by Nina Croft
Regan turned to him. “Did you see them, Caleb? That night in the forest. They’re big, you couldn’t miss them.”
He shook his head. “I saw nothing else.”
Lola handed a mug of coffee to Caleb. “There’s cream and sugar on the counter.” She handed a second mug to Regan, who bent her head and breathed in the rich scent.
“Right,” Lola said brightly. “What have you two been up to?”
“I got bitten by a werewolf,” Regan replied.
Lola’s eyes widened. “I never saw that.” She studied Regan, head cocked on one side. “But you know, it would explain something I did see.” She cast a speculative glance at Caleb. “It wasn’t you, was it?”
“No!” They both spoke together.
“Good,” Lola said. “But you do know something about werewolves?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “A little.”
“So, are you going to stick around and help?” Catrin asked.
“No,” Regan snapped.
Catrin ignored her. “She’ll need you.”
He snorted. “She doesn’t need anybody.”
Regan decided it was time to step in. “No, I don’t.”
“See.”
“You’re wrong. She’s not as hard as she makes out.”
Caleb looked at Regan. She wiped all expression away and stared back.
“Yeah,” he drawled, “she’s a real marshmallow. I can see that.” He took a swallow of coffee then put his mug down on the counter.
He was leaving. She should have been glad—she didn’t need him. She didn’t need anybody.
But she didn’t feel glad.
A hard lump formed in the pit of her stomach, her eyes ached, and she had to bite back the urge to beg him to stay. She didn’t know why. He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her, and that was for the best. So instead, she lounged against the counter, sipped her coffee, and tried to appear nonchalant as he strode across the room.
Catrin put her own mug down and hurried after him. She took a card from her pocket and held it out.
“The house number. And my cell,” she said. “Call if you need anything.”
He took the card and shoved it in his own pocket without glancing down. At the door, he turned around and looked back at Regan.
“Just—” he paused, then shook his head. “Be careful and remember what I told you.”
The door closed behind him. Regan stood unmoving. She listened as the truck started up, and he drove away. For a moment, she couldn’t believe he was gone.
Catrin came up beside her, took Regan’s mug, and placed it on the counter, then put her arms around her and hugged her tight.
“Don’t worry,” Lola said from behind them. “He’ll be back.”
Regan pulled away and turned so she could see into her little sister’s eyes. “You’ve seen this?”
Lola shrugged. “Not as such.”
“Then he won’t be back. And you know what—that’s good, because I don’t want him back, and I certainly don’t need him back.”
She took a deep breath. Time to try and sort out this mess. “Come on. Let’s go find a spell that will stop me from turning furry. I reckon we have ten days to do it in.”
#
Regan slammed the spell book closed and sat back in her chair, running a hand through her long hair. Her scalp hurt, and her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep.
“There’s nothing here,” she muttered. She thumped her fist down on top on the book. “How can there be nothing? It’s like they don’t exist.”
Over the past nine days, she had read every book in the library. She’d been expecting a simple “How to counteract a werewolf bite” sort of spell to jump out at her. But there was nothing.
She sprang to her feet, paced the room. Finally, she came to a halt by the window and stared out into the darkness. The night was cloudy, but as she watched, the wind blew the clouds aside, revealing the almost perfect circle of the moon. It pulled at something deep inside her, called to her, and she reached out and savagely dragged the curtains closed.
She didn’t need any reminders that tomorrow was the full moon. She could sense it with every fiber of her being.
“You know, you could try praying to our mother.”
Catrin’s voice came from behind her, and Regan stiffened at the words. She whirled around. Catrin was lying on the maroon velvet sofa, an enormous leather tome balanced on her stomach. She looked as tired as Regan felt, with dark shadows under her eyes. Lola was fast asleep in the armchair opposite—an open book on her knee.
“That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?” Regan asked. Then she sighed—there was no point taking this out on Catrin. “Anyway, do you think I haven’t? And a totally pointless exercise it was, too. Just like always.”
She sank onto the sofa next to Catrin and lifted the book slightly, so she could read the title. “A History of the Supernatural Races. Any good?”
“It’s fascinating.”
“I don’t suppose there’s anything about werewolves in there.”
“Actually, there is.”
Regan perked up. “Anything useful?”
“No, not really.”
“Why doesn’t that come as a surprise?” She pushed Catrin’s legs out of the way and sat back, leaned her head against the sofa, and closed her eyes.
“There’s a lot of stuff about why there isn’t a lot of stuff, if you know what I mean.”
Regan sighed again. “As usual, I have no idea.”
“Well, you said it yourself—there just isn’t anything here on them, and there should be.”
Regan blinked. “So?”
“Well, when the Council was formed, they refused to let the werewolves in. Aden, the first head of the Council, was a vampire, and they hate the weres. They consider them savages.” She giggled. “They had them downgraded to animals.”
“Hmm, I wonder why?” Regan said, rubbing at her shoulder. She could feel the effects of her own meeting with one of those “animals,” and she wasn’t going to argue with the description. Actually, it was a little insulting to animals.
“Anyway, they went off in a huff and since then have pretty much kept to themselves.”
“Well, that’s interesting, but it doesn’t help.”
“It also says that werewolves can’t be born; they all start off as humans who get bitten. Apparently, female werewolves miscarry when they shift at full moon, and humans don’t seem capable of getting pregnant by a werewolf.”
“Again…interesting, but how does it help me?”
“It doesn’t,” Catrin conceded. She closed the book and put it on the floor. “We could go ask the Council.”
“No way.”
Catrin sighed. “Then maybe you should go see Caleb.”
Regan would have liked to say the idea had never occurred to her, but it had, and more than once. It was obvious that Caleb knew a lot about the wolves. But it was unlikely that he would know a way to stop what was happening to her. In fact, he’d told her categorically that there was no way to stop the change. Still, he knew more than they did, and she wouldn’t be going into it quite so blind.
She was scared.
There—she’d admitted her fear. Which made it real.
Regan wasn’t happy about admitting it, even to herself, and certainly wasn’t about to say it aloud. But she hated not knowing what would happen, and if nothing else, Caleb could help with that.
Only two things held her back: One, he had made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with her or her problems; and two, she wanted way too much to do with him, and that terrified her. She couldn’t forget how he had made her feel. Her body burned for his touch. All she had to do was close her eyes, and he was there in her mind.
So, was she more scared of her feelings for Caleb than she was of turning furry?
Hell, yes!
“I’m not going anywhere near Caleb.”
“Why?” Catrin asked. “I know he c
an help.”
“No. Besides, we don’t know anything about him. We don’t even know what he is. Why he was there that night. We can’t trust him.”
“Him? Or yourself?”
Regan’s eyes narrowed on her sister. “What do you mean?”
Catrin shook her head. “Nothing. How’s your magic?”
“Still shaky, I can’t seem to get a grip on it. It seems to slide away from me.”
Catrin reached out and touched her. “It will come back. Now, we should go to bed. You might not get much sleep tomorrow night.”
“You mean because I might be running around the woods and howling at the moon. Thanks for reminding me.”
“You’d actually forgotten?”
Hell no.
Chapter Six
Caleb had no clue what he was doing here.
He didn’t want to be here, and if he’d had any sense, he would be miles away. Instead, he was standing outside her house like some lovesick idiot.
He leaned against the rough trunk of one of the huge oak trees, arms folded across his chest, and stared at the house. It was a beautiful building—dark stone, thatch, and a host of mullioned windows. Old and sprawling, it appeared as much a part of the landscape as the ancient trees that surrounded it.
Caleb had wandered over every inch of the forest that afternoon, needing to make sure the pack was no longer in the area. He could find no trace. They were gone. Probably back to their usual hunting grounds way up in the north.
He liked the forest—a sense of timeless magic pervaded the place. Normally, he avoided any hint of the supernatural; he’d turned his back on that part of his existence long ago, but this place felt welcoming. It called to something inside him. He also knew it would be the perfect place to shift—he hadn’t seen a single human in all his time here.
He returned to the house as the sun was setting. The building appeared to be in darkness. No hint of light emerged from the many windows. Perhaps Regan had drawn all the curtains, closed the shutters tight, hoping to keep out the full moon. If she believed that, she was in for a bitter disappointment.
She was in there. He could sense her. And the fact that he could sense her was not making him happy. He tried to tell himself he was doing this for Regan’s sisters. The brunette had been a cute little thing. The blonde had seemed …nice. How could three sisters be so different? Neither of them deserved to die at the hands of an out-of-control, newly turned werewolf. From what he’d seen of her, Regan was bitch enough as a human. God knows what she’d be like as a wolf.
He pushed himself up off the trunk and paced. He was lying to himself—the truth was, he needed to see Regan again, hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. The feel of her. The taste of her. She was stuck firmly inside him and wouldn’t be dislodged.
She appeared so tough, so in control. How would she take to losing that control so completely? Maybe he just needed to see her through this first time. Or maybe he needed to have her, just once, and then he’d be able to walk away and forget her.
Tonight, there was a thick layer of cloud cover, and a light drizzle misted the air, but he sensed the exact moment when the moon rose. Something wild welled up inside him, a wave of exhilaration as the adrenalin surged in his veins. Unlike the pack, he’d never had to change at the full moon. Usually, he avoided it, just to prove to himself that he could, and he’d always tried to deny the excitement. But it was there nevertheless. He forced it down and strode across the clearing. At the front door, he raised his fist and banged.
The door flew open. Catrin stood there, panic clear on her face.
“Caleb, thank the Goddess, you’re here.” As she stared up at him, her eyes widened, and he knew his own must have changed.
He pushed past her into the hallway. “Where is she?”
“She made me lock her in the basement. Come on, I’ll take you.”
“Your other sister?”
“Lola’s in her room.”
A shrill scream tore through the building, more animal than human, and Catrin whirled around and raced down the hallway. Caleb followed.
Catrin’s hands were shaking, she couldn’t get the key in the lock, and Caleb took it from her and pushed her gently out of the way. The scream came again, and he quickly unlocked the door. He turned to Catrin. “Go. Join your sister. Lock yourselves in, and don’t come out until morning.”
She nodded, then reached out and rested her hand on his arm. “Look after her, Caleb.”
“I will. Now, go!”
She left, hurrying up the stairs. Halfway up, she paused. “Thank you.” Then she was gone.
Caleb turned back to the door. He opened it cautiously. “Regan?”
No answer.
The door opened onto a narrow staircase. He switched on the light and started down. As he descended, his nostrils filled with the acrid scent of sweat and fear. At the bottom, he looked around. The room was small, about ten feet across, bare walls, no furniture. Regan was huddled in one corner, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her red hair falling forward, hiding her face. He called her name, and her whole body went rigid.
Slowly, she raised her head. Her silver eyes were almost black, wild in her pale face. As she stared at Caleb, a small flicker of humanity broke through, and horror filled her expression. “Get out of here,” she whispered.
“We’re both getting out.” He took a step toward her.
“Can’t. Too dangerous. Get out and lock the door.” Her voice was hoarse and strained, and Caleb knew she hovered on the brink of changing. He stepped closer, and she cringed back against the wall.
“You’ll kill yourself if you change in here,” he said. “You’ll tear yourself apart trying to get out.”
“Doesn’t matter. I won’t hurt anyone else.”
Crouching down beside her, he reached out a hand. She flinched, but he ignored her and stroked the long strands of hair away from her face. “Trust me. I can see you through this.”
“I’ll hurt you.”
“No, you won’t.” He straightened, then leaned down and lifted her in his arms. Her body tensed, and he thought she would fight him. If she did, he’d have to knock her out, but after a few seconds, she relaxed, burrowing her face into his shirt.
She wasn’t light, but he held her trembling body with ease, up the stairs and down the hallway. The front door was open, and he carried her through, kicking the door closed behind him, and headed into the forest.
He glanced back once. Catrin stood silhouetted in one of the first-floor windows, watching them. She raised a hand, and Caleb nodded in return and continued on. He carried Regan a good way from the house. It was raining harder now, and he welcomed the cool drops against his heated skin. His own change was tugging at him, clawing at his belly, all his senses sharply focused. The smells of the forest filled his nostrils: damp leaves, rich soil, and, in the distance, warm prey.
He stopped under a large oak tree. It had a distinctive shape, and he’d noted it earlier—they’d need to find their way back here in the morning. He gently lowered Regan to the ground. Her knees gave way, and she collapsed to the forest floor.
***
Regan lifted her face to the sky. The rain was cool against her burning skin.
“How do you feel?”
She glanced up at the question. Caleb loomed over her, hands thrust in his pockets, staring down, his expression closed, giving nothing away.
She thought about it, searched inside herself. “Better.”
It was true; most of the panic had receded as soon as she was out of the house and into the open air.
“Wolves hate to be trapped,” Caleb said. “Your wolf wanted out of that place.”
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought that was my best bet.”
She still didn’t want to, and while the panic might have receded, she knew this thing wasn’t over. Her skin prickled with energy, tremors rippled up her spine, and her clothes felt too tight. She could sense something alien
inside her, something that wanted out, so it paced the confines of her body, nudging at the edges of her consciousness. She pushed down her fear. She needed to concentrate.
“You won’t,” Caleb said. “There’s no one to hurt out here.” He paused. “Besides, I’ll be with you all the way.”
“You will?”
He nodded, and relief swept over her. She couldn’t understand it. She’d always stood alone. She preferred it that way, but when he reached a hand down to her, she slid her palm into his. A wave of calm washed through her, soothing the worst of her fears.
He pulled her to her feet, then dropped her hand and stepped back.
As she watched, he plucked open the buttons of his shirt and tugged it out of his pants. He shrugged it off and tossed it to the ground, to stand before her bare from the waist up. Raindrops glistened on his broad, powerful chest. His hand went to the waistband of his jeans, and her gaze dropped to follow the movement. He flicked open the button, lowered the zipper, and a jolt of heat fired through her body.
What was he doing taking his clothes off at a time like this?
He glanced up, caught her avid stare, and amusement flashed briefly in his face. “This isn’t a floor show,” he murmured. “You need to undress. That is, if you want anything left of your clothes to put on in the morning.”
Understanding filtered through the strange new sensations crowding her mind. He was a werewolf! She stared at him—why hadn’t she seen it?
When she didn’t move, he raised an eyebrow. “I have seen you naked before.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
He paused his undressing and glanced across at her. “It wasn’t any of your business.”
“And it is now?”
He released his breath in a long sigh. “You know, now really isn’t the time for this conversation.”
She thought about arguing, but he was right. She hated to admit it, but she could sense that time was running out. There would be occasion enough to clear things up—if they survived this night.
When she didn’t speak, he went back to undressing. He tugged off his boots and socks, then hooked his hands in his jeans and pushed them down over his lean hips.