Wolf at the Door (21 page)

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Authors: MaryJanice Davidson

BOOK: Wolf at the Door
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“You just wait. Once you get me back over there, that vampire’s gonna apolo—ow! No.
No,
” he added firmly, rubbing his now-stinging elbow. “I’m not bending on this one, Rache. You can nibble on me until I’m skeletonized, you’re still taking me over there and introducing me to those knife-wielding psychopaths.
“I mean, how could they? You came in peace, right?
Me
acting like an asshole is one thing; I’ve acted like a true dumb shit this whole time. It’s not a new thing to the world. But they’re supposed to know better. They’re . . . they’re the grownups! And me, I was just...”
He shook his head and ran his hands over her fur again. Then he buried his face against her side. “You’re so beautiful, Rachael. How could I not have seen it? How could I have been such a hateful dumbass?” He thought of the things he’d said earlier and went cold. “Mine was the face to bite off, if anybody deserved having their face bitten off. If you forgave me, it’d be a miracle.”
He sighed into her fur, which smelled like soap and green grass and werewolf, Rachael’s own special smell. “If you forgave me, I’d spend the rest of my life trying to make it right. If you forgave me, I’d never take your good faith for granted. If you could just give me that one chance, Rachael, a chance I’ve done nothing to deserve.” He swallowed a sob and rubbed his eyes, hard. On top of everything else, he wouldn’t subject Rachael to his ongoing immaturity, his babyish lack of control. He didn’t want forgiveness as a result of her pity and his shame.
Lock it back, dumbass.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She only looked at him, then leaned forward and snuffled behind his ear, the exact spot she’d pressed many kisses in the last week. Then she yawned, circled once, and curled up beside him.
And then she went to sleep.
After a few minutes, he said, “It’s wrong to find this anticlimactic, right? Grateful is the emotion I should be going for, right?”
Then he leaned back against the wall and dozed off, his hand resting on her back.
Forty-one
 
Rachael opened her eyes, surprised to find herself a) in her bed, and b) alone. Now last night of all nights, where would Edward—
She heard the door open, heard his light, eager step stop outside her bedroom door. He poked his head in and brightened when he saw her. “You’re awake! And you’re the other you again! Awesome.”
She was startled and touched by
other you
. Many people would have said
back to normal
, and she would not have taken offense. She loved that Edward had so easily grasped that she wasn’t part human and part wolf; she was all Pack. It was a tricky concept for non-Pack to grasp, and the centuries of negative press from fairy tales didn’t help.
“Oh my God,” he said, looking horror-struck. “You’re
awake
. Oh, Rachael, I’m so sor—”
“Shut up now, will you?” she said kindly. From the look of him, Edward had been up most of the night with her. He had that starry-eyed need-a-nap-but-too-keyed-up-to-sleep expression. He had seemed to spend the night waiting for her to do something. All night he’d waited, and there had been no way (beyond the obvious) to tell him that curling up in a hobbit hole listening to crickets and the evening breeze
was
the plan. She believed he’d finally caught on around four o’clock in the morning. “You had cause.”
“I didn’t, Rache. You’re nice to say so, but I absolutely didn’t.” Forgetting he had an armful of grocery bags, he rushed to her side of the bed.
Regret. Regret. Sorrow. Shame.
“I was
such
an asshole.”
“I know you’re sorry, Edward. No need to keep on about it.”
“Mmmm . . . nope.” He appeared to do some sort of inner analyzing. “Nope. I’m still crushed with remorse and feel the need to keep cowering and groveling. Not that you didn’t leave tons of clues, because you did, but you even
told
me (more than once!) and I still took that as my cue to try for Douche Bag of the Year.”
She started laughing at his given title, but he didn’t so much as smile. “For a guy who considered himself open to paranormal shenanigans of any kind, I turned out to be stupidly close-minded.”
“
And
a contender for Douche Bag of the Year,” she teased. His face, pale with tension, suddenly lit, and this time he was laughing with her. “Have you considered where you’re going to display the trophy?”
“I should probably have a case made, huh? Listen, I just got back from Cub Foods . . .” She rose from the bed and padded after him to the kitchen. “You were all out of raw hamburger and milk and Pop-Tarts.”
“I loathe—”
“Yeah, well, they’re for me, so just back off. Also, it’s un-American not to like Pop-Tarts.”
“Why do I hate America?” she mused aloud. “Because I sure do. America and everything she stands for, including Pop-Tarts. Hatred fills me at the mere thought of a chocolate fudge Pop-Tart.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what I’d expect from a Cape Cod liberal pinko werewolf.”
“Hey!”
“You heard me,” he said smugly.
“I’m no pinko, you ape-evolved troglodyte.”
“Hurtful.” He sighed, putting on an expression so pious and sugar-sweet she wondered if he’d have an insulin reaction. “So, so hurtful.” He brightened. “And here! See? I got the seventy-thirty hamburger mix. By the way, the explanation for your unstoppable appetite for everything in the
world
finally occurred to me about four A.M. And again, let me say to myself: duh.”
“And eggs and juice and pork chops,” she said approvingly.
“I didn’t know . . . I thought maybe you’d be pretty hungry once the sun came up.”
She smiled at his anxious expression. “Don’t worry, I hardly ever eat people anymore.”
“Ho-ho-ho. But seriously: please don’t eat people. I figured you’d be hungry.”
“Nope. That Ziploc o’ Meat bag is still holding me. But this was thoughtful . . . I keep telling you, you shouldn’t pay for me to eat. Ever. You realize if you keep it up, you’ll eventually have to take out a loan.”
“I know, now.” He laughed, then tentatively reached for her. “Did anyone ever tell you, you’re gorgeous on all fours?”
“Well, of course
you’d
think so,” she teased, delighted to see him blush. She hadn’t thought he’d flee. Hadn’t
thought
. But there was no way to ever truly know about someone until they were facing what you feared.
“That, yeah, ask me if I think bluff sex could cure all the world’s problems—but I meant—I meant your other self. Those four legs.”
“People have told me that, yes.” She reached up to push his bangs to the side, out of his eyes. “But only other Pack members. You’re the first—I mean, you’re my first—” Now it was her turn to blush.
Fair’s fair,
she thought ruefully. “I’ve never slept with anyone who wasn’t Pack.”
“Ah, but you know the old saying. Once you go off Pack, you can’t wait to head back. No. Wait. That’s not it.” He pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her neck. “Once you renounce the Pack, you have to try out for track? Now that you’ve been exposed to Pack, you’re gonna have to hire yourself a hack? Closer, I think . . .”
She reached down, past the waistband of his shorts, and found him already thickening. “The next time we need a motto, I promise you’ll be the first one we call.” She squeezed gently and heard his soft groan. “The very, very first.”
Lust. Lust. Lust.
“Have I mentioned . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I love your scent.”
“Ummmm . . .”
“I absolutely love it.” Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. He was unzipping his fly to give her more room, but she ignored it. Squeeze. Release. “You know the only thing I like better than how you smell?”
His groan was drawn out and his eyes were rolling up; he tried to speak and could not.
“How you taste.”
Forty-two
 
“What now?”
Rachael stretched beside him. They’d made it back to her bedroom . . . eventually. “Food?”
“I was thinking about the long term.”
“More food?”
He jabbed her in the ribs and she shrieked and jabbed back. “Agh! Yes, yes, we’ll stop by a slaughterhouse on the way to the bluffs and you can gorge until you blow up.”
“Ooooh. Too mean.”
“For reals?” His smile had faded at once as he watched her face.
“No, but . . . borderline. More a girl thing—does this wolf form make my butt look big?—than a Pack thing, though, in your defense.”
“Got it. No more slaughterhouse jokes. Are there any racial slurs I need to be aware of? Wait. Not racial slurs . . . species slurs? Anything I should watch out for?
Hey, wolfie!
Would that be super uncool?”
“Yes, but not for the reason you think.”
“Har-har. You still haven’t answered my question.” He had hopped off the bed and was searching for his underwear. “What now? You know. With us. With this. What’s next for us? As a couple, I mean.” He colored, and she didn’t think he was blushing about putting his Batman boxers back on. “Assuming there’s an us. Y’know, going forward if we’re already an us. But if you didn’t think so, it’s okay.” He was stepping into his jeans and talking faster. “I’m not saying I thought so, or assumed you thought so, but if you did I’d be okay with that.”
She tried not to stare as he babbled, but the man looked like he was only seconds from going up in a blaze of spontaneous combustion. It was impossible
not
to stare.
“If you’re in it just to have a little fun, I wouldn’t . . . I mean, I wouldn’t expect—maybe we should just go our separate ways now. Not that I want to! I’m just okay if you want to.”
“Wow. Shut up now, okay?”
“Yes ma’am.” There was no mistaking the relief in his tone.
“Are you all right? Maybe you should sit down.”
“Now that I’m not trying to think and talk at the same time, it’s safe for both of us.”
“This is new territory for me, too.” One of the places they’d lingered was her little shower, which had been too small to have any serious fun, but large enough for considerable foreplay. So she was clean yet rumpled. Not that snoozing in her hobbit hole would have gotten her paws dirty, but habit was strong.
She found clean panties and, for a wonder, a bra the same color. Rachael had nothing but admiration for women who wore matching underwear, but she had never been up to the strain, not to mention the organizational skills. She opened the closet and pulled out a loose, comfortable linen shift in sky blue.
Something to match blue flats . . .
She pulled the shift over her head. “Some of my girlfriends have dated guys who weren’t Pack, but my cousin Michael is the only one I know who took one to mate.”
“Yeah? Really? Ooh, I love it, Romeo and Juliet as told by the Pack. His family has too many secrets, and her family Just Doesn’t Understand. Together, they—”
“Married quite without problems or interference of any kind, and had two children.”
“Story-wise, it’s pretty dull. But real-life wise, it’s kind of a relief.”
She stepped into the bathroom and grabbed a brush. “Our kind—sorry about the term—our kind don’t have a problem mating with non-Pack. The cubs—excuse me, the
children
of those matings tend to be exceptional. So of course my cousins are.” She grinned as she pulled the brush through her dark locks. “His eldest, Lara, she’ll be our next leader, and she’s already leading the family through all sorts of trials, you wouldn’t even believe it. She’s Michael all over again, really, and karma can be a real bitch. She—”
She glanced at Edward, who was listening with rapt attention. “Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to do the my-niece-is-betterthan-yours thing.”
“Sounds like she is, though! I don’t mind. I’d love to hear about everybody in your family. Although I’m punching Michael in the Adam’s apple when I meet him. Punk’s got a lotta nerve sending you out here like some kind of lycanthropic homing pigeon.
Go here, come there, keep an eye out and make a report
. . . ha!”
“I wouldn’t advise punching Michael anywhere, and my point is, there won’t be a need for any of that you-can’t-stopour-love! nonsense. Assuming we would even need to go there in the first place. Ah, nuts. I said
go there
. That’s officially over now, right? I have to be careful. I don’t want to accidentally revive that stupid, stupid saying . . .”
“Okay, I know I fucked up by assuming you were the undead nemesis of all mankind earlier, but I think I earned a couple of points on the positive side when I didn’t flee screaming into the night once you popped fur, right?”
“Oh my God.”
“Right?”
“
Popped fur?
Really?”
“Shush. But I did, right? You look really, really pretty in that, by the way. Do you have to be somewhere? I’ve never seen you primp. Maybe I should primp.” He widened his eyes and blinked slowly. “You’re getting veerrrry sleepy. You want . . . to have . . . more sex. With me!” He blinked harder and slower.

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