by Wendy Stone
Terry slammed the phone off, throwing it across the room with a strength she didn’t know she possessed. It broke against the wall, spilling its guts onto the carpeting. “Fuck,” she groaned, rocking against the twisting pressure in her belly. “I can’t go there like this.”
She thought of Marissa and Lukah then glanced over at the broken phone, almost crying. “I’ve got to do something!”
* * * *
Nashe breathed a huge sigh of relief as he turned the keys in the final locks of Abstracts, checking through the window to see the green light blinking on the keypad alarm. It was late, he was tired and disheartened. All he wanted to do was to stop at some liquor store on his way home and buy a bottle of something to drown his pain.
Under his arm, he carried the night deposit, close to seven thousand dollars in checks and cash. He started toward his car, hitting the button on his key fob to unlock his door. The trip to the bank was quick and easy, depositing the money into the night deposit box before turning toward home.
The idea of going into that apartment alone was almost enough to make him go back to Abstracts. But the couch there held memories as well, memories of Terry that ate at his gut until he wanted to howl with the pain. He’d been aching all night, his body cramping. But he’d pushed it off on the fight with the Jackals. Maybe he was coming down with something?
He could go to Lukah’s, but the thought of watching Marissa and Lukah together was almost worse than Abstracts. Nashe pulled into a small liquor store, going inside and grabbing a fifth of Jack Daniels from the shelf.
The clerk was an older man, white-haired with a stooped posture that looked painful as he shuffled toward the register. Nashe almost felt bad for making the man move.
“‘S at it for you tonight?”
“Yeah,” Nashe muttered, looking up as another customer came into the store. The kid didn’t look old enough to shave, much less drink. He wore a black sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over his head. Jeans hung off his butt, exposing a great deal of the boxers the kid wore under them. An expensive pair of sneakers was on his feet. He seemed nervous, pacing back and forth in the aisle behind Nashe as if trying to make a decision.
Suddenly, Nashe felt cold metal pressed against the side of his head. He jumped in surprise and the gun barrel was shoved harder into his temple. “Don’t move, man, not unless you want to see what your brains look like on the floor.” The voice was harsh but youthful. Nashe could hear the fear under the bravado.
“Fuck, not again,” the old man said, rolling his eyes. “This’ll be the sixth time this year.” He dropped his hands on the counter, his thumb feeling under the top.
“Don’t touch it, dude. Just put the money in the bag and no one’ll get hurt.” The boy’s hand shook, the barrel of the gun vibrating slightly against Nashe’s skin.
“I’m doing it, just hold onto your drawers, kid.” The old man’s hand shook as he hit the buttons on the register. It beeped, but did nothing else. He tried again, hitting it on the side.
“Don’t fuck with me,” the kid growled, glancing around nervously and jittering in place. “Open the fucking register!”
“It’s jammed,” the old man said, holding his hand up. “I’ve been telling the owner for weeks that he needs to get it looked at. Gimme a second. I’ll get it.”
Nashe felt the barrel leave his head as the kid edged toward the counter, the pistol now trained on the old man. With a move almost faster than a human could see, he reached out and took the gun out of the kid’s hand. Shoving it in the waistband of his pants, he grabbed the kid next.
“Call the cops,” he told the old man.
“Fuck, dude! No, don’t call the cops. I’m sorry, man, really. I won’t do it again.” He struggled like a slick eel in Nashe’s grasp, nearly getting free once. But Nashe was a were; he had reflexes and strength beyond human norms. The kid wasn’t getting away.
The old man was on the phone in a second; the speed he used to grab the receiver belaying his earlier painful shuffle. Ten minutes later, the cops were in the store, taking the kid out of Nashe’s hands. They bagged the gun.
A half an hour after that, Nashe was leaving the store, the bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. He stuck it in the trunk of his Mustang, never turning to look back.
It took him another ten minutes to pull into the parking structure next to his apartment. He grabbed the bottle out of the trunk with a tired sigh. He’d had to force himself not to go to Terry’s apartment. He’d wanted to so badly, just sit outside and watch her lights go off, know she was so close, so incredibly close.
“Fuck it,” he growled, hitting the button on his key fob that locked his doors and armed his car alarm. He stalked into his building and called for the elevator. The ride up seemed to take forever and he twisted the cap off the Jack, taking a long hit from the paper-bag covered bottle.
The doors opened and he stepped out, stomping the short distance to his door. There was a tickle of awareness, a little jingle that slowed his gait and made his head turn toward the stairs. In the small alcove, he could barely make out a dark-shrouded figure.
“Who are you?” he growled, lifting his head to try to catch a scent. After the recent events, his first instinct was to prepare for an attack, but the figure didn’t seem aggressive. Bent and twisted, it stumbled towards him. A sighing cry of pain came from the shadowed form.
That’s when the scent hit him. Terry, mixed with the scent of wolf or panther, he couldn’t quite decide which. “Terry?” he asked slowly, the bottle slipping from his fingers as she limped out of the shadows. She wore a jacket with the hood pulled way over her face, obscuring her features. Her body didn’t look right, arms clutching her sides as if she were holding herself together. “Is that you?”
“Nashe.”
Her voice was garbled, bathed in pain... and husky, unlike anything he’d heard from her before. “Are you all right?” he asked, reaching for her and flipping back the hood.
Shock forced him a step back, a fearful horror that made his green eyes wide. His heart stopped as he stared at her face, now covered with patches of golden blonde fur; one eye the gorgeous blue of the summer sun, the other a white-blue of a wolf.
“How?” he gasped.
“Help me,” she begged, reaching for him as she began to fall.
He scooped her into his arms, managing to fit the key into the lock and take her inside. Laying her on his couch, he went back for the bottle that he’d dropped, setting it on the counter before returning to her.
Terry lay on her side, a grimace of agony upon her beautiful face, now marred with lines of pain and the sporadic patches of fur. Her eyes, both human now, met his. In them he could see the pleading she couldn’t do with her voice.
“How did this happen?” he whispered, sitting next to her. He stroked her hair off her forehead, wishing with everything in him that he could hold her and take away her pain.
“You. Fucked. Me,” she said huskily, panting breaths between each word.
“Oh, my God,” he whispered softly, remembering pushing her up against the counter, taking her from behind. He remembered the taste of her blood in his mouth, blood he’d caused by mashing her lips against her teeth. He’d begun her change, as surely as if he’d meant to do it. Had he meant to do that to her, unconsciously? Had he wanted her that badly in his life he’d expose her to this pain and certain death? “I-I didn’t think… I wanted you so badly.”
“Make the pain stop,” she groaned, crying out. It sounded feeble, as if someone were twisting her insides, mashing them all together, tearing away her breath.
“I can’t,” he whispered, his head dropping to his hands, fingers pushing into his short hair. “I don’t know how.”
“Finish…it,” she hissed, arching her back, her teeth biting deeply into her lip.
“I can’t. It’ll kill you.”
Her hand slammed down on the couch, her fingers curling inward and then creaking as they grew long again. “This is ki
lling me, Nashe,” she cried, tears streaking from her white blue eyes.
“I can’t be responsible for another death,” he groaned, not hiding the tears in his eyes. “I can’t kill you like I did Althea.” He rose from the couch, going to the kitchen, running away from her under the guise of getting her water. He had to find control. He was no use to her like this.
The bottle of Jack Daniels seemed to call him. He wanted so badly to lift it to his mouth and drink until this was nothing more than a nightmare. “How could I have been so stupid?!”
The answer was easy. He loved her. He wanted her to be his mate. He set down the glass, going to the bottle.
A scream from his living room made him drop the bottle onto the hard counter. It busted, the smell of whisky rising like a bitter wave upon the air. He grabbed the water, rushing back. Seeing her, her body half changed, muscles twisted, her face a mask of pain... all he could think of was Althea’s death.
“Terry!” he cried, dropping down to his knees beside her. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do this to you.”
“Finish it,” she begged in a harsh whisper. “Finish the change.”
“I-I tried to mate before,” he whispered, his head against her, her hand in his hair. “She couldn’t… She d-died, from the change. It killed her. I-I killed her because I was selfish and wanted a mate. I-I can’t do it again.”
He heard her swallow, felt her hand stroke his head even as she fought the pain inside.
“If you don’t,” she whispered harshly, “I’ll die anyway.”
Chapter Thirteen
Nashe stared down at her. His hand shook as he gently touched her face, brushing his finger over her lips. “I’m so sorry I did this to you. I know you don’t love me, Terry. But…I do love you. I’m in love with you, that’s why I had to leave you. I didn’t want this to happen.
“I-I love you, too. Please,” she begged. “Finish this. One way or another, it’s better than this.”
Nashe closed his eyes tightly, nodding his head. Lifting her in his arms again, he carried her to his bedroom, carefully putting her on the bed as if she were the most precious and fragile of treasures. “You know what we have to do?”
Terry managed a grimacing smile. “I-I become your blood bitch.”
“You are such a hopeless romantic,” Nashe said, trying to smile despite his fear. “Just lie still, I’ll do everything.” His hands went to the front of her jacket, carefully unzipping it and lifting her to pull it off. She wore nothing under it. “You came prepared,” he said, trying to joke with her.
“Why does it feel better when you touch me?” she whispered, arching into his hands that stroked down her sides to the sweatpants she wore and then down further, pulling off the shoes she’d barely managed to get on her body.
“You crave me now, my blood that will complete the metamorphosis. We’ll be stronger together.” His eyes were on her face, unable to finish what he was thinking. How could he tell her that she probably wouldn’t survive the first complete change?
“Kiss me,” she pleaded, holding up her arms to him. “I need to feel you against me.”
Emotions boiled inside of him, lust mixed with sorrow, love with the pain of mourning. Tears he didn’t know he shed bathed their lips as he found her mouth, kissing her even as her arms fell weakly against his back.
She moaned, a little hint of a sound, but his ears caught it. He was so attuned to her, feeling her pain as well as the pleasure she felt in his kiss, his touch. “I don’t know if I can do this again,” he rasped. “I don’t know if I can watch you die. Everything I feel for you is so much more than I felt for her, for Althea.”
“I won’t die,” Terry whispered, her fingers gently wiping at his tears. “I want to be yours. I’m strong. As long as you’re with me…”
“I’ll never leave you.”
“T-then you’d better get your clothes off,” she tried to joke.
He rose from the bed, pulling his shirt open and dropping it to the floor. He kicked away his shoes, feeling her fingers fumble with his belt. “No, baby, don’t. You’re too weak. Save your strength.”
“I want to touch you,” she pleaded. “I feel so much better when I touch you.”
Nashe couldn’t argue with her. He helped her trembling fingers pull down his zipper, shucking off the pants and boxers while she cupped his cock with her palm. The fire that always rose so quickly between them was there, but it was muted; by worry, by sorrow, and by his fear.
He sat on the bed to pull off his socks, then reached for Terry to finish stripping her bare. Her skin was pale, her eyes lackluster in pain. She smiled up at him bravely, making him hate himself even more. It seemed as if his entire life was culminating in this single moment. “I won’t go on without you,” he promised; and he meant it.
“Shhh. “Come.” She held out her hand, sighing in relief as he enveloped hers in his warm grasp. “Make love to me.”
Nashe held her tight, feeling her muscles tremble, her body tired from fighting for so long. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you get a hold of me earlier?”
“I tried. Your watchdog, Marta, gave me the Mr. Wolfe is unavailable routine. I work in an office. I can tell when someone is screening.” She shifted under him. “I got mad and threw my phone.”
“In the midst of a change?”
She nodded and he smiled with deliberate effort. “I’ll get you another one. Don’t argue,” he said, kissing her lips gently. “It was my fault after all.” His hand smoothed back her hair while his lips moved over her face; tracing the line of her jaw, the hollow of her cheek, the beautiful curve of her brow. Tenderly, he found her ear with his lips, trailing his tongue around the whorled curve, suckling gently against her earlobe.
Her neck was arched, the long line of it seeming to beg for his mouth. He cupped her jaw in his hand, biting with an exquisitely soft nip. His thumb moved over her skin, the softness of her, the silkiness exciting him. Nashe could feel Terry’s hands stroking over his sides. Looking into her face, he saw that her eyes were closed and she was savoring every moment of contact.
He moved lower still, rubbing the whiskered stubble on his cheek lightly against the hard brown nub of her nipple. Terry gasped, moaning in pleasure at the sensation. Her moan turned to a cry as he suckled her. Her skin tasted of salt from her sweat, a slight bitterness from her fear and Terry’s own sweet flavor. Her nipple grew harder against his tongue and he rolled and played with the tender tip. Terry moved beneath him in pleasure.
Nashe turned his head, finding Terry’s other nipple, pulling and biting gently against it as his fingers played with the other. His tongue slid over her skin, tracing the lower curve of her breast, his face nuzzling against her.
Every curve of her ribs seemed prominent as he kissed his way to her stomach, his fingers trailing over her skin. Her muscles tightened, shuddered and he caught the scent of her arousal, the rush of lubricating fluids that had pooled between her thighs. “You want me,” he growled, his cock throbbing against the skin of her leg.
“Yes,” she sighed. “God, yes.”
Lifting his body, he carefully turned her to her stomach, his fingers moving over the sleek muscles of her back, tracing the gentle bumps of her spine and the soft curves of her buttocks. His lips moved over her shoulder, pushing her hair off her neck and plying soft kisses against her sensitive skin.
“N-now?” she whimpered, tightening under him.
Nashe shook his head. “Not yet, my love. When it’s time, you’ll want it as badly as I do. I promise.” He nibbled his way down the line of her spine. She squirmed under him, sighing as their bodies touched, bringing a surcease of the pain. He reached the small of her back, his fingers tracing a small scar, his lips touching the indentation where her rounded cheeks parted. He played with her then, slipping his finger over and down into that tempting crease.
When she spread her thighs for him, moaning and whimpering under him, he knew he couldn’
t wait much longer. The only thing stopping him from consummating the mating was his terror.
“P-please, Nashe. Make me come. I need it.”
His hand was between her thighs, his finger sliding wetly over her clit. She was ready, he knew; just as he knew that after he completed this part of the mating, she would die. Terry’s hips moved with a frenzy of need, almost bucking him off. He pulled his hand away, grabbing her hips and pulling them up, positioning her.
Her flesh was pink, glistening with her need, the folds sweetly swollen. She was beautiful there, soft and tender. Her head turned and she stared back at him. “Do it!”
“I-I… God I don’t know if I can!” he cried. “There’s one other way for the pain to end.”
“W-what are you talking about?” she growled, unable to stop moving, wanting him so badly.
“My death,” he said softly. “If I die now, everything is happening to you stops. You go back to being human.”
“No!” With a strength Nashe hadn’t thought her capable of in her weakened state, she turned and wrapped her arms around him. “I won’t lose you that way. I won’t let you die to save me. I know you’re afraid, Nashe. I am, too. But I’d rather we try than for me to lose you in such a way.” She looked up at him, tears streaming from her beautiful blue eyes. “Promise me you won’t ever say something like that again!”
“Terry…”
“No! We won’t even discuss this. Promise me!”
Nashe wanted desperately to argue but one look into those eyes and he knew he couldn’t. “If I lose you, you won’t be without me very long.” He cupped her face in his warm palm. “You’re my life, Terry. In such a short time, you’ve become everything to me. I was willing to let you walk out of my life rather than do this to you.”
“Hush,” she whispered, her fingers against his lips. “My body’s on fire for you. Make love to me. Change me, please.”
Nashe helped her move back into position, his eyes on the soft flesh so close to him. Bending, he tasted her, finding her clit and swirling his tongue around it. He heard her soft cry, felt another small spurt of her juices as it rushed from her. He covered her soft mound with his hand, letting his thumb play with the hard button of her clit, teasing her even as he began to push inside.