Full Blooded

Page 24

“Jessica, last night you smelled like nothing I’d ever come across before. It set me right off the moment I entered your apartment. It sent my wolf into a bloody frenzy. It was actually hard for me to get you out of my mind so I could sort out the rogue. My wolf paced with a constant need to satisfy you, to comfort you, to enjoy you thoroughly. It was all I could do to keep a rein on things. By the time we had the place to ourselves, your scent intensified by three hundredfold. There was no stopping it.”
I smiled sheepishly. What had happened in the hallway moments prior to entering my apartment must’ve made me smell like a harlot on steroids, but I wasn’t going to go into that here. “I don’t smell like that now, do I?” I asked, a little panicked.
James took a gratuitous sniff even though we both knew he could smell me just fine. “You do smell different than a regular wolf—not bad, mind you, just a bit different. Definitely sweeter. But, no, you don’t smell anything like you did last night. Last night was …” His face hardened. “… Let’s say it was intense. When you give off a smell like that, male wolves will come running. There’s no doubt about it.”
“Danny, Tyler, and Nick didn’t seem to have a similar reaction to me,” I said, feeling a bit stricken that I might be a dinner bell for salivating horny wolves without knowing it. “Maybe you’re just more sensitive to it.”
James laughed. It was a great sound. “Well, I should hope Tyler wouldn’t be feeling very amorous of you. You two are bonded as kin. I’m betting your smell was quite sour to him. I can’t speak for Nick, because he’s not a wolf, but I would actually think you would smell like danger to him in that state. As for Danny, well, your wolf is very dominant, and while he might have liked to act on your scent very much, his wolf wouldn’t have been so bold as to come on to yours directly. He would need permission from you first—some kind of a signal it was okay to make an advance.” There was a slight growl in his voice. “I believe in the future you will only have issues with the most dominant of us.” James regarded me for a moment over his plate of eggs. “The rest will likely be a bit worried.”
As I ate my breakfast, I reflected on how much I didn’t know about wolves. I was a newborn in every sense. “James, can I ask you something else?”
“Of course.”
“How do you mate with human women? Well, I know how you mate, of course, but what about babies? I know it’s hard for humans to carry them to term.” That’s how I lost my own mother. Carrying one wolf was hard, two was impossible. She died shortly after our births, and it was a miracle she’d held on for that long. “That’s why there are so few new wolves around. But if a human woman actually does get pregnant, how does it all work? Especially if you’re not mated. What do you tell them?”
“In the beginning, there’s no need to tell them anything,” he said. “We go on a few dates, woo them if we’re so inclined, go through the process, and then see if we’re lucky enough to procreate when it’s all said and done.”
“That sounds … um … promising.”
James chuckled. “Actually, we have a bit in our saliva that helps keep a woman in the dark if we’re not interested in a longterm commitment. Over time, if we choose to stay with them, or they are carrying our child, their bodies make up antibodies and they become immune to it.”
I choked. “What do you mean by ‘a bit in our saliva’?”
“Our saliva contains a drug to keep them a bit hazy about the whole thing, so they’re not exactly sure if they’ve been with us or not the next morning. It’s necessary, since with emotion our eyes tend to light up; it makes coupling a little tricky.”
“What in the hell”—I coughed, swallowing my eggs wrong—“are you talking about? It sounds like you just said we have roofies built into our saliva.”
“Think about it, Jessica. There are only a few women in the entire world who are compatible with us genetically—who can even be impregnated to begin with. And there are even fewer who are capable of carrying our baby to full term, and even less who can survive the actual birthing. So in order for us to find a woman who meets all those criteria, we have to …” He cleared his throat “… Well, let’s just say it takes a lot of trying on our part.”
I thought about it for a moment. It made sense when he put it like that, but still. “I take it you’ve had a lot of tries over the last few centuries.”
“Yes.”
“What about finding your mate? Wouldn’t that be easier than sleeping with hundreds of women hopped up on roofie-saliva? Aren’t true mates supposed to be able to bear your children with no problems?” I moved over to the sink to rinse my plate.
“That’s what it states in our lore, though I’ve witnessed very few couplings through the centuries.” He sounded suddenly weary. “If each of us waited for our one true mate, we would cease to exist as a race—and we don’t exactly have that luxury. Without offspring, our species will become extinct.”
“A fair enough point.”
“You don’t need a true mate to have tikes,” James said. “You just need a gal who has something lingering in her gene pool from long ago, when villages used to be situated close to Pack boundaries. There were plenty of women back then who could birth strong pups. The lads even stayed with their mums until their adolescence. Then, over time, the lines became diluted as the gene pools spread out. We’ve lost our ability to reproduce easily.” James was deep in thought for a moment. “True mates weren’t as important to us back then. Once a woman had your child, she was considered your mate and you protected her and your son as such.”
Was there a touch of sadness lingering behind that last part? To my knowledge James had never fathered a child, but I wasn’t sure. I’d only been alive for twenty-six years, not the last few hundred. “A true mate is supposed to provide you with more than just a child, though, right? Supposedly compatible to your wolf in all ways. She is able to give you children, but she can also calm a part of your wolf like no other, and from what I understand, she alone can keep you from making a change.”
“Aye. And your wolf, in its true form, is supposed to be able to spot her from a great distance. Your blood sings for her.” James walked to the sink and started to fill the basin. “ ’Tis the rarest gift to receive.”
“My mother wasn’t my father’s true mate, was she?” I’d always wondered but never had the nerve to ask my father. Since I’d never known her, she was only a figment attached to a few photographs. I’d grown up in such a male-dominated world, I’d never had a chance to dwell on it too much. If she had been there, I’d be a much different person than I was today. Maybe I’d be softer. Who knew?
“That wasn’t entirely clear to outsiders, even in the end.” James dipped his hands into the sudsy water he’d drawn and grabbed a dish off the counter. “Callum was crazy for your mum. Followed after her like a lovesick puppy. Though when Annie died in childbirth, he didn’t go through the deep, dark depression they say happens to a wolf when he’s deprived of his mate. He also didn’t end his own life, which is commonly spoken of in the lore. He was already Alpha then, though, and had a pair of twins to look after. Your father has always done things his own way.” That sounded about right. “He’s a man worthy of following. The strongest I’ve ever known.”
James washed the dishes and handed them to me to dry. He’d always been fiercely loyal to my father. He would make a wonderful mate to a female, strong and valiant. I found myself hoping he would find her someday, aching for him to find his happiness.
He caught me staring. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” I glanced at the clock. “We should get going. We don’t want to leave my father waiting.”
“No, Jessica, that wouldn’t be a good idea.”
13
James and I headed out of my apartment together. James discreetly forced my door back into its rightful opening, while I knocked on Juanita’s door. I hadn’t seen her since before my apartment had been trashed, and I was hoping she’d be home. She usually left early for work, so she was probably up.
The door whipped open before I had a chance to knock.
Juanita pulled me into a fierce hug. “Ooooh, Chica! I have been so worried! It es soooo good to see you here in the live.” She pushed me in front of her and then grabbed me back into another bear hug. For a tiny person of roughly five feet two inches—in heels—she was a lot stronger than she looked. I also noted, when she finally let me go for the last time, that her ensemble today consisted of a bright pink sleeveless blouse accentuating her ample breasts, coupled with an orange miniskirt. Her hair and makeup were flawless. Her scent, I quickly found after I separated out the myriad other smells, was equal parts eucalyptus and lime. She smelled tough, and I liked it.
“It’s good to see you too, Juanita,” I told her, stepping out of reach of any more hugs.
She pushed up on tiptoes and glanced over my shoulder. James was still wrestling with the door. “Oooooh, Chica! Muy bien!” She gave me a saucy wink. “I was beginning to worry, you know, when I don’t hear from you.” She bobbed her head toward James and then leaned toward me for a conspiratorial whisper. I obligingly met her halfway. “Es that who you were fighting weeth last night? I hear some noises again coming from jour place.” She laughed and elbowed me in the stomach.
“Um, yes, he’s the one.” What else was I going to say? Nope, it was a scary rogue werewolf trying to kill me?
“I keep jour secret, Chica. You know me, I weel always have jour back. We”—she motioned between the two of us with her cherry red nails—“we have to stay together when the tough get going.”
“That’s great, Juanita. Thanks.” I felt like a chump asking her for a favor when I had so obviously shunned this nice woman’s attempts at friendship over the last few years. “Um, I have a favor to ask you, Juanita, if you don’t mind.”