Cry of the Wolf

by Juliet Chastain

  Cry of the Wolf

  Juliet Chastain

  Breathless Press

  Calgary, Alberta

  www.breathlesspress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cry of the Wolf

  Copyright© 2012 Juliet Chastain

  ISBN: 978-1-77101-066-5

  Editor: Spencer Freeman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  Breathless Press

  www.breathlesspress.com

  Cry of the Wolf

  Juliet Chastain

  Chapter One

  The gray wolf sat still and silent on the moonlit hillside. He watched the woman, as he did most nights, while she finished her chores, and then as she moved about her kitchen behind the big picture window. The lights went off in the house, but still the wolf didn’t move. He remained, motionless, watching the window where the last light had gone out, thinking about her, yearning for her.

  The rest of the pack—four gray wolves—had awakened and joined him in his vigil. They were restless, padding back and forth nervously or sitting, ears cocked, uncomfortable, anxious to move away from this exposed place, eager to get back to the cover of the woods, eager to begin the hunt. He was the alpha, the leader, and the decision maker, so they stayed with him.

  He knew they couldn’t understand; he couldn’t really understand it himself. He had long ago decided to leave mankind—and his own humanity—behind, to be nothing but a wild creature, a wolf. Then he’d seen the woman. Something about her had drawn him to her and to this place, this small farm where she lived alone. Again and again he had sat here and watched her, first with animal fascination, then with human longing.

  The other four animals grew even more restless and began to whine softly. “Danger,” they were saying, “there’s danger here.” He snarled softly to remind them that he was the leader, that it was his choice, and his alone, whether they stayed or went.

  Then he heard the movement, a gentle rustle coming from the dark side of the house. He leaped to his feet and barked the order to run for cover.

  Two wolves who had no experience with the ways of man turned, snarling, to protect the retreat of the others. Shots rang out in the darkness and they fell to the ground.

  Chapter Two

  Laura awakened to terrible sounds—gunfire, barks, excited yelling, and cursing, screams of pain. She stumbled out of bed and rushed to the window. The light of the moon, a few days past its fullest, reflected off the snow covering the field on the hillside behind her house. It cast ominous shadows around the winter-naked trees of the wooded area that began at the top of the hill. She saw a big man with a rifle running up the hill, her neighbor Joel Coughlin. Another man, this one shorter but with a big belly, Joel’s father, Billy Coughlin, moved more slowly behind him. She hated the two always-angry-at-something men who collected grudges the way some kids collected Pokémon cards. Then she saw the gray shapes—wolves—lying lifeless on the hillside.

  Fury overcame her. The wolves had been reintroduced to this part of the country a few years ago. Killing them was against the law. Now these had been killed on her land in spite of the No Hunting signs she’d plastered everywhere specifically to keep the Coughlins away. She grabbed her robe, shoved her feet into her sheepskin slippers, and ran down the stairs and out the back door into the snow.

  “Billy Coughlin, Joel, you get off my land!” She ran through the snow toward them, not giving a thought to the fact that the two armed men could shoot her just as easily as they had the animals lying in the snow. Not that they actually would shoot a human being—or might they? They were vicious enough and probably drunk as well. “You have no right to be here,” she cried.

  Grinning, Billy swung his rifle around and aimed it at her. Joel made a derisory snorting sound.

  He said, “That so? We’re just cleaning up the vermin for you. Keeping you safe. The big bad wolf could eat you up, little lady. You should be grateful.”

  “It’s illegal to kill gray wolves. Don’t think I’m not going to report you.” Of all the people on earth, why did these two creeps have to live next door to her?

  “They were killed on your land, sweetheart. Who’s to say it wasn’t you that killed them? Maybe planning to make yourself a nice little fur coat from their skins,” Billy said.

  “I don’t even own a gun.”

  “Well, maybe you should.” Billy stepped closer to her and then closer still—too close.

  She could smell the alcohol on his breath and stepped back.

  “A little lady like you living all alone.” He threw his gun aside. “Why, look there, that’s the gun you borrowed from me. I lent it to you on account of I thought we were friends and you needed a little protection.” He lunged forward, grabbed her and, pressing her against his oversize belly, tried to press his mouth to hers.

  She managed to turn her head away, but he only held her tighter. Somehow she freed one arm and tore at his face with her nails. With a yelp he stepped backward striking her so hard on the side of her head that she flew backward a couple of feet and fell to her back in the snow.

  “Hey, Joel, come here,” she heard him call. “Come see what I caught.” Billy came toward her, pulling off his belt. She tried to slither backward away from him. Terror filled her. “Bitch scratched me! She needs a good beating. I’m gonna enjoy giving it.” He lifted the belt to strike her.

  A silent gray form flew at him, bringing him to the snow-covered ground just a few feet from where she lay. Just seconds later, a single gunshot rang out, and the animal somersaulted away from Billy Coughlin and lay still on the ground.

  Joel Coughlin ran to his father. “You okay, Dad?”

  Swearing profusely, Billy Coughlin pushed himself up, his neck and shoulder bleeding.

  “Son of a bitch!” Joel spat and slammed his rifle butt down on the animal’s hip. The wolf flinched, its breath ragged, but its gaze never left Joel. Laura scrambled over to Billy’s rifle and came quickly to her feet, clutching the gun in her hands.

  She aimed the gun at Joel and said, ice in her voice, “Get off my land. Get off my land now!” She put her finger on the trigger and held the gun up to eye level the way she’d seen it done on TV, the way she’d seen the Coughlins hold theirs. She’d never held a gun in her life. She hoped like hell that she looked like she knew what she was doing.

  Joel seemed to think that she did. He threw his gun to the ground. Hands in the air, he backed away, then turned and walked quickly in the direction of Billy’s truck. Billy staggered to his feet, holding his bloodied neck. “I’m injured,” he croaked, “I can’t walk that far.”

  “Get going,” Laura snapped, and he did—slowly, defiantly. He stopped to kick the wolf. As he prepared to kick it again, Laura, aiming at the sky, pulled the trigger. The recoil almost knocked her over, but Billy Coughlin didn’t notice because he was running away from her.

  Laura lay the gun down in the snow and knelt beside the wolf. “Poor wolf,” she said softly. “I am so sorry.” Tears ran down her cheeks as she saw the fur matted with blood on its—his, she saw that the animal was a male—side. She knew that she should keep her distance from wild animals, especially one as dangerous as a wolf, yet she felt compelled to stroke his head and neck, careful not to touch the wound on his shoulder. “You saved me. I know you didn’t mean to, but you did.”

&
nbsp; She put her ear to his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, strong and regular. “I’ll try to get the vet,” she said. “I’m going to cover you to keep you warm.” She stood and pulled off her robe and nightgown. She planned to put them over the animal to try to keep him warm while she called the vet. She’d bring out blankets after that.

  She looked down at the wolf at her feet and cried out in shock. Stunned, she gasped for breath. She could not believe her eyes. The fur was disappearing from his face and body, his shape was changing, his hind legs were growing longer. The wolf was no longer a wolf. He was changing into a man.

  Chapter Three

  A bitter cold crept into him and the pain was excruciating, yet the woman, the beautiful sweet-faced woman whom he had been watching for months, the woman whom he had been longing for, caressed and murmured to him, comforting him with her soft, soothing words. Her deep blue eyes looked at him with tenderness and pity while he was a wolf. As a man, women paid him lots of attention and as a wolf, female wolves looked on him with favor, but this had never happened. Not in all his life had a human being acted kindly to him when he was a wolf.

  He suppressed an anguished howl. Was he close to her at last, the woman of his dreams, only to die miserably in the snow at her feet? She stood above him now, removing her clothing. She’d said something about covering him to keep him warm. He whined softly. She was even more beautiful up close than he had imagined she would be. The sight of her opulent naked body above him in the moonlight overwhelmed him with desire and shook his very being. He felt himself suddenly ablaze with passion—the passion of a man. He felt himself begin to transform and, in the grip of his all too human emotions, he couldn’t stop himself.

  He heard her cry out in surprise. She had seen him change from an animal to a man. Now she would know him for the monster he was and would run screaming from him. No way she’d ever want him the way he wanted her. His dreams of human happiness were just dreams and nothing more. He closed his eyes, hoping he would die soon.

  “I don’t understand, I—I—this is impossible,” she stuttered. “It’s like out of a book! I…I must be dreaming. I have to be dreaming. This cannot be happening…”

  Then she spoke in a firmer voice. “No, as insane as this is, it’s real—at least I think so. Even if I am dreaming, I’m not going to let you die. I don’t know what you are, but I’m going to do everything I can to help you.” She gently touched his forehead. “You are so cold.” Her warm breasts brushed against his chest as she leaned over him, trying to position something—her robe—under him, between him and the snow. “Covering you with my nightgown won’t be enough; the cold will kill you…

  “I have to warm you up really fast,” she said softly. “It’ll take me too long to run to the house and get blankets to cover you. I’ll have to give you my own body heat. You’re unconscious, so you’ll never know.” He realized that although she was addressing him, she was really talking to herself. “Once I’ve warmed you up a little, I’ll get blankets. I’ll be careful to not to touch you where you’re wounded.” He felt the whole length of her warm, naked body press against him. Her hands cupped his face, warming his cheeks. “There,” she murmured, “let’s get a little warmth into you. When you’re warm enough, I’ll cover you with my nightgown before I go inside and call the ambulance.”

  “No ambulance,” he said, opening his eyes and looking at her. “Let me die happy.”

  “Oh.” She pulled away slightly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “You need to go to the hospital—you’ve been badly injured. I thought you were unconscious.” She paused before adding, “I’m…well, I’m just trying to warm you up. You were so cold. Are you warm enough now?”

  “No, please stay, it really helps.” That was all he could think to say. He couldn’t say what he really felt, which was that he loved the feel of her body against his, that he had longed for it, dreamed of it. He couldn’t mention the heat rising from his groin and spreading throughout his body, or the fact that he had looked for someone like her his whole life as man. There was no way he’d admit that he longed to put his arms around her, to draw her even closer.

  “I can bring some blankets to you, but if you think you can walk,” she said, “we can go inside where it’s warm. The hospital is quite a distance, so I’m afraid it’ll be a little while until the ambulance gets here.”

  “Just give me a few minutes to gather my strength.” He wanted to keep her here, against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her belly and thighs against his own, her sex deliciously, dangerously close to his.

  “Um, my arm…may I put it around you? It’s very cold.”

  “Yes, of course. Anything you need to do to be warm.” Did she feel the same desire that tore through him when he put his arm around her and gently drew her closer? Her gaze met his. Yes, he could see the first stirrings of arousal there. He’d known enough women to recognize the look, but he suspected that she wasn’t the type to bed a total stranger. Plus, she’d just seen him change from wolf to man and that might scare the hell out of her—in fact it might make him repulsive in her eyes.

  After a couple of minutes, she began to shiver. He said, “I’m ready.” He would have liked to hold her forever, but he wouldn’t let her stay in the cold any longer. Nothing he could do about his hard-on, except hope she didn’t mind.

  “Just let me put this on.” She stood and slipped the flannel nightgown over her head. Pity to hide that glorious body, those exquisite, generous breasts that he’d love to cup in his hands, whose nipples he’d love to kiss, to lick, to take between his lips and—

  “How about if I put my arm under you like this and help you sit up?”

  She put the robe over his shoulders and helped him to his feet. She slipped herself under his arm on his undamaged side and they slowly made their way through the snow and into her house, where she guided him onto the sofa near the fireplace.

  I’m going to call the ambulance now,” she said as she covered him with several blankets.

  “I’m fine,” he replied. “I just need a couple days of rest.”

  “You probably have a bullet in you and you may well have some broken bones, to say nothing of the fact that you can barely walk.”

  “Yes,” he admitted, “you’re right. But I’m afraid that if they put me under I might…well I might transition back into a wolf and then all hell would break loose. I prefer to keep my, um, animal side a secret. No one has ever known until you saw me change tonight.”

  “I’ll go with you. I’ll tell them they must only use local anesthetic; I’ll say that you’re allergic to the kind that knock you out. I might have to pretend I’m your sister or your wife or something—”

  “Wife works.”

  “Um, okay. Right now, I’m going to make some cocoa to warm us up and get you some clothes.” She disappeared into the next room. With his superb wolf hearing, he not only heard her dial 911 and ask for an ambulance but also the sleepy voice of the dispatcher, followed by the sound of water running into a kettle and the kettle being set on the stove. He heard her slippered feet run up the stairs and down a hall and then the sound of drawers being pulled open. He heard the whisper of fabric as she dressed, then her feet, now in socks, as they came down the stairs. With his wolfish sense of smell he could still detect the gentle scent of her body on his own. He breathed it in deeply and once more desire swept over him.

  She came into the room holding up a pair of thick, gray woolen socks. “I brought you these,” she said. “I wear them as a second layer, so I think they’ll fit.” She draped them over the spitting, rattling radiator. “These pants might do.” They went onto the radiator too. Then she turned to face him.

  “My name is Laura,” she said.

  “I’m Michael. Great to meet you, Laura.” He thought that sounded really stupid under the circumstances, but he really meant it—in fact, never in his life had he been as happy to meet someone, although he knew her name already.

  She smiled
at him. She took the socks off the radiator one at a time and gently put them on his feet. She picked up the pants, blushed, and put them back, muttering something about how the ambulance guys could do that for him and then walked out of the room.

  The smell of the cocoa he heard her stirring in the kitchen wafted into the room where he lay. He’d concentrate on that instead of her scent on his body. Didn’t need a hard-on when the ambulance arrived.

  Chapter Four

  Laura came back to the hospital around noon, carrying bags of clothes she’d bought for Michael. She’d gotten him two pairs of jeans, a few flannel shirts, a thick, gray, zip-up sweatshirt, some socks and underwear, a pair of running shoes, and a down jacket.

  Last night as she’d followed the ambulance in her car, she’d been afraid for him—afraid the wound might be fatal, afraid that somehow people would discover what he was. And, she had to admit to herself, she wanted to be near him. Something about Michael tugged at her heart—and at other parts of her as well.

  In the emergency room, Michael had worn her blanket around his shoulders—no way any of her tops would go over those broad shoulders of his—and a pair of her drawstring pants that ended well above his ankles, plus a pair of her socks. Even in that ridiculous outfit he’d somehow looked all male with his ruggedly handsome face and his strange, shaggy hair—gray and black with a little cream, like the coat of the wolf he’d been. His eyes were a pale, yellowish-green. No doubt the guy was gorgeous. She’d seen female doctors and nurses pause to give him a second look or go out of their way to check up on him as he lay in the cubical in the emergency room. At least he’d lost the impressive erection she hadn’t been able to help noticing when she tried to warm him with her body. She smiled to herself.