got a pretty good chunk out of him, too.” Dontae jerked his chin toward the unconscious male’s bite mark. “You want to hit him? Kick him? I promise I won’t tell.”
She stared from Dontae to her would-be rapist, and a small smile tugged at her tear-stained cheeks. “No…thank you.”
“Okay, then it’s time to call the police, but can you do me a favor?”
She was still staring at her assailant. “Maybe I’ll hit him just once.”
Dontae held out an inviting arm. She walked over, hands clasping and unclasping. He watched her stare down at the man who had been about to haunt the rest of her future with a memory no woman should ever have to endure. She stepped back, primed her leg and kicked the man in the balls with everything she had. His body tilted over more and Dontae listened for the heartbeat. Still there, but it had jumped when the blow landed. Dontae smirked and nodded to her with approval as she looked toward him, eyebrows drawn together.
“What’s your name?”
“Linda Baker.”
“Linda, I’m sorry this happened to you today. And I’m sorry I took as long as I did to get here. But will you forgive that and do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Call the police after I’m gone. You can tell them I saved you but when they ask for a description, please be vague. Change my eye color. Switch anything you want to, the more the better. Will you do that for me?”
The question in her eyes was squelched immediately by a desire to show her gratitude. “Yes. I’m guessing you won’t tell me your name then.”
“Better not,” he smiled and bowed to her. Appropriate distance from men for the time being was what she needed. Experience had shown him that, so he would not even try to shake her hand goodbye. He and his packmates helped victims as a hobby, making their abusers pay in myriad ways. They did this to make use of their enhanced abilities, serve the city they love and make their wolves feel useful, now that they were no longer running wild in the forests of their youths.
Before Dontae left the room, he glanced to the fallen man, then back to Linda. “He won’t be awake for awhile, but I’d call the police from somewhere else just in case. He works here. They’ll be able to track him down easily if he wakes up before that. You make sure you’re safe.”
She went for her suitcase. “Thank you! Yes, I’ll call from my car. Thank you so much.”
With the rain at his right, Dontae headed back to his room wondering how he’d explain his disappearing act to his ex. This is the problem with spending time with human females. They ask questions I can’t answer. He opened the door and looked around. “Catherine?” One brief moment of listening and he knew she wasn’t there. He didn’t have to check the bathroom, even with the door closed as it was. Her heartbeat was gone. The sound of her breath as it entered her lungs, gone. The scent of her was now a mere memory on the dusty room air.
He walked in circles, head in his hands, stunned.
She left. He’d told her he couldn’t forgive her, so…
…she left.
He threw back his head and roared, the tortured sound ricocheting. Panting, he grabbed a wall to brace himself. His wolf was furious and wanted him to shift. He was at war.
But then he heard someone behind him in the doorway and he spun around to see Linda standing there with her suitcase in one hand, her light blue coat in the other, keys jingling as she nervously fiddled.
She asked, quietly “Are you okay?” the rain pattering loudly behind her.
With all the self-discipline he could barely muster, he struggled against his wolf and cracked his neck as he gave a very curt nod and grated through gritted teeth, “My…friend…seems to have left.”
“You need a ride somewhere?”
Dontae blinked to the ground and then back to her. He grimaced and commanded his wolf to calm the fuck down. Gasping for air, he said, “Excuse me a moment. Please, don’t leave.” He walked to the bathroom and shut the door, splashing water on his face. The cold baptism he coupled with direct and soothing, silent mantras. I’ve got this. I can do this. Control. Control yourself. Let her go. She had to leave. Let her go. You are stronger than this.
Afraid he’d lose his ride out of here, he quickly dried his face with a white, inexpensive hand towel, tossed it, and rushed back out. “Yes. I’d appreciate that, Linda. Thank you.” He reached for his suitcase, hands shaking as he stuffed all the odds and ends back in. “Can you take me to the next city up? It doesn’t matter where. Just as long as it’s bigger than this and isn’t here.”
“Sure.”
He zipped the blasted thing up and grabbed the handle, heading for the door. She started to move out of the way, but he swooped down and took her heavy suitcase. “Let me get that for you.”
She led the way to a 2009 White Toyota Tercel, hitting the unlock button on her key-bob so that all the doors opened at once. Dontae futilely scanned for Catherine’s Mercedes, then put the suitcases in back. It was a good thing the storm hadn’t let up. There was no one outside. No witnesses to tell the story of his rescue and escape with the victim.
As he climbed in, he said, “Call the police now. I’ll stay quiet.”
She nodded, pulled out her phone and put it on her lap to turn on the ignition. The car came to life, a Lionel Ritchie song on the radio. As they pulled out of the parking lot, he listened to her tell emergency dispatch she’d just been attacked. She reenacted the story and explained she was leaving because she was terrified. As she deftly steered the car with her knee, Linda reached into her purse and tossed him a Snickers, never missing a beat in her story.
Life would never cease to amaze him.
Chapter Eleven
At the next city, Dontae climbed out at BOB’S GARAGE, an old mechanic’s shop dimly lit from the inside. It was late, so the ancient place was of course, closed. Linda objected to leaving him there, but the truth was that for the entire ten miles, after she’d finished with the police, she hadn’t stopped talking. She was nice, but he wasn’t in the mood. Plus Catherine had disappeared and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was driving him fucking crazy.
“I’ll be right back. Maybe they have a car I can…anyway, I’ll be right back.”
Linda reached under her seat. “Oh, I’ve got an umbrella!” He stared at the pink and yellow thing a moment, then stifled a long exhale. “Take it. It’s too wet out there.”
He wanted to argue very badly. But she was helping him, so he thought it best not be ruder than he naturally was. “Fine.”
Shielded by the feminine contraption, Dontae sloshed up the driveway and looked into the window. A large-bellied, balding man in his mid-forties lay on his back under a propped up BMW, a wrench in one grease-covered hand and a flashlight in the other. The single bulb above the car afforded little extra help. Dontae rapped on the dirty window. The mechanic craned his neck to see if
the sound was a figment of his imagination. His shaggy brow furrowed and he wiped it with the back of his hand. An oil streak joined the existing many.
“Who’s there?” he hollered.
“Sir, my car broke down on 95.” Dontae waited for the expected New Yorker reply—Fuck off, we’re closed—but instead the man laid down both tool and light and scooted out more gracefully than his size would indicate he could. Years of practice improves performance in all things.
The paint-chipped door opened. The man had a rag in his hands now, wiping away. Only the rag didn’t have a clean spot on it, so the effort was pretty useless. He eyeballed Dontae’s umbrella, making the werewolf smile.
“It’s hers,” Dontae explained, pointing to Linda in her Toyota. “She was kind enough to drive me here.”
“Where’d you break down? Busted tire?”
“Oh?” Dontae asked with raised eyebrows. “Is that common?”
The man jogged his head, double chin bouncing. “Yep. Happens at least four, five times every two weeks.”
“Well, I ‘busted,’ as you say, two of them. And I ran over a long metal piece I believe is called a fender. My engine made a noise no car should make.”
The man gave a long, low whistle and stared at the possibilities. “That’s not good.”
“I gathered. Do you have a car I can buy until mine is fixed.”
Eyebrows nearly flew right off the man’s dirty forehead. “Buy a car? Not rent?” Now would have been the time for dollar signs to shine in those brown eyes but they didn’t. He looked only surprised, not greedy. “I’ve got two you could choose from. People sometimes can’t pay for the job and so they sell me the car for a lower rate after I’ve done the work. Gives me a chance to get money back with a profit.”
Werewolves of New York: Dontae Page 5