The Reluctant (13 page)

“We are completely human most of the
time.”

“So are the werewolves in the
movies.”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “That word is
offensive here.”

“That proves even more that she should
not be here,” came a voice from behind us. We turned to face the
noxious Anya. “She just told you she doesn’t understand. Obviously,
she is just another stupid human.”

I felt the heat start in my stomach
and work its way to my throat. “I am not stupid,” I
spat.

Anya laughed, but there was no humor
in the sound. “All humans are stupid. That is why you allow
yourselves to be slaughtered like foolish vacas.”

I felt like I would begin steaming in
a moment. “Arrogant polyglot werewolves. You think you’re so much
better than everyone.”

“
We are Lycanthrope,” she
stated. “We are better. We have rights over people like
you.”

I turned to Will, frustrated and
looking for help. His eyes had turned into hardened flakes of
bright green.

“She did not grow up like you,” he
said through gritted teeth. “Neither did I for that matter. Your
father does not grudge us for our previous lives. There’s no need
to be so rude, Anya.”

“There’s every need,” Anya snapped.
“You brought a bag of meat and you didn’t even have the good
manners to kill it first. Now I’ll have to get blood under my
nails.”

With a bellow, Will transformed and
leapt. It happened so quickly, so suddenly, that I did not even
realize that the creature ripping into Anya’s face was him. She
must not have saw it coming either, underestimating his
protectiveness of me, for the only defense she offered was her
inadequate hands. His horrifying, bear-like appearance disturbed
me, especially with a blood-covered snout. A burbling scream came
from the remnants of Anya’s head before he crushed her skull with
his massive jaws. On two legs, hunched over his kill, Will’s
glowing green eyes traveled slowly around the room. Dropping to all
fours, he growled a challenge at the remaining spectators before
returning to my side. I had just seen the quick, merciless attack
of a Slayer.

I looked from him, to the corpse on
the floor, to Raníer. None of the others looked more than
inconvenienced by the body, although a few nostrils quivered at the
scent of blood. My gaze found one young man staring intently at
Anya. I watched his eyes darken with hunger as bits of brain leaked
out of her head. I felt sick. They bits of grey brain looked like
the paté they had served earlier.

“Excuse me,” the young man muttered,
clutching his nose and leaving the room in a hurry.

Raníer’s attitude was different
though. He fixated on Will with those now merciless blue eyes and
growled—a low, deep growl that I felt in my chest from fifteen feet
away. Will answered the challenge with an intense rumble of his
own. I saw Raníer jerk forward, but strong hands of the Mexican
clan held him back. Will held his ground over the
corpse.

I stood transfixed. The tableau in
front of me had started to move again; I could hear the others
start to chatter and shuffle, but my eyes kept straying to Will’s
victim. I’d never seen him kill. The idea was abstract to me. The
Lycanti seemed unmoved by the violence. I, on the other hand, stood
like an extra furnishing in the room, a distasteful piece that no
one knew what to do with, horrified by the blood in the air. They
had pulled a struggling Raníer out of the room, determined to keep
him from Will. After all, this was not Raníer’s clan—it claimed
Will as one of their own, and his mother was one of its elders, one
of greater status than Raníer at any rate.

The conversations bouncing around did
not include me, most were not even in my language, and it would be
a good while before Will Changed back. The dreadfulness was all I
could focus on. I swallowed deeply; the smell of blood overwhelmed
me. I had to leave, had to get away from the stench. Suddenly, Will
licked my hand, and that drew my attention away from the body. He
sat beside me, just as he had stood, my guardian Slayer in a room
full of less-talented killers. He had been trained to kill by one
of the best and for that they kept a respectful distance; the only
one they feared more was Luka.

Then, the tones in the room thickened.
Even the nonchalant observers of Anya’s death became nervous.
People filed out slowly. My translator sat next to me on the floor
as a beautiful brown wolf, so I stood there awkwardly, wondering if
I should follow. Suddenly a woman’s voice called back clearly,
dismissively, “Send someone to clean that up, human.”

Will bristled at my side, but I put my
hand on his head. There had been enough bloodshed that night, and
Luka’s own sister at that! The warm fur felt solid, real,
ludicrously soft on such a beast—almost like the irony of
artistically-cultured killers. With a dry mouth, I suddenly
realized that everyone else in the room had been thinking similar
thoughts of how I would make a better appetizer than guest. Anya
had said it aloud and died for it. My mind wandered back to
California and what action family-rooted Luka would take once he
found out one of his precious sisters had been killed by his best
friend, and could I stop him if he came for my Will?

Will

I remember when my mother used to take
me swimming at the public pool. Maria is a beautiful woman and men
usually fall over themselves trying to impress her. Of course they
do not realize that she can practically control them with the
chemicals of her body without her beauty. She would flirt with
them, taking them home with us sometimes, only to use them and cast
them aside. I understand now why she never got close to any of
them, but as a boy, I wanted a father. I wanted someone who would
play football with me and teach me to shave. I wanted to be a man,
and I felt that a woman could teach me nothing about my role in
life.

I never wondered why she didn’t have
to work. I took it for granted that my mother was home when I
needed her and she always would be. The Clan sent her money to live
and for my school. Cerritos charged a hefty tuition, but once
again, as a sheltered child, I had no idea of these things. I knew
that I was loved and protected, and that we went to Mexico once a
year and that still, after all these years, I had no
father.

Will you remarry? I continually asked
her. She always told me no.

A year after high school, she summoned
me to Mexico for her second Bonding. I had to watch as a man took
my mother as his own. A bit Oedipal, but beautiful nonetheless. You
pledge yourself with a blood oath; there is nothing stronger in our
world, for if you break it, the Clan will hunt you. I know you must
think that they send Luka and me to hunt down our own family for
the thrill of it, but that is not true. Lycanthrope are actually
very loyal creatures, loving intensely for many years. Clan
marriages are generally for life. The Lycanti are the ones who
throw the balance off. They are never satisfied. Perhaps this does
not bode well for our relationship, but I think that you and I are
devoted enough to one another to overcome that
recklessness.

My mother’s second Bonded was Lycanti.
She Changed him, just as she did my father, but he took another
lover. A woman may not crave another man while she is mated to him,
but a man has no such restrictions. And Lycanti, especially, tend
to lack the loyalty of the Lycanthrope. Sadly, it is a quality lost
in the Change for most. But some Lycanthrope like my mother remain
desperately steadfast, and in her case, possessive. I must admit
that I feel that way over you sometimes, especially when I see you
so at ease with Luka, but seeing the misery it has brought to my
mother makes me want for you and Luka to be friends even more. You
deserve such a good friend, especially someone as trustworthy as
Luka.

When the Lycanti’s interest strayed
less than a week after the marriage, she needed no help from me to
hunt him. She has made it to her age for a reason: she is deadly
when provoked. She might have killed my father in a mating by
accident, but when she finished with the deceitful Lycanti, he
could not be claimed as wolf or human.

So we will go to Mexico to honor her
Bonding, but I fear for her new husband. She seems to have horrible
and transient taste in men. I am encouraged only by the fact that
this new one is Lycanthrope. He will be able to control his
passions better than her previous husband.

And you need to see it, to see the
love and trust that exists between a Bonded couple. Even I need to
see it, so that I will know how to treat you that night.

Emily

“
Stay here,” Will said,
grabbing his light jacket. “I’m going to see my mother to wish her
well and ask her about your Change. We’ll leave tonight if we
can.”

For once, I did not argue with his
reference to something I did not want, so thankful was I that we
might actually leave soon.

“Don’t leave me here,” I begged.
“Raníer is pissed!”

Will shook his head. “Even so, he
won’t come for you, baby.”

The implications of that statement hit
me hard. “But if you don’t come back, Will, think about what would
happen to me.”

That made him pause. Every movement
became tense and worried.

“Please, Will?” I allowed a bit of
desperation to leak into my voice.

He considered for a long moment; I
could practically see the wheels moving behind his eyes.

“No,” he said halfheartedly. “I can’t
take you. Trust me. I will come back to you.”

And I did trust him, damn it. That
would be my downfall. I trusted him implicitly and without
question. He kissed me hard then. As he pulled back he looked at me
as if he would never see me again.

“I love you, Emily.”

I looked up like a startled doe. I
felt dizzy. No man had ever said those words to me with such
passion. I could not even return the sentiments due to being so
overwhelmed.

He smiled at my reaction, obviously
pleased by it. He kissed me swiftly on the cheek and left the hotel
room in a hurry, as if the electricity between us would be stifled
if he stayed and pursued it. Cool relief swept over my body. Too
many emotions had pounded through me that day, and I was truly
exhausted. Maybe it was a good thing Will left for a while and we
weren’t staying in his mother’s huge house, though she had
insisted. I could get some sleep without being worried about ending
up as a side item served with red wine and a nice, brisk
salad.

I showered and dozed off in the
king-sized bed, too tired to even dress. Let Will take me when he
gets back, I thought drowsily. At least he would hold me
afterwards, and for that, I would suffer through most
anything.

I awoke to the lamp clicking on beside
the bed.

“Will!” I exclaimed. “Trying to sleep
here? Yeah?”

“Not anymore.”

I flew to the other side of the bed at
that voice, pulling the comforter on the bed up over my body. That
was not my Will speaking; a man unknown to me stood there. But his
eyes gave him away—bright blue and radiant with lust. Not Raníer.
This man was young and strapping, just as huge and just as dark as
Luka. But Luka had no brothers. He had to be of that clan though.
That much I knew from my limited knowledge of
werewolves.

“Get out,” I demanded
roughly.

He smiled, a debonair smile that would
have won any number of hearts from girls my age. I wanted to break
his teeth. That’s how angry I was at this intrusion without Will
here. Unfortunately, this was a hotel room, not an army locker, and
I was ill-equipped to tackle this stranger.

The man threw a red flannel nightgown
with long sleeves at me. It floated through the air like a red
wraith and landed on the bed.

“Who the hell do you think I am?” I
snapped. “Little Red Riding Hood?” The day had left me exhausted
and I had no desire to look like a dowdy holiday fruitcake at the
end of it, or be gawked at by this man in said fruitcake
mould.

“My uncle thought it would be amusing
for you to know how it feels to be pursued by wolves and wanted you
dressed appropriately. And actually Mistress Red,” he replied with
a wicked chuckle, “with your prudish attitude and the somber cut of
that gown you’ll soon be wearing, you’re more likely to be mistaken
for the grandmother.”

He moved closer to me as he spoke,
staring unabashedly at my body’s curves through the soft fold of
the comforter. I hugged my arms around my breasts to tighten the
cloth, but his gaze just kept working its way down my body. I must
have looked ridiculous with the bed cover draped over me, and my
face flushed with anger.

“Don’t look at me. Get
out.”

He did not respond to me or even seem
bothered by the attempted veiling of my body. Instead of complying
with my demand, he circled around to the back of me, so close that
I could feel his chest bump my shoulder blades every time he
exhaled breath over the skin of my neck. I was boxed in by the bed
and the wall and tangled in the covers. I could barely move. He
pulled my damp hair back over a shoulder and leaned his face in
closer.

“At least in this tale the wolf always
has the same part,” he said, his lips brushing the curve of my
neck.