Desired by the Wolf Box Set

by Mac Flynn

  Lenore frowned. "I'm fine, just a little-I don't know. A little uneasy. This place still haunts my dreams sometimes."

  "Because of the incident?" he guessed.

  She nodded. "Yes." She sighed and shook her head. "You probably think I'm a big baby for being scared of something that happened so long ago."

  "On the contrary. What happens in the past can effect us for a very long time," he argued. His voice lowered and he turned his head away. "Some scars never heal."

  "Scars?" she wondered.

  Nick smiled and turned back to her. "It looks like I've told you my other big secret. I'm not the Adonis people make me out to be."

  She looked over his perfectly sculpted body and raised an eyebrow. "Is there a funny birthmark I need to know about?" she teased.

  Nick chuckled. "Not something that tame." He released her hands and unbuttoned his shirt. Lenore's face reddened, but she didn't look away. The buttons fell one-by-one to reveal pale skin and tight muscles. He was halfway down the shirt before her eyes noticed the top of a large scar. Nick finished unbuttoning and opened his shirt for a full view.

  His abdomen sported a scar that stretched from side to side. The old wound had jagged edges and at its widest was four inches. The flesh was a light pink and had grown back in uneven patches with valleys inside the scar.

  He eyes widened. "What happened?" she gasped.

  "An animal attacked me a very long time ago," he told her.

  "How did you survive?" She instinctively reached out and glided her fingers across the scar. The skin was rough and pliable.

  Nick flinched and grabbed her hand. "I'm rather ticklish there," he told her.

  "Sorry," she apologized.

  "It's fine. I would be curious about it, too, if I didn't see it every day," he replied. He buttoned his shirt and hid his wound. "As for how I survived, it was luck. I had a gun on me at the time and used the butt to bludgeon it to death."

  She frowned. "Why not shoot it?"

  A mirthless grin slid onto his face. "Bullets didn't seem to bother it much."

  Lenore tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow. "What sort of animal was it?"

  Nick took her arm and guided her onward down the path. "A wolf, if I'm not mistaken, but we were talking about your fears from the past," he playfully scolded her.

  She cringed. "I'd much rather talk about your past. It sounds a lot more interesting."

  "Perhaps another time when you've gotten to know me better," he replied.

  "Do you have to be so mysterious?" she wondered.

  He smiled with that strange half-grin of his. "What would a dashing man like me be without my secrets?"

  "A dashing man who should have a pretty lady wrapped around his arm and for some unknown reason has this pudgy one," she countered.

  "I prefer women with meat on their bones," he reminded her.

  "And fat?" she wondered.

  "What would a tasty treat be without a little fat to sweeten the deal?" he returned.

  "A little healthier, but I'm starting to wonder if you want me around for my wonderful personality or my fat body. Am I going to be your emergency food rations?" she wondered.

  He paused and tapped a finger against his chin as he stared into the distance. "I hadn't thought of that, but it wouldn't be a bad idea," he agreed.

  Lenore rolled her eyes and freed herself from his gentle grasp. "Well, this emergency food ration would like to go back to the house. I think my jeans are covered enough in a wide variety of weed seeds. My neighbors will just love me."

  Nick's face fell. "I'm sorry. I thought maybe you'd enjoy the scenery."

  She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "It's not the scenery, or you. It's a nice yard, what little I can see of it. It's just I feel out of sorts. Maybe you're right and I need to rest a bit," she told him.

  He offered her his arm. "Then let's get back to the house. I know a shortcut through this mess." They wound their way to the rear of the house where sat the back door. The back was as decrepit as the front with damaged window panes and cobwebs covering every nook and corner. Lenore paused in the doorway and ran her hand along the frame. Nick watched her face as she examined the rough boards. "More memories?" he asked her.

  "This is the door Stan and I used to get into the house." She winced and pulled back her hand. A large splinter stuck out from her finger. "The door still hates me. It bit me then, too." Lenore yelped when Nick grabbed her hand and quickly wrapped a handkerchief around her wounded finger. "Hey, let me get the splinter out first!" she protested.

  Nick cautiously tipped the handkerchief so he could peek under the cloth, and he smiled. "No need." He pulled away the handkerchief and revealed to her an unblemished finger and no splinter.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped. She looked from the finger to Nick. "How?" she wondered.

  He opened the handkerchief and in the cloth lay a long, thick splinter. Beneath it was a small dribble of blood. "It must have been a shallow wound, though it could have been nastier." Lenore reached out for the splinter, but he wrapped the cloth around the splinter and pocketed it. "I don't think you should test fate again," he teased.

  She frowned and crossed her arms. "You're starting to remind me of my brother, and I'm not going to kiss my brother," she scolded him.

  Nick smiled. "Is that a threat?" he asked her.

  "Just a warning not to be such a worry-wart," she teased as they walked inside.

  Chapter 7

  The rear door led into the hall that traversed the whole of the house, and they met Stan near the basement door. Nick's eyes flickered between his workman and the closed basement door, but his voice didn't betray any of his suspicions. "How's the work going?" he asked Stan.

  "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Stan wondered.

  "The bad news."

  "This place might bankrupt you," Stan warned.

  Nick grinned. "I don't think it will completely drain my coffers, but thanks for the concern. What's the good news?"

  "This place might bankrupt you," Stan told him.

  "How soon will you know the former and the latter?" Nick asked him.

  Stan furrowed his brow and glanced over the walls in the hall. "I'll need to rip apart some of these walls to get a better idea of what we'll need, and then I'll go down to the lumber yard for a rough estimate. I can start that later this afternoon after I take Lenore back home."

  Lenore frowned. "Why do I need to go home?" she wondered.

  "Because you just fell out of a car less than an hour ago. The least you can do is go home and lay down on the couch," he advised her.

  Lenore turned to Nick. "Let me guess, you agree with him, don't you?"

  Nick smiled. "Will you treat me like your brother if you do?" he wondered.

  "Depends on the answer," she argued.

  Nick sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid I have to agree with your brother, and add that maybe you should call in sick to work. I'm sure your excuse will be original," he pointed out.

  She threw up her arms. "Fine, I know when I'm not wanted." She turned to Stan and waved her hand toward the front door. "Take me home, Jeeves, and this time mind the potholes."

  "So long as you watch the truck door," he reminded her.

  Nick stepped between Lenore and the door and offered her his hand. "I hope this episode won't keep you away from my home," he mused.

  Lenore took his hand and gave it a hearty shake. "Only if my brother's truck ends up killing me on the way home," she told him.

  Nick looked past her to her brother behind her. "I could have that fixed for you," Nick offered.

  Stan shook his head. "I'll fix it myself just as soon as I drop Lenore off."

  Lenore folded her arms and glanced between the two men in her life. "Well, now that you've both decided what to do with me, could I chime in with a suggestion?"

  Stan and Nick glanced at each other, and both had a mischievous glint in their eyes. "Should we?" Nick as
ked Stan.

  "We probably don't want to hear it," Stan replied. Lenore's mouth dropped open, and Stan grabbed one of her arms and pulled her backwards down the hall to the front door.

  She struggled in his firm but gentle grip, but didn't loose herself. "Wait a minute! This is a democracy! You have to at least listen to what I have to say!" she protested.

  "Welcome to a patriarchal dictatorship," Nick called to her before Stan hurried her outside.

  Lenore faced forward and glared at her traitorous brother. "Some help you are," she snapped at him. Her playful mood slipped away when she noticed the worried creases around his eyes and lips. "What's wrong? You look constipated," she commented.

  "I'm not sure yet, but I don't think we should trust that guy completely," Stan replied.

  "But you just took his side in a very important argument," she reminded him.

  Stan stopped them at the end of the walkway and turned so they faced each other. "I did that so he wouldn't suspect anything."

  "Suspect anything? You make this sound like a bad cop show," she quipped.

  "Lenore, this is serious. I don't think I want you to see that guy again. Not until I look into a few things, okay?"

  Lenore broke from his grasp and frowned. "I'd like a side-order of explanation with that demand," she requested.

  Stan's eyes flickered over her shoulder to the house behind her. "I wish I could, but I don't know what he did to you down in that basement and I want to find out."

  Lenore raised an eyebrow. "What do you think he did to me?"

  Stan pursed his lips, and pulled out the vial he swiped. "I think he made you drink one of these," he told her.

  She took the vial and swished the contents around. It was thick, sticky, and red. "What is it?"

  "If I knew that then I'd have your explanation. All I know is there was an open box with the word 'Samples' written on it, and I saw a vial just like this one on the floor near the couch," he replied. He took the vial back and pocketed it in his coat pocket.

  "So he made me drink from a strange vial of goop, so what?" she challenged him.

  "So I think it healed all the stuff you got from falling out of my truck," he replied.

  Her face drooped. "And you think that's a bad thing?"

  "We don't know the side effects this stuff might cause. What if it ends up killing you?" he pointed out.

  Lenore growled and opened her arms. "I'm fine, see? Nothing wrong with me internally or externally. Limbs still all there, guts still all there. Whatever he gave me probably just helped wake me up. I wasn't exactly conscious for most of the fun," she reminded him.

  Stan sighed and shrugged. "I'm not trying to be a-"

  "-paranoid twerp?" she suggested.

  "A pain," he corrected her. "But I am trying to be your big brother, and right now your big brother is telling you that something isn't quite right here. Just give me a day or two to figure some things out, okay?"

  She nodded at his pocket. "You're going to run that thing by your cop friends, aren't you?"

  "Just to see what's in it. There's nothing illegal about a little curiosity," he defended himself.

  Lenore smiled. "Well, just don't go sneaking into that house of his. The last time we snuck in there it didn't end up too well for us."

  Stan smirked. "I promise to behave if you do."

  "I don't make promises I can't keep," she teased.

  The humor slipped from his face. "Then swear to me you'll try your best to stay away that guy."

  Lenore sighed, but nodded her head. "Fine, I swear I'll try my best to stay away from him."

  "Good. Now let's get you home and to that comfortable couch," he suggested.

  "It's not that-" Lenore paused and whipped her head toward a growth of wild bushes surrounding a wide-trunked tree with a thick, low canopy.

  "What is it?" Stan asked her.

  "I thought I heard something," she replied. She crunched through the dead leaves and peeked around the tree. Nobody was there. She turned to Stan and shrugged. "Guess I was just hearing things."

  "Well, let's go before you start hearing things that are there," he replied.

  Stan and Lenore strode off to his truck. A soft breeze swirled around where they stood, and in the low canopy above their heads a pair of yellow eyes watched the truck drive off.

  Chapter 8

  Stan parked his truck outside Lenore's house and she stepped out. Before she closed the door he leaned across the seat and looked to her. "Remember your swear!" he reminded her.

  She rolled her eyes and slammed the door shut. "I don't think you'll let me forget it," she teased.

  Stan drove off and she waved her goodbyes to him. Lenore turned to her comfortable two-story home and walked up to the door.

  "Lenore!" a voice called.

  Lenore froze and inwardly groaned. She plastered a fake smile on her face and turned around. A short, pudgy, bespectacled, balding man in a white shirt and blue shorts hurried over to her from the yard next door. She was loathe to admit it, but this toady of a man was her neighbor. "Good day, Mr. Godding," she greeted him as he stopped in front of her.

  "It's Herb, Lenore," he reminded her.

  "I do keep forgetting that, don't I?" she commented.

  "Yes, but I still love you for it," he replied. She had a feeling the love ran deeper than she cared to entertain.

  "Um, thanks. I think. But what brings you all the way over here?" she asked him.

  "Oh! Right!" He puffed himself up to his full height of five-foot nothing. "As the president of the home owner's association it's my responsibility to inform everyone that there's been sightings of a large dog in the neighborhood. Everyone is to keep their pets locked up at night until further notice."

  "I'll be sure to do that when I buy a pet," she assured him.

  "And you might want to watch yourself when you get home from work. The dog's supposed to be as big as a wolf, and it's already ruined several garbage cans foraging for food," he warned her.

  "I'll make sure to have a steak on me in case I need to distract it," she replied.

  Godding lowered his imperious stance and his eyes flitted over her body. "I was wondering if maybe you didn't want to stay at my place until this crisis ends. For moral comfort." She had a feeling comfort was less moral and more physical.

  "The only crises you've warned me about are endangered pets and people mourning over their garbage cans. I don't have a pet, and I'm sure I can handle mourning my garbage can on my own," she told him. She opened her door and stepped inside. "Good day, Mr. Godding."

  Lenore shut the door on his surprised face. She turned, slumped her back against the entrance, and sighed. "What has gotten into me? I'm never this short-tempered, even with Godding," she murmured.

  Her stomach rumbled and her head ached. She opted for food, then a long nap before work. Lenore strode over to her fridge and scanned the interior. There was a wide assortment of expired foods and half-drank pop cans. Her eyes stopped on a package of thawed steak. She meant to cook it a few days ago, but forgot. Now the meat had her full attention. Its drizzling blood tempted her.

  Lenore took it out and set it on the counter. She meant to pull out a frying pan and cook it, but she paused over the meat. That sumptuous red flesh. That thick, juicy bone. The long, slender line of fat. She didn't know what came over her, but she had to have that meat. She couldn't wait.

  Lenore grasped the package and tore it open with trembling hands. She bit into the raw meat and pulled it apart with her teeth. She groaned when the thick blood poured down her throat. Her only disappointment was it wasn't warm.

  Lenore didn't stop until the entire one-pound steak was consumed. She leaned forward against the counter gasping for breath. Her eyes fell empty package in front of her. There was only a bit of bone and a pool of blood. She froze as the realization of what she'd just done hit her. Lenore raised her hands in front of her and her eyes widened when she glimpsed their blood-soaked fingers. She gasped and stum
bled away from the evidence of her madness.

  Lenore turned and caught sight of the sink. She flew over and turned on the water. Her fingers dipped into the warm water and the blood washed down the drain. She shut off the water, grasped the edge of the sink, and leaned over it. Her mouth was filled with the flavor of raw meat. She licked her lips and her tongue tasted the blood.

  "What the hell is wrong with me?" she gasped. She glanced over her shoulder at the empty package. It stoked her fear. She marched over and tossed it into the trash beneath the sink. Out of sight, out of mind, but that didn't rid her of the sticky mess over her face.

  Lenore fled from the kitchen and hurried upstairs to the bathroom. She looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the woman there. The face of that wild thing in the mirror was covered in blood. The red stains peppers her cheeks, and a thick ring lay around her lips. She cringed and hurriedly washed off the thick, sticky liquid. Lenore tried another glance in the mirror, and her frightened but clean face stared back at her. She released a shuddering sigh and ran a hand through her hair. The effect was to make her even more wild.

  "Get a grip on yourself, Lenore. Just because you ate a whole raw steak doesn't mean you've completely flipped," she comforted herself. Her eyes flickered to her image and she snorted. "No, it just means that you've just slightly flipped." Lenore shuffled backwards and collapsed atop the closed toilet seat. She clutched her face in her hands and tried hard not to imagine how many e. coli bacteria she'd practically inhaled.

  "Why did I just eat that stuff? I don't even like medium-rare," she mumbled. Her first thought was of the vial Stan had swiped from Nick. Her brother had said something about Nick giving her some of that stuff. Stan had suggested it would kill her.

  Lenore shook her head and stood. There was nothing to what Nick had given her, if he'd given her anything. Stan only mentioned that he'd seen a vial beneath the couch. There were a million ways it could have gotten there.

  "Tired. I'm just really tired after that fall from the truck," she told herself. Lenore stumbled to her bedroom and collapsed on the bed. She closed her eyes and welcomed sleep.

  The next thing she knew her phone in her pocket was ringing. She groaned and pulled out the phone. The screen was cracked and scuffed. She'd need to get a new one. The caller was the number from work. She put the phone against her ear. "Hello?" she mumbled.