Kitty and the Silver Bullet
Page 4
He gave a grim smile. He was starting to understand.
Our territory was in the foothills of southern Colorado. Three hours of driving brought us to a remote national forest area. No camping allowed out here, no stray hikers to worry about. We'd be isolated.
We arrived and sat in the car.
"You're still looking off," Ben said again.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You don't—" He paused, pursing his lips, clearly uncomfortable. "You don't smell right."
I stared at him. "I don't smell right?"
"I don't know, I can't explain it. You just smell off. Never mind."
Great. Now I smelled off. I grumbled, "I'm just tired."
"Even now?"
Now, full moon night, was when the other halves of our beings had their time. The wolves got to run, and they tore to the surface with all the power of the wild creatures they were. It felt like getting drunk, like being high, and however much we said we hated it, we couldn't wait to run out there and Change. The Change drew us.
I felt sluggish.
"I'm okay," I said. "Let's get this over with."
We left the car and hiked into wilderness.
Ben was getting good at controlling his wolf. This was his fifth full moon. He could make it from the car to the woods without losing it and sprouting claws. Almost, he could hide any sign that he was about to shift. But I could tell: his heart rate was too fast, and he was sweating.
We had a den, a sheltered place to keep us out of sight, warm and safe. We stripped and stashed our clothes: shirts, jeans, and shoes. The moon was rising, bright enough to cast shadows through the woods.
Ben looked out into those trees, his breath fogging a little in the cool air. I moved around him, touched his arm, slid my hand across his shoulders. He was pale in the moonlight. His skin was hot; he shivered under my touch. He turned and bent his head to me, kissed my ear, my neck, nuzzling. I pressed myself against him. Naked in the woods, bathed in moonlight, every nerve charged with feeling—this was Wolf's time. I began to see him through Wolf's eyes, fierce and full of life.
He breathed by my ear, "You first this time. I want to watch you."
I smelled him: skin and sweat, pheromones, desire, need. "You'll be okay?"
"I think so."
I'd always waited, making sure Ben was okay while he shifted. Comforted him. He probably didn't need supervising—it was for my own peace of mind. Our wolves called to each other—they wanted to shift together. Could he keep it together while watching me?
Maybe he just wanted to see if he could keep it together.
"Okay," I said softly. I kissed him; he kissed back hungrily, but I pulled away—teasing. I couldn't help it. It was her, the Wolf, daring him to chase her. She felt his need and stoked the fire.
I backed away, step by slow step. I was so hot, had so much energy tied up in a knot in my gut I could have screamed. It scratched at my skin, fighting to get out. All I had to do was breathe out, let go, and it would tear out of me. I held Ben's gaze. He crouched, his hands clenched into fists, his breathing coming too fast. But his gaze was steady.
All at once I released it, bent my head, doubled over, and as the veil slipped my vision blackened.
Shakes out her fur, and every hair is charged, sparking. Coils her muscles, ready to run—she trots in place, a spring and a jump, raises her head, and meets the gaze of the one she travels with, the pale figure watching her with wide eyes.
Here is her mate—still on two legs. She gives a little whine, a short bark, calling to him.
"God, look at you. You're amazing."
She trots forward, nudges him. He reaches for her, rubbing the not-paws along her coat. The stroking is both odd and pleasurable. She squirms away, whines again—now, it's time, come now—
And so he does, doubling over, groaning, and the sound changes, becomes less wrong and more right, until it is ahowl, and she joins in, filling the woods with their song. He gasps a little, still not used to his legs and fur and voice. Still a pup, but stronger every time. All her hopes and desire and power go out to him—they rule these woods together. She greets him, licks him, nips him, lets him do the same to her, they writhe around each other, a tangle of fur and muscled bodies.
Then he launches into the forest. It's a surprise—he leads the chase this time. She has to scramble to keep up. They hunt, nose to the ground, following the zigzag patterns of their prey.
He's the one who finds the deer, a small one but large enough to feast on, upwind so it hasn't sensed them. Together they pause. Can they do it? They've never hunted anything so large together. He is eager, he's tasted blood, has hunted it, and the lust of it fills him because before anything else they are hunters. He makes a frustrated whine, because she hesitates. He wants to leap at it, tear into its haunches, bring it down. Together they can, one at its haunches, one at its throat. She knows this, can see the image in her mind. His limbs are trembling, he wants so badly to chase it down.
But she holds back.
Then it's gone. Raising its head, twitching its ears, it senses something that makes it run, leaping around trees and bushes. Too much work to chase it down now.
He shakes himself, scratches the dirt in frustration, pins his ears at her. She snaps at him and trots away, in search of some easier creature that she can catch with little effort.
In a moment he follows, because they're pack, and they hunt together. Rabbit instead of deer, but blood is blood in the end.
Chapter 2
I didn't feel good.
I never felt great after a full moon night, but that not feeling good was like a hangover after a party. You suffered and didn't complain, because you'd had your fun and this was the price. Rather, the Wolf had her fun and left me to deal with the consequences.
But right now, I really didn't feel good. I felt sick, which was weird, because I hadn't been sick since becoming a werewolf. The same thing that made me a werewolf made me immune. Indestructible, almost. I curled up on my side, holding my stomach, which churned with cramps. No, it wasn't my stomach, it was lower than that. Deeper. Like menstrual cramps, but I'd never had them this bad. My insides felt like they were grinding themselves up.
"What's wrong?" Ben shifted behind me, where he'd been nestled asleep. He propped himself on an elbow and kissed my shoulder.
I must have let out a groan or something. "I don't feel good."
Our territory was in the foothills of southern Colorado. Three hours of driving brought us to a remote national forest area. No camping allowed out here, no stray hikers to worry about. We'd be isolated.
We arrived and sat in the car.
"You're still looking off," Ben said again.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You don't—" He paused, pursing his lips, clearly uncomfortable. "You don't smell right."
I stared at him. "I don't smell right?"
"I don't know, I can't explain it. You just smell off. Never mind."
Great. Now I smelled off. I grumbled, "I'm just tired."
"Even now?"
Now, full moon night, was when the other halves of our beings had their time. The wolves got to run, and they tore to the surface with all the power of the wild creatures they were. It felt like getting drunk, like being high, and however much we said we hated it, we couldn't wait to run out there and Change. The Change drew us.
I felt sluggish.
"I'm okay," I said. "Let's get this over with."
We left the car and hiked into wilderness.
Ben was getting good at controlling his wolf. This was his fifth full moon. He could make it from the car to the woods without losing it and sprouting claws. Almost, he could hide any sign that he was about to shift. But I could tell: his heart rate was too fast, and he was sweating.
We had a den, a sheltered place to keep us out of sight, warm and safe. We stripped and stashed our clothes: shirts, jeans, and shoes. The moon was rising, bright enough to cast shadows through the woods.
Ben looked out into those trees, his breath fogging a little in the cool air. I moved around him, touched his arm, slid my hand across his shoulders. He was pale in the moonlight. His skin was hot; he shivered under my touch. He turned and bent his head to me, kissed my ear, my neck, nuzzling. I pressed myself against him. Naked in the woods, bathed in moonlight, every nerve charged with feeling—this was Wolf's time. I began to see him through Wolf's eyes, fierce and full of life.
He breathed by my ear, "You first this time. I want to watch you."
I smelled him: skin and sweat, pheromones, desire, need. "You'll be okay?"
"I think so."
I'd always waited, making sure Ben was okay while he shifted. Comforted him. He probably didn't need supervising—it was for my own peace of mind. Our wolves called to each other—they wanted to shift together. Could he keep it together while watching me?
Maybe he just wanted to see if he could keep it together.
"Okay," I said softly. I kissed him; he kissed back hungrily, but I pulled away—teasing. I couldn't help it. It was her, the Wolf, daring him to chase her. She felt his need and stoked the fire.
I backed away, step by slow step. I was so hot, had so much energy tied up in a knot in my gut I could have screamed. It scratched at my skin, fighting to get out. All I had to do was breathe out, let go, and it would tear out of me. I held Ben's gaze. He crouched, his hands clenched into fists, his breathing coming too fast. But his gaze was steady.
All at once I released it, bent my head, doubled over, and as the veil slipped my vision blackened.
Shakes out her fur, and every hair is charged, sparking. Coils her muscles, ready to run—she trots in place, a spring and a jump, raises her head, and meets the gaze of the one she travels with, the pale figure watching her with wide eyes.
Here is her mate—still on two legs. She gives a little whine, a short bark, calling to him.
"God, look at you. You're amazing."
She trots forward, nudges him. He reaches for her, rubbing the not-paws along her coat. The stroking is both odd and pleasurable. She squirms away, whines again—now, it's time, come now—
And so he does, doubling over, groaning, and the sound changes, becomes less wrong and more right, until it is ahowl, and she joins in, filling the woods with their song. He gasps a little, still not used to his legs and fur and voice. Still a pup, but stronger every time. All her hopes and desire and power go out to him—they rule these woods together. She greets him, licks him, nips him, lets him do the same to her, they writhe around each other, a tangle of fur and muscled bodies.
Then he launches into the forest. It's a surprise—he leads the chase this time. She has to scramble to keep up. They hunt, nose to the ground, following the zigzag patterns of their prey.
He's the one who finds the deer, a small one but large enough to feast on, upwind so it hasn't sensed them. Together they pause. Can they do it? They've never hunted anything so large together. He is eager, he's tasted blood, has hunted it, and the lust of it fills him because before anything else they are hunters. He makes a frustrated whine, because she hesitates. He wants to leap at it, tear into its haunches, bring it down. Together they can, one at its haunches, one at its throat. She knows this, can see the image in her mind. His limbs are trembling, he wants so badly to chase it down.
But she holds back.
Then it's gone. Raising its head, twitching its ears, it senses something that makes it run, leaping around trees and bushes. Too much work to chase it down now.
He shakes himself, scratches the dirt in frustration, pins his ears at her. She snaps at him and trots away, in search of some easier creature that she can catch with little effort.
In a moment he follows, because they're pack, and they hunt together. Rabbit instead of deer, but blood is blood in the end.
Chapter 2
I didn't feel good.
I never felt great after a full moon night, but that not feeling good was like a hangover after a party. You suffered and didn't complain, because you'd had your fun and this was the price. Rather, the Wolf had her fun and left me to deal with the consequences.
But right now, I really didn't feel good. I felt sick, which was weird, because I hadn't been sick since becoming a werewolf. The same thing that made me a werewolf made me immune. Indestructible, almost. I curled up on my side, holding my stomach, which churned with cramps. No, it wasn't my stomach, it was lower than that. Deeper. Like menstrual cramps, but I'd never had them this bad. My insides felt like they were grinding themselves up.
"What's wrong?" Ben shifted behind me, where he'd been nestled asleep. He propped himself on an elbow and kissed my shoulder.
I must have let out a groan or something. "I don't feel good."
