Greywolf

by Mary A. DeCarlo

  With a small groan, he gently pulled her between his thighs. Her hands in his, his arms wrapped around her pulling her closer, resting his head against her chest. He could hear her heart begin to beat faster.

  Altheia felt the blood turn to fire in her veins and her heart begin to race. She felt a shudder rip through him. Releasing her hands, he tightened his arms. Holding her closer still, his breath was warm against her breasts. Lord, how she wanted him. Her fingers were suddenly buried in his hair. Pulling his head back, she leaned down and kissed him, lightly at first. But when her tongue slipped out to lick at his lips, he groaned.

  His hand slid behind her head to prevent her from moving away. His mouth demanded, his tongue plundered, his teeth nipped at her lips. With a sigh she surrendered to his advances.

  Michael couldn't breathe, couldn't think, only feel and smell and taste. Her breasts were pressed to his chest, her scent hung over him like a sweet smelling cloud and the taste of her on his tongue made his desire flair out of control.

  He continued to use one hand to keep her captured against his mouth, but his other hand began pulling her blouse from the waistband of her skirt. Swiftly he undid the buttons. Fumbling, he managed to undo the hooks on her bra. Suddenly he had them free and slipped the straps off her arms, dropping the bra to the floor. Releasing her lips, he leaned back to stare, his eyes hooded, glazed with lust. She is so beautiful, he thought as his hands reached up to palm her breasts. His fingers stroked across her nipples making them harden even more. Growling, he let his head drop forward and licked at one honey-sweet nipple with his tongue. He nibbled with his teeth, drew it into his mouth and suckled like a babe. She whimpered beneath his ministrations.

  Without thought, he ran a hand down her side till he reached the bottom of her skirt, then started back up between her silky thighs. He could feel her shiver against his fingers. His fingers reached the juncture of her legs. Slipping his hand around her body, he began to caress her soft bottom. Suddenly he grabbed her panties and yanked them down her legs, letting them fall to her feet. She moaned deep in her throat, the sound fueling his rising passion.

  His hand roamed her bottom, glorying in the feel of her flesh. He ran his hand down the back of her legs, her muscles quivering beneath his fingers. Again he slipped his hand between her knees and ran it up between her thighs. Only this time, there was no barrier to his questing fingers. Lightly he brushed them through the soft curls between her legs. With a whimper she shifted her feet further apart to give him greater access.

  Lightly, he began to stroke her. She was so hot, he thought she would set his fingers ablaze. In her own passion she was wet, ready for him, tempering the heat. He stroked her, teasing her, exciting her more. His mouth sought her other breast, laving it with his tongue. Her hands slipped to his shoulders, using him to keep her on her feet. Whimpering freely now, she rocked against his fingers. “Yes,” he whispered against her breast, “let it go.” Then suckling for a moment more, he unexpectedly grabbed her nipple between his teeth, brushing it roughly with his tongue. Without warning, he slipped a finger deep within her blazing sheath.

  Altheia screamed his name, her nails raking his back as she climaxed. Releasing her breast, he looked up into her face, her pleasure exciting him. He could feel the tremors rocking her body, feel her sheath grasp and ripple around his finger. His own hardness throbbed in response.

  She swayed, her legs threatening to fail her. Michael quickly grabbed her around her waist and, shifting her, set her on his knee, pulling her against his chest. His hands lightly stroked her back. Her soft bottom pressed enticingly against him and his organ throbbed demandingly. “Beautiful,” he whispered against her hair. “You look so beautiful."

  She sighed. She had never reached such heights, had never even realized they were there. My God, she thought, would she be able to survive when he finally made love to her? She had not thought she would be able to love again, certainly not like this. She now knew she had never been in love like this before. It was as if destiny had drawn them together in this time and place.

  She rubbed her check against his, shifted till she found his mouth, and kissed him tenderly. She could feel him against her thigh, still hard, not yet satisfied. She wanted him, all of him this time. She wanted him hard and deep inside of her. “Make love to me, Michael,” she pleaded against his lips. “I want you.” His arms tightened around her. Then his hand was again searching, seeking. “Oh, Michael,” she moaned as his lips traced a fiery path down her neck. “I love you."

  Michael wanted her, needed her, would take her now. His lips were at her throat and his tongue could taste the muskiness on her skin. His fingers tingled, anxious to feel her heat again. Her whispered entreaties fired the lust in his veins. Then he heard her. ‘I love you.’ He froze, her words snuffing out the lust in his heart. “No!” he cried out, the word torn from his soul. “You can't.” Gently but firmly, he pushed her away and stood.

  Altheia couldn't believe what was happening. He was doing it again! “Michael!” she pleaded. She couldn't help but beg.

  "Don't,” he growled. “You don't know what you're saying. I can't love you. I'd only hurt you.” He felt as though someone was ripping his heart out of his chest. Because God help him, he now knew he did love her, always would. Giving her up would be harder to bear than the death of his father. He knew he'd never be happy without her. “Stay here tonight. I'll make sure nothing harms you,” he said as he turned away and walked out the door. “Not even me,” he whispered to himself.

  "Michael,” she cried after him. “Come back. We have to talk.” She ran to the door just in time to see him stride into the forest and disappear into the dark. This time she refused to cry. She would not beg again. She had gotten along fine without him before. She would do so again. She was going home.

  Michael slipped though the trees till he knew he was out of sight of the cabin. Throwing off his clothes, he fell to his knees, letting the transformation wash over him.

  Wolf stood there in the dark. His soul wanted to return to the female. A long sad howl sang from his throat. Another howl answered his from higher up the mountain. Wolf took one last look back toward the cabin, turned and slipped silently deeper into the forest, trying to escape the female who was tearing him apart.

  TWELVE

  She was heartbroken. He'd wanted her. He'd said that he did. His body said he did. But his mind kept resisting her. There was definitely something wrong, but she no longer had the desire to find out what. He couldn't, or wouldn't, explain and she no longer had the strength to pursue it.

  The phone was ringing as she let herself into the bungalow. Her heart leaped in her breast. Maybe it was Michael. She raced to pick it up before it stopped ringing. “Hello,” she said breathlessly, praying it was Michael.

  "Hi Baby. I'm sure glad you're home. I missed you."

  Dear God, it was the stalker. Altheia felt the panic surround her.

  "Did you miss me? Just say the word, Baby, and I could be right there, and you and me could get real friendly,” he chuckled.

  Belatedly she remembered to turn on the answering machine and pressed the button to record the call.

  "What do you want?” she managed to get out.

  "You, Baby, and that luscious little body of yours. I can't wait to get my hands on those bouncy little tits of yours. I'll just bet they're real nice and soft. Probably taste good too,” he laughed again. “Just thinking about them has got me all excited. Why I'm hard as a stone, Baby. You're going to love it when I do ya."

  Altheia couldn't take anymore. Slamming the phone down, she collapsed to the floor in tears.

  What was happening to her life? First her husband, then Michael, and now this pervert was harassing her. She had moved to New Hampshire to start a new life. But right now she wished she was back in New Orleans.

  Jasmine was trying to climb all over her, purring up a storm. Altheia hugged the little cat so tight, she cried out and struggled to get away. Althei
a relaxed her hold, soothing the cat, crying softly a few minutes more. Then, taking Jasmine, she got ready for bed. She'd never felt so alone in her whole life.

  The next morning Michael woke with a pain in his heart. She was gone. She probably hated him now. Twice he'd run out on her after almost mating with her. He knew leaving had been the right thing to do. So how come he felt like such a heel? And how come he felt like he was missing something vital, like a heart?

  He had to talk to someone and the only person he could discuss this with was his mother. But how could he leave Altheia unprotected? He still felt she was in serious trouble. There was only one thing he could do and he had to swallow his pride to do it.

  "Hi, Grandmere?” Michael's grandmother had always said she would help if he really needed anything. She had been extremely upset when his grandfather had disowned him five years ago unless he got married, just as he had done with Michael's father. His grandmother and he still talked secretly every few weeks. But now he would ask for help.

  Three hours later his bank account was credited with $10,000. An hour later he had employed three bodyguards from an agency in Boston, recommended by John Howland. They would be in place by two o'clock, twenty-four hours a day, till he returned. They would stay out of sight unless needed.

  After meeting with the guards, he was ready to go. Joe would take care of the garage and hire a couple of kids from the high school auto class to help part-time. And the bodyguards could feed the rabbits since they were staying at his place. He had already let Koani know she had to stay away since he was going home. She would be safe if she stayed away from humans. He was ready to go.

  All he needed to do was let Altheia know he would be gone, but he didn't think she would talk to him. Nor was she likely to read any note from him as angry as she must be, so he sent her a telegram. People always read telegrams.

  ALTHEIA.

  I HAVE TO GO OUT OF TOWN TO SEE MY MOTHER. BACK IN TWO WEEKS. I'VE MADE SURE YOU'LL BE SAFE.

  MICHAEL

  THIRTEEN

  Michael's mother let him mope around the house for more than a week. All he would say when he arrived was that he had been homesick. While she had missed him dearly and was glad to have him home, she knew something must have upset him pretty badly to send him running home. She was also aware that he had stayed in every night since he'd arrived, and that just wasn't like her son. Except when his father died, he'd never gone more than a few days without changing since he discovered he could do it at will. It was as much a part of him as breathing. Something had to be seriously wrong.

  Well, tonight she wouldn't let him wriggle off the hook. She'd find out, if she had to tie him down. She asked her husband to go down to the center for a few hours so she could talk to Michael alone.

  She knew he'd gone to his room after dinner and he was still in there now, just staring into space. Straightening her shoulders, she knocked on the door and let herself into his room. They looked at each other for a few moments before he turned away as he asked, “What do you want, Mother?"

  "To talk about why you came home,” she said as she locked the door behind her and slipped the key down the front of her dress.

  Michael stared. “What's with the door?"

  "We're not leaving here till you tell me what's really bothering you."

  "There's nothing wrong, Mother. I just missed you and came home to visit,” he stated flatly and then turned again to stare out the window.

  "Sure you did. That's why for the past nine days you've holed up in this room and talked to no one. Not even the Mother you miss so much."

  He glanced back at her with such pain in his eyes that she wanted to cry. This was her son, her miracle child. This was the child that was not supposed to be conceived. It tore her apart to see him so unhappy. “Who is she?” she asked softly.

  He swiftly turned back to her with a gasp. “How...” he started to ask before he cut off the words. There was no way she could know about Altheia. She was just fishing. “I'm just tired, Mother.” He tried to change the subject. “How is married life, Mother? He is treating you well, isn't he? Are you happy?"

  "Obviously more than you,” she replied, “but I won't be distracted. As to ‘how,’ I'm your Mother and I always knew when you were lying, and when you were bothered by anything.

  "The only thing that ever upset you this badly was your father's death,” she said softly, “and that's the only thing that ever kept you from changing."

  He looked at her. He hadn't realized how much time had passed. God, had it really been that long since he arrived? And he hadn't even had the desire to transform since he'd left Altheia. He'd never denied what he was since he'd come to grips with his father's death and the aftermath. He knew he couldn't survive if he did. Eventually it would drive him mad, as it almost had done before.

  Tears welled in his eyes and his chest felt as if it was caught in a vise. He'd never felt so alone in his life. He hung his head, closing his eyes, trying desperately to get control of himself. Then he felt her wind her arms around him lovingly.

  "It's all right, Baby. Let it out, Mama's here. Mama loves you,” she crooned as she pulled him into her arms and rocked him.

  Michael clung to her, crying. He hadn't cried since he was a child and it felt strange, yet somehow refreshing. He wished he were a little boy again, who knew his parents would fight and drive away any demons that threatened him; who would always be there for him and would do anything to make him happy. But he knew it could never be that way again.

  She soothed him, held him and brushed his hair back off his face. Her little boy had grown up, but it pleased her to know he still needed his mother. Perhaps for the last time, she thought. “Tell me about her,” she said. He shuddered in her arms. She felt him relax.

  "She's different,” he began, then paused. He didn't know what to say. “I don't know, Mother. What difference can it make?” Pulling away, he stood up and began pacing the floor, raking his fingers through his hair. “It's hopeless. What kind of future could I offer her? She'd only end up getting hurt like you did, or end up hating me. I'd rather end it now."

  "Do you think I was crazy to love your father?” she asked. “Would I have been better off if I'd let him walk away from me?"

  "That was different. You and father loved each other."

  "Does she love you?"

  "She thinks she does, but she doesn't even know me. She has no idea of what I really am,” he said bitterly. “She couldn't possibly love what I am."

  "Do you think I knew what your father was before I fell in love with him?” she asked incredulously. “Your father tried to fight me as hard as you're apparently fighting this girl.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “You love her,” she stated.

  He jerked his head up and stopped his pacing to stare at her. He didn't respond at first. Emotions flashed across his face—denial, hurt, hope, love, pain and finally acceptance. Dropping his head, he turned away, shoulders slumped. “Yes,” the word tore from him.

  Windflower wanted to go to him but she knew he had to face this himself. This was one battle he had to fight alone. Except for the girl, who had apparently stolen his heart right out from under him. Whoever she was, she hoped she loved her son enough to accept him as he was and fight for him. Wolves were never really happy as loners and it had pained her to see him avoid a relationship all these years.

  She wished Michael's father were still alive. Oh, she truly loved her new husband, but Michael's father had been her soul mate. But he had died young, leaving her with a promise that she would not pine away for him if he did. It was as if somehow he had known their time together would be too short.

  She went to her son, taking him in her arms, giving him comfort.

  "Mother, what am I going to do?” He hugged her sadly, like a little boy lost.

  "Tell her. If she truly loves you, it will not matter,” she advised. “Nothing will keep you apart."

  "But I'm afraid I'll hurt her. You know the bloodlust
is uncontrollable."

  "Once your father tried to deny his bloodlust. He had me chain him up so that he could not go out and hunt. We had to be in New York on business, there was no way to avoid it. So he insisted that I restrain him."

  Michael looked at his Mother with something like hope. “Did it work?"

  "No.” But she had to explain further. “We found a place outside the city where no one would hear him howling to escape. He wanted me to leave him, but after I chained him, I refused to go. What if something went wrong? What if he needed me? I stayed. After the change, he was furious. He howled, he threw himself against his restraints, he fought to escape like the wild animal he was. He tried to reach me. His eyes ... I'll never forget his eyes. They wanted to kill. I knew then that what we had done was wrong. But there was nothing I could do. I couldn't get near enough to release him."

  "I turned away to leave the room as he threw himself at me again. I heard the chains snap and I turned in the open door. He scrambled to his feet and stared at me, teeth bared, snarling. The look in his eyes was inhuman. You could see the bloodlust in them. His only thoughts were to kill.

  "Then he took a step towards me, growling, and I panicked. I screamed. ‘Michael, I love you!’ He stopped in his tracks. For a moment it was as if your father looked back at me. I could see the pain and sorrow in his eyes, then it was gone and the bloodlust returned. He moved, but he only pushed by me and was gone."

  "What happened?” Michael asked.

  "When he returned, he didn't want to talk about it or what had happened after he left. He just said he would never try to deny what he was again.” She sighed and continued. “A few days later I was reading the paper when I came across a report. A hunter had been found dead not far from where we had been that night. They thought he had been torn apart by a pack of wild dogs."