Desired by the Wolf Box Set Page 7

  "How important?" she countered.

  "Did your brother tell you what his police friends found in the vial?" he asked her.

  She tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow. "How do you know about the vial?" she wondered. Stan told her he'd snuck it out.

  "Did he?" Nick persisted.

  "Yeah, why?"

  "What I have to say concerns that, and you."

  She wasn't liking the direction this was going. "Nick, if something's wrong then just spit it out."

  He glanced over his right shoulder at Godding's house. "Not here in the open. There's too many eyes and ears," he commented.

  Lenore reluctantly stepped aside. He hurried into the house and stopped a few yards from the door which she shut after him. "You're being even more secretive than usual," she pointed out.

  "Being secretive has kept me alive for a long time. So long that it's become habit." He turned to her and she gasped when she saw his eyes were a bright yellow color. "I never thought I'd share this secret with anyone else, but you changed my mind."

  Lenore whirled around and yanked on the door, but he was too fast. He swiftly came up behind her and slammed it shut. She dove under his arm and ran toward the kitchen, but he caught her arm and pulled her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side and her body agianst him. She squirmed and growled, but her efforts failed to free her.

  "Let me go!" she demanded.

  "Not until you here what I have to say. Then you can decide whether or not you have the right to kill me," he insisted.

  Lenore paused and glanced up at him. "Kill you? What the hell are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about yesterday and your accident. Your brother was right when he told you I gave you something to make you better," he admitted.

  Lenore stiffened and her heart beat furiously in her chest. "What did you give me?" she asked him.

  "My blood."

  The color drained from Lenore's face and she alternated between the options of throwing up and eating a bar of soap. "What the hell did you give me that for?" she questioned him.

  "Because otherwise you would have died, and I didn't want that. Not when I could do something about it," he replied.

  "So you gave me your blood and it what? Made me all better?" she scoffed.

  "It healed your external and internal wounds, but there's a price to pay for saving your life," he told her.

  She leaned away from this man who was so obviously insane. "Whatever you're on I don't want any, but I would really appreciate if you let me go so I can call the cops," she requested.

  A bitter smile slid onto his lips. "You don't believe me. I wouldn't, either, if I were you, but it's the truth. The blood Stan wiped away on your arms and face were from the gashes caused by the pavement and gravel. Your breathing told me there were more serious internal injuries. All I could think about was saving you, and that's why I did it."

  "Give me your blood?" she guessed.

  "Yes, and changed you into a werewolf."

  Lenore blinked. "You're insane, aren't you? That's why you don't have a beautiful trophy girlfriend, isn't it?"

  It was Nick's turn to blink, and a moment later he burst out laughing. Lenore took advantage of his distraction to jab her elbow backwards into his side. He gasped and his arms slipped. She hurried forward and toward the sliding glass door beyond her rear living room. She rushed around the couch, but Nick leapt over and cleared the couch and the coffee table in front of it. He landed between her and the glass, and held his arms out on either side of him.

  "I can't let you leave until I've convinced you I'm not insane," he insisted.

  She backed up and scowled at him. "I'm going to leave anyway," she argued.

  "The park," he told her.

  Lenore paused and furrowed her brow. "Huh?"

  "You leapt down from your bedroom window and followed a scent to the park last night. Am I right?"

  She slowly shook her head. "No, that was just a dream. I dreamed that." She turned and tried to flee, but he caught her wrist and held her in place. She didn't turn to look at him, and her body trembled.

  "You know it's the truth. You know you changed into a wolf creature and followed the trail to the park. My trail," he insisted.

  Lenore froze and slowly turned her head toward him. "Your trail?" she repeated.

  He nodded. "My trail," he repeated. "I was the one you met at the park." A humorless smile slid onto his lips. "We did have a date scheduled," he pointed out.

  Lenore's legs buckled and she would have fallen if he hadn't caught her. He helped her over to the couch where she sat down in a half-stupor. "It can't be. None of that was real. I fell asleep and dreamed it all," she whispered.

  Nick seated himself by her side and clasped her hands in his. "You didn't dream any of it. You changed into a werewolf and followed me to the park."

  Her eyes widened and she slipped her hands out of his. "Where we-"

  "-mated. Afterward, I returned you to your bedroom and threw away your ruined clothes," he finished.

  Lenore leaned forward and clutched her head in her hands. "This can't be happening. Please tell me this is some sort of a sick joke."

  Nick looked sadly on the distraught woman. "I wish I could, but the truth-"

  "Maybe I can't handle the truth, okay?" she shouted. She whipped her head up and glared at him. "Maybe I don't want to believe what you're telling me. What then?"

  "The truth will come to you whether you want it to or not. It's your choice to accept it and deal with it, or reject it and learn the hard way," he told her.

  She jumped to her feet and paced the floor in front of the coffee table. "You're telling me that I'm a werewolf and that I should just accept that? Heck no!"

  "It's the truth," he persisted.

  Lenore stopped and spun around to face him. "Prove it."

  Nick sighed and stood. "I will, but promise not to scream."

  She folded her arms and scowled at him. "Just prove it."

  "Very well."

  Lenore's eyes widened when fur sprouted from Nick's face. The color in his eyes darkened, and his dark hair spilled over his back. His lips pulled back and revealed long, sharp fangs. The tips of his ears sharpened to points and his fingers elongated into claws. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell into a dead faint.

  The next Lenore knew was someone sticking something nasty-smelling against her nostrils. It smelled of three-day old fish or overstayed guests. She coughed and pushed it away, but they shoved it back. Lenore opened her eyes and found herself on her living room floor with Nick knelt beside her. In his hands was a vial, and the horrid smell emanated from the glass container.

  "What's in that stuff? Incense of death?" she choked out.

  "Wolf's bane, actually. It repels our kind with its scent," he replied. He corked the bottle and helped her sit up. "And I thought I made you promise not to faint."

  "It was screaming," she reminded him. She clutched her head in one hand and fought off the dizziness. Memories of her reason for fainting rushed back, and she whipped her head up to Nick. His face was clean-shaven and his eyes were their normal color. "Did I just imagine-"

  "Me turning into a werewolf? No, that was real," he told her.

  She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. "Then I'm really a werewolf?" she whispered.

  "You're really a werewolf," he softly replied.

  Lenore burst into tears. Nick wrapped his arms around her and she clutched his shirt. He could barely understand her through her blubbering. "Why did you do this to me? What did I ever do to you?" she sobbed.

  "It's not so bad," he consoled her. A mischievous smile slipped onto his lips. "The fleas are a little annoying, but you get used to them." His joke only made her cry harder and louder. He sighed and pulled her to arm's length. Her bleary red eyes stared back at him with fear and confusion. "I know you're frightened. I was, too, when I changed, but you have one very import
ant asset at your disposal."

  She sniffled. "What's that?"

  He grinned and straightened. "Me."

  Chapter 13

  Lenore frowned, but her tears flowed less. "But you're the one who did this to me," she reminded him.

  "And I will be the one to make this change as painless as possible," he promised.

  "But I don't want this change to happen at all," she protested.

  "As much as we wish we could turn back time the clocks on that face don't go in reverse," he told her.

  Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled back in a snarl. He detected a hint of yellow in the depths of her eyes that warned him something bad was about to happen. "First you give me your blood knowing it would make me a werewolf-"

  "-to save your life," he reminded her.

  "-and now you're spouting off wisdom as if I'm supposed to just accept this and welcome my new life with you with open arms?"

  "That was my hope, yes," he admitted. Lenore let out a roar and pounced on him. Her weight pushed him to the floor. He grabbed her wrists and noticed her fingers end in long, talon-like claws. "Get a hold of yourself!" he yelled at her.

  "You said I could kill you!" she snapped. She straddled him and tried to grab his neck.

  "But you need me!" he told her.

  "I need you to let me strangle you!" she growled.

  Nick rolled over and their positions were reversed. He straddled her and pressed her wrists on the floor above her head. He leaned forward so their noses nearly brushed against each other. A sly grin slipped onto his face. "This reminds me of last night," he commented.

  "Does this?" she growled. Lenore shoved her knee upward and hit him in the groin. Nick's eyes widened and he tilted over clutching at the family jewels. Lenore jumped on him and got in a few nice punches before he recovered enough to snatch her wrists. He stood and dragged her thrashing and kicking to her feet. His eyes were yellow and his mouth was set in a firm line.

  "That's quite enough," he growled.

  Lenore shoved her face into his and glared at him. "I haven't even started," she replied.

  Nick was out of breath, so he shook his head. "But I'm finished." He pushed her backward and she bounced onto the couch cushions. Lenore sprung up only to have him push her back down. "This is getting us nowhere," he told her.

  "It's getting me revenge," Lenore shot back.

  "Revenge won't help you adapt to this new life, but I will," he argued. Lenore tilted her lips back in a snarl, but turned her head away. Nick sighed and plopped down on the cushion beside her. "I would be very angry with myself if I were in your position-"

  "But you're not," she pointed out.

  "No, I'm not, and that's why I need to offer myself to you as compensation," he told her.

  Lenore couldn't help her roving eyes as they flickered over to him. He wasn't a bad package deal. She steeled herself against her feminine glee and crossed her arms. "I still won't accept your apology."

  "And I'm not asking you to, but at least accept my help." He gently lay a hand on her leg and stared into her angry face. "Please."

  Lenore turned away and her mind worked at some witty remark. She had nothing but the fear and anger inside of her, and they weren't offering to help like Nick was. "How. . .how bad is this going to effect me?" She glanced at him. "Am I going to change every full moon?"

  Nick smiled and shook his head. "The full moon does make the change more likely, but the change happened last night because you were-well, in need of the opposite sex."

  Lenore face twisted into disbelief. "You're saying that I changed into an animal because I wanted sex?"

  "Not in those words, but yes," he agreed.

  Lenore faced straight ahead and her eye twitched. "So every time I watch a steamy romance I'm going to need a miniature lawn mower to shave my legs?"

  Nick coughed and did a poor job of hiding his grin beneath his pursed lips. "You can control it, as I showed you earlier," he told her.

  "What about this craving for raw meat? Earlier today I wanted to clean out the meat section," she asked him.

  "That will take some time, but it can also be controlled," he assured her.

  Lenore pressed her legs against her chest and set her head on her knees. "You make this sound as easy as setting up a TV, but it's more like programming a VCR, isn't it?"

  "Unfortunately, that is a better analogy," he admitted.

  She whipped her head toward him. "Thanks. That really makes me feel better," she growled.

  "I wanted to give you the truth," he defended himself.

  "Right now I can only handle one truth at a time. That's that I'm a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that truth is going to take up the rest of the day, so I want lies, and lots of them," she replied.

  He snorted. "Where would you like me to start?"

  "First tell me that there's a cure to this," she commanded.

  Nick's face fell and he sighed. "If I knew of one then we wouldn't be having this conversation."

  She raised an eyebrow. "What conversation would we be having?" she wondered.

  Nick slid down on one knee onto the floor in front of her and grasped one of her hands in his. "I would be asking you to be my wife instead of my mate."

  "Mate?" she repeated.

  "The technical term for the spouse of a werewolf. I am your mate, and you are mine," he explained.

  She furrowed her brow. "Is this something that happens automatically, or do I get a say?"

  "Well, it's generally accepted that when a male chooses a human female to be a werewolf they are mates," he replied.

  Lenore frowned and pulled her hand out. "I'd like a vote in this matter, and don't try to pull that patriarchal dictatorship stuff on me. I might be a new werewolf, but I'm an old woman and this old woman isn't going to be anybody's mate until she decides on the he-wolf for her."

  Nick's face fell and his eyes took on the brownish hue of puppy-dogs "And I'm not this he-wolf?" he wondered.

  Lenore clung on to the anger in her heart, but his sad face defrosted her semi-frozen heart. She sighed and leaned back against the couch. "All right, I'll be your mate, but only if you be a good boy and answer all of my questions truthfully."

  He grinned. "But I thought you couldn't handle any more truths," he playfully reminded her.

  "I can change my mind. It's one of those conditions men have to put up with if they're going to be mated to a woman," she told him.

  Nick took her hand and planted a chaste kiss on her palm. She blushed and he released her hand. "I would gladly put up with more to be your mate," he replied.

  She snorted. "Be careful what you wish for, but let's get down to this furry business. I want to know the how, what, when, where, why, and who of werewolf-ism."

  He blinked. "Could you be more specific?" he asked her.

  "First off, how did this happen? How are people able to become wolves?" she wondered.

  Nick sighed and slid onto the couch beside her. "Do you want the long or the short story?"

  "How short's the short story?"

  "I don't know."

  "Why don't you know?"

  "No, that's the short story. I don't have an answer to your question. I only know that a hundred years ago I was bitten by a wolf and changed into one myself."

  Lenore blinked. "Does being a werewolf mean losing the ability to do math?"

  "No, why?"

  "Because you just said one hundred years."

  "That's true, unless you want me to lie."

  She tilted her head to one side. "One hundred years?"

  He smiled and bowed his head. "Yes."

  "So that makes you-?"

  "One hundred and thirty come this October seventeenth," he replied.

  "So you're old enough to be my great-great grandfather?"

  "Yes, but I would rather you not treat me like your grandfather any more than your brother," he requested.

  "One hundred and thirty," she whispered. She looked him up and down. "Face-li
ft?" she guessed.

  Nick chuckled. "No, lycanthropy."

  "Gesundheit."

  "No, lycanthropy is the scientific term for werewolf-ism. It seems being split between two bodies causes you to age very slowly," he told her.

  "Let me get this straight. One hundred years ago you got bit by a wolf and became a werewolf. Right?"

  "Correct, but I would have embellished the story with a little more excitement." He raised himself onto the coffee table in front of her and gestured to his abdomen. "That was the incident I told you about where I received this scar."

  "Then the wolf you fought-"

  "-was the werewolf that changed me, though I think their intent was not to make a mate so much as make a meal," he commented.

  "So what exactly happened? You were riding along in your horse-and-buggy when it happened?" she teased.

  He chuckled. "Not quite. I had a small homestead in the wilds of the west. At that time the trees were thicker than the hairs on our bodies and the nearest town was ten miles away. There were a few cabins stretched between mine and the town where I could find company on some of those lonely nights."

  "What were you doing out in the middle of nowhere?" she asked him.

  "Trapping. The beaver were still plentiful then and if you were willing to risk the lonely life you could find a year's wages in a few months."

  Lenore furrowed her brow. "What were you doing out in the middle of the woods trapping beavers? Didn't you have a sweetheart or family?"

  "I once had a fiance, but she died of typhoid while on the trail to Oregon."

  She cringed. "And here I thought that was just a game."

  "It was all very real to me, as was my decision to live alone as a trapper."

  "So you were trapping beaver when a werewolf decided to trap you?" she guessed.

  "Not quite. One day a stranger came by my cabin and asked about the people in the area. I told him there weren't many and he asked if he could stay the night. I had enough provisions for two, so I accepted the company. He proved to be a poor talker, though, and went to bed just after sunset. There was a full moon that night so I decided to go check a few of my traps. I slung my gun over my shoulder and walked out. I was north of my homestead when the stranger found me. I was bent over one of the empty traps setting it near the beaver stream when I heard a twig snap behind me. I turned to find him standing over me with yellow eyes."

  "And then he pounced?" she interrupted him.

  "Would you like to tell the story?" he questioned her.

  She frowned. "It would have made a better story if he'd just pounced," she grumbled.