She looked at him and laughed. “You can't be serious. There's no such thing."
"Then how do you explain the gunshot? And where's Wolf? And have you noticed my wound is almost healed?"
Looking at his arm, she shook her head. “You could have been shot some other time. And you could have let Wolf out when you got home last night."
"Maybe” he said. “But think, have you ever seen Wolf and me at the same time?"
"No,” she said hesitantly, “but last night there was no full moon. How do you explain that?"
"That's because I'm not a normal werewolf. I'm also a shape-shifter. I can change at will, day or night. However, I'm compelled to change at the full moon. I'm not able to resist the pull of the full moon."
She stood up and stepped back, “Then prove it. Change for me now."
Michael looked up at her and smiled. “Well, while I can do it during the day, it does take a lot of energy. But it seems I've had an exhausting morning and I doubt if my body could take the strain."
Altheia blushed. How could she be afraid of him? Surely she would have sensed something wrong. He was probably joking. He couldn't possibly be serious. “Okay, then you can do it tonight?” she asked.
"Sure. But now I think some food would be great. I'm starved. And a shower would be heaven. Join me? I'll wash your back."
Michael did wash her back and her front and her sides, her top and her bottom. After wrapping her in a thick soft towel, he set her at the table while he prepared a couple of thick, juicy, rare steaks.
After finishing off his own and Altheia's unfinished steak, he pushed the empty plate away from him. Michael leaned back with a contented sigh. Sitting up straight, he looked at her with a serious expression. “Now I think we had better discuss what happened last night when I was shot."
Altheia felt the blood rush from her face. With everything that had happened since, she had successfully buried any conscious memory of the horrors of last night. Now he was making her remember. For a few minutes, she had really been terrified. She had been sure she was going to be raped and maybe even killed like Jasmine. But then Wolf showed up and saved her. It still seemed like some sort of a fantastic nightmare. But then, she was here at Michael's. And they had made mad, passionate love several times already today. She looked at Michael. He was watching her intently. “I don't know what happened,” she whispered.
Michael wasn't sure what he wanted to know. All he remembered was seeing the broken window and knowing she was in danger. Transforming had been the only logical thing he knew to do at the time.
After that, things got a little confused. He couldn't always remember everything that happened when he was Wolf. Feelings were more prominent than thoughts. It was sort of like communicating with pictures instead of words. While a picture may be worth a thousand words, it's still only one dimensional. He remembered her fear and the danger and attacking the intruder, but the bullet and the pain overshadowed much of the rest. “Tell me what you remember.” That she was still in danger, he was certain, but he needed to know more. “Please."
With a shudder, she looked up at him again. “He was going to rape me,” she said so softly that he had to strain to hear. “He said I could scream and no one would hear me. He wanted me to scream.” A sob caught in her throat.
Michael rose quickly and pulled her into his arms. “Did he hurt you?” He choked. “I'll kill him if he did.” His eyes had turned dark blue with fury. Altheia clung to him. She was so small in his arms. It made him want to protect her all the more.
"No, he didn't have a chance. Wolf was there and he attacked him. I think Wolf hurt him pretty bad before he got shot. Wolf was hurt pretty bad too. I was afraid he'd killed him, but the bullet passed clear through. Did you look at him when you came in last night? Was he all right when you let him out?” She pulled back to look at him.
Dear God, she still didn't believe him. How could he convince her? Would he be able to transform for her? He'd never done it in front of a human except for his father. Even his mother had never seen him. He knew it could be frightening. His father had described it to him once. He had delayed his own change once to watch his father. It had shocked him and he had known what to expect.
"Altheia...” He took her hands in his, but couldn't look at her. “I told you what happened to Wolf. I thought you understood."
There he went again with that crazy story about being a werewolf. Did he really think she was that gullible? “Everybody knows there are no such things as werewolves."
"I know there are. I'm one and my father was one. I even met a couple in New Orleans.” He let go of her hands and turned away. If she couldn't believe him, it was all lost. But damn, he didn't want to lose her. He hadn't wanted to get this involved with anyone, but here he was, and now he didn't want to give up this chance for happiness. Even his father had found his mother.
She stood staring at his back. He was frightening her. She wasn't ready for this. It couldn't be! She thought about what he'd said earlier. Could there possibly be any truth to his story? Well, seeing is believing as they say. “You said earlier that you would show me."
He spun around to stare at her, pain apparent in his eyes. “You don't know what you're asking,” he groaned. “It's not something many humans live to tell about."
"If you're trying to frighten me, you're doing a good job of it.” Her voice shook and she found her eyes slipping away. When he'd been shot. Her eyes jerked up to stare again as she remembered what he'd said. Not when Wolf had been shot ... Him! Dear God, what was he? It felt like someone had just replaced the man she loved with something that was not quite human. She shivered and stopped breathing. As her mind raced around trying to find a logical explanation for his words, her body sagged. Her legs felt incapable of holding her upright and she started to sink to her knees.
Michael saw the color rush from her face as she began to fall and quickly grabbed her. Sweeping her up into his arms, he took her outside and set her on the settee on the porch. She started gulping the cool mountain air as if she had been drowning. Gently holding her in his arms, he rocked her. “It's all right, it's all right. I could never hurt you,” he groaned.
"I didn't want to get this close. I tried to stay away. But I couldn't resist you.” He looked at her angrily for a moment. “Why did you tempt me?” he growled. Flinging himself away, he stood at the edge of the porch, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “God help me,” he whispered, “but I love you.
"God help us both,” he said as he turned back to her. “Because I can't let you go. If I do, I'll die.” He turned away again and stepped down into the yard.
"Michael!” His name tore from her lips as she stood up and started after him. He stopped, turning again to face her. He would do as she asked. He would always do as she asked. Pulling off his shirt, he looked back. She stood on the edge of the porch watching him now. Unzipping his jeans, he peeled them off. He stood before her in the waning afternoon sun.
He was gorgeous, she thought, like some sort of Greek god, the sun shining off his silver hair, his skin gleaming like bronze, his manhood starting to thicken beneath her intense gaze. She felt her own body begin to respond to his.
"I love you,” he repeated and then, turning his head away, he slowly dropped to his knees. Altheia stopped breathing again, fear suddenly racing through her blood. No, she thought. It can't be true. But even as she thought it, her eyes saw the tremors ripple over his body. Her hand reached out to grip the railing. Dear God, he can't be telling the truth. The shocks were becoming more violent and she almost ran to him. Maybe he was having some kind of epileptic seizure or something. He needed her. Her foot stepped down. “No!” The word tore from him, freezing her in place as he looked up at her. His eyes glittered with a feral gleam. She couldn't have moved if she tried. She stared in fear and fascination as his skin rippled and seemed to melt as hair suddenly exploded all over his body. And she must have blinked, because Michael was gone. GONE!
Wolf s
tood proudly in the yard, staring at her. She glanced around. There were at least thirty feet of empty yard in every direction. Slowly she collapsed on the steps. Her mind was numb. She saw it. But her mind refused to accept it. Then she began gasping for breath again, her lungs demanding oxygen. The wolf slowly padded closer, stopping at the foot of the steps.
As her lungs stopped burning, she stared. He had Michael's eyes, but there was no humanity in his gaze. “Michael?” His name left her lips almost inaudibly. Wolf cocked his head. Altheia unconsciously reached out her hand. Wolf moved closer, his head slipped under her palm and he stopped as if he were afraid to move closer. Her fingers buried themselves in his thick silver fur. A nearly human sigh seemed to escape him and his tail tentatively moved back and forth. Somehow he'd moved and his head was in her lap. Wrapping her arms around him, she buried her face in his ruff and wept for the both of them.
Wolf let the female hold him. That she needed him, he understood. The wetness in her eyes and the sobs disturbed him though. He didn't know what he was supposed to do when she did that. What did she want of him? But he knew she was safe for now. Instinct took over and he felt the tremors begin.
It took a minute before Altheia realized what was happening. She started to pull away but a growl from Wolf made her stop, afraid to move. The tremors beneath her hands quickly became violent and she feared for him. Then, even though she refused to so much as blink, she saw him waver before her eyes and disappear. Michael knelt before her, his head in her arms. Altheia thought her heart would break and felt the sobs bubble up through her lips. Then she was in Michael's strong arms. He held her tight against his bare chest as he stroked her back, letting her cry herself out.
He sat there, rocking her in his arms. Even though he felt her pain more sharply than his own, he couldn't stop the pleasure of her in his embrace. If it was possible, he'd never let her go. He held her till she no longer sobbed. He held her till her tears dried on his skin. He continued to hold her until the moon rose bright and high in the sky. She was breathing evenly now and he thought she slept. Even though his naked body felt the chill in the air, he didn't move.
She sighed and tried to sit up, but his arms resisted. He didn't want to let her go. He needed to touch her, to know she was really here. Reluctantly he released her, but captured her hands in his so she couldn't go far. He was afraid but compelled to look in her eyes. The fear was gone, but there was still wariness, and ... pity? Abruptly he dropped her hands and stood, turning away, staring at the moon. He could feel it pulling him even now. It would be full in two days. The bloodlust lapped at the corners of his mind. He stepped down into the yard. “Michael.” Her voice called him back.
God, but he was afraid to look at her again. He couldn't bear to see the pity in her eyes. While he hadn't asked to be what he was, he wouldn't change it if he could. He'd been born this way. Despite the isolation and loneliness, this was what he was. He was not quite sure what he was, but he knew it was not a curse or disease like his father or the others he'd known. He was conceived in his mother's womb and his parents were human. But he knew he was different, some sort of genetic mutation. He'd never heard of another like himself.
"Michael, I'm scared,” she said softly. Her words tore through his heart. The woman he loved was afraid of him. Groaning, he dropped to his knees in the dirt. He would leave.
"What if he comes back?” There was a lump in his throat and he couldn't breathe, her words like a knife in his heart. “Michael, he said he'd hurt me the next time,” she cried.
Michael rose up and spun around, a growl in his throat. “I'll never let him hurt you. I'll kill him first.” She was afraid of the man, not him. He stopped in front of her. Reaching out, he slowly ran his fingers through her hair. Wrapping her hair around his fingers, he gently tugged her toward him. She threw herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. Her body was plastered against his and despite all else, he felt himself respond.
His manhood began to throb against her belly, his control failing fast. Turning his head, he found her mouth, his tongue slipping between her teeth as he began to French kiss her. He felt her work her hands against his chest and he thought she was trying to push him away. He let her go and stepped back, his eyes closing in pain, his hands clenched at his sides.
He jumped. Her fingers were wrapping themselves around him, stroking him. Dear God! Then her tongue, wet and hot ... so very hot ... was lapping delicately on the tip. He groaned. Opening his eyes he looked down to watch her take him into her mouth. His hands reached out to stop her. He couldn't stand it. Her mouth and tongue were driving him mad!
She grasped his hands in hers and, with a strength he didn't know she possessed, held them at his sides. He surrendered, his head falling back, his eyes closed. He let her do what she wanted to do, what he wanted her to do. What she did so very well. With a growl soft in his throat, Michael tensed and then climaxed as pleasurable shock waves ripped through his body, her name on his lips.
As the ecstatic tremors abated, Michael pulled her into his arms, kissing her. “I love you,” he whispered. “Don't leave me. Please don't ever leave me."
Michael swept her up in his arms and carried her into the cabin. Setting her gently on her feet next to the bed, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. His hands found the knot holding her towel closed and released it, letting the cloth drop to the floor at her feet. His eyes swept over her body. “God, you're beautiful,” he whispered.
Scooping her up, he gently placed her on his bed. “Wait here.” Leaving her, he padded quietly around the cabin. She watched him silently as he built a fire in the fireplace and locked up. He turned out the lights and, smiling at her, returned.
Climbing into the bed, he took her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin. They lay like this for a while. “Are you asleep?” he asked softly. She shook her head. Her arm lay across his chest, her hand splayed against his shoulder. Michael thought he could be happy to just lay like this with her for the rest of his life.
He felt her shiver in his arms. The fire made the room toasty warm; he knew she couldn't be cold. “Are you all right?” he asked apprehensively. Again she nodded her head against his chest. His arms tightened, holding her closer. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He would never get tired of holding her.
She sighed, her breath warm on his skin. Pulling back slightly so she could look up at him, she asked, “Is this why you kept running away from me?"
Michael hugged her close again. Please don't let her pull away from him. It would kill him if she left him now. “I didn't know how to tell you. You don't just go around telling anyone you meet that you're a werewolf. I swore I'd never get involved with any woman. And I didn't. Till I met you, that is."
His lips nuzzled her ear and he trailed kisses along her jaw. Reaching her mouth, he kissed her, running his tongue across her lower lip. “You taste like salt and sex. I love it,” he whispered against her mouth as he kissed her again and again. Altheia moaned and pressed closer to him. Michael felt himself swell with his rising passion. Lord, would he ever get enough of kissing her, loving her?
With a groan, Altheia broke the kiss and pulled away. “Michael, we have to talk first. I have to know.” She looked confused. “I just don't understand. I still find this so hard to believe."
Michael forced himself to relax, sat up and leaned against the headboard. Drawing up his knees, he rested his arms on them. There was no reason not to tell her anything. She already knew the worst. “What is it you want to know?"
Looking at him, she found it really hard to believe what she'd seen earlier. Her rational brain kept denying the truth. But then, what really was the truth? “You're really a,” she hesitated, “werewolf?"
"Yes.” There was really no other answer to that question.
"How old were you?” she asked.
"The first time?” he questioned. She nodded. Watching her carefully he answered, “Twelve."
She started. “Twelve? Oh my
God, it must have been horrible. You were just a kid. How did you survive? How did you hide this from your parents? Didn't they notice something was peculiar?"
"Actually, until the first time, they thought I had been born normal. There was never any indication that I was different."
She looked at him confused, “Born normal? I don't understand. Weren't you bit or something?"
"I'm sorry, I thought I explained that. I'm not your stereotypical werewolf. My father was a werewolf but my mother wasn't. I was born this way,” he paused to see if she was listening. “My first transformation took place right after I turned twelve."
"You weren't infected?” she was still not sure she understood correctly.
"No. I guess you could say I'm not really a werewolf as you think of them. Sort of a freak of nature, a mutation I suppose."
She sat back, crossing her legs Indian style, and stared at him intensely. “Are there many like you?"
"I'm the only one I know about. Werewolves are not supposed to be able to breed. My parents were astounded with my impending birth, but when I was born apparently normal, they accepted it for what it appeared ... a normal, if somewhat miraculous event."
She was observing him now with amazement. “Twelve years old ... It's hard to believe. Why so young, or old, I guess?"
He wasn't sure how she'd take the answer to that question, hadn't really thought she'd ask. Oh well. “Near as we could figure out, it was sexual maturity that triggered the first transformation. It must have been nature's way of thinking I was old enough to handle it."
"But how would it determine sexual maturity? Especially in a male.” Curiosity and amazement had her intrigued.
God, but she could ask some real personal questions. She wanted all the bloody details. He was afraid next she would want to know all about his bloodlust and his kills. Somehow he knew the question would come eventually. After all, the full moon was in two nights.
Locking his gaze with hers, he answered calmly, “I had my first sexual encounter with an older neighbor on my twelfth birthday. Several days later there was a full moon."
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