Desired by the Wolf Box Set (BBW Werewolf / Shifter Romance) Page 8

  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-lift?” 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.

  “I asked him what he was doing out here, and then he pounced.” Lenore glared at him, and Nick grinned back and continued. “I wasn’t a werewolf yet, but I could see this man meant trouble and threw the trap at him. It broke in his face, but hardly slowed him down. At that point he was half transformed and as I tried to stand one of his claws swiped my stomach. It was a deep cut and I fell into the shallow edge of the stream. He jumped in after me, but I rolled away and grabbed my gun. The first bullet fired, but the other cartridges were soaked from the stream. They wouldn’t fire. The single bullet tore through his gut, but he only howled in pain and dove at me. I’d never seen anything so fierce. Not even the bears fought like he did. He got off a few bites and scratches before I slammed the silver butt of my rifle into his face.”

  “Silver butt? Isn’t that a little expensive for a beaver trap to have?” she pointed out.

  He smiled. “Living in the woods without anyone you spend your money where it would help you the most. A good rifle is worth its weight in gold,” he argued.

  “Or in this case silver,” she added.

  “Yes, and it did save my life. The silver burned his face and he stumbled off me clutching his head. I knocked him down and didn’t let up the beating until I noticed he was changing back into a human.” Nick closed his eyes and shuddered. “I’d killed him and become what I am.”

  Chapter 14

  “It sounds like a clear case of self-defense,” she argued.

  He shook his head. “That hardly comforted me.�
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  “What did you do after you killed the werewolf?” she asked him.

  “Nothing. I collapsed. I woke up after sunrise with my wounds healed, but I was left with the scar from my encounter. The stranger’s body lay nearby, and I quickly buried the thing and hurried back to my cabin.”

  “So you didn’t go to town or another cabin because they wouldn’t have believe you?” she surmised.

  Nick chuckled. “No, I didn’t go because I thought they would believe me, and in believing me they would have killed me and buried me next to the stranger. To tell the truth, I was the only one who doubted what happened the previous night because, much like you, I didn’t wish for it to be true.” His soft eyes gazed at her and he bitterly smiled. “Why would anyone want to believe they were a monster?”

  She returned the smile and squeezed his hand. “You’re not a monster, you’re just-well, just not very good at asking people if they want to be a monster.”

  “I swear to you I believed there was no other-”

  “I know, I know. You saved my life. I believe you, but you’re still bad about giving a girl a choice,” she scolded him.

  He grinned. “I will accept your amendment.”

  “Good, so what happened after you dragged yourself to your cabin?”

  “I discovered my new senses and, for lack of a better word, panicked. I shut myself in my cabin and hid myself in a far corner until night. With such strong emotions I lost control and became the wolf.”

  She frowned. “Strong emotions? Any strong emotions can change you?”

  “Very few emotions can perform the change. Anger is one of them, and a strong sexual need is another. No doubt because the wolf naturally wishes to procreate.”

  “Wait, procreate? Are we talking wolf babies?” she asked him.

  “They would be called pups, but yes. Werewolves have a nearly insatiable desire to reproduce with their own kind.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “So how come I want to kill you instead of make out with you?”

  “The urge is strongest when you’re transformed, and weakest when you’re in your human form,” he explained.

  “All right, so any other strong emotions I need to worry about? I don’t want to go wolfing out because somebody dropped a can of tomato juice on my foot,” she commented.

  He chuckled. “None so long as you remain calm.”

  Lenore’s face fell. “I’m not sure I can do that. I did just try to kill you,” she reminded him.

  Nick froze and blinked. “A very good point, but we’ll assume no other person will turn you into a werewolf and spark your ire as I have,” he replied.

  “Fair enough, now back to the story. You wolfed out and then what? Ate a few squirrels?”

  “And rabbits,” he added. “I recall them being very delicious, and fortunately there was enough wild game around the cabin that I didn’t need to forage for neighbors.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “If there was enough game than why did that guy try to kill you?”

  Nick frowned. “Not all of our kind are so kind. Some would rather take advantage of a weak human than forage for a weak animal,” he told her. “The next morning I awoke naked in the woods and hurried back to my cabin. Once there I presented myself with two options. One was to use my own gun against me, and the other was to live my life as best I could.”

  The corners of her lips twitched. “So you chose to bite the bullet?” she teased.

  He grinned. “Not exactly. The easy path was tempting, but I wasn’t prepared for death and had also been brought up to fear suicide. I forsook my trapping and focused on taming the creature inside of me. It took a few months before I could change at will, and many decades before I learned all the workings of my new strengths and limitations. By that time the world had changed, but I wasn’t changing with it. It was in 1915 that I realized I had stopped aging. It was a blessing and a curse.”

  “What have you been doing with yourself all these years? Learning to drive and buying rundown old houses to renovate them?” she wondered.

  “Not quite. I threw myself into learning all I could about blood so I could study myself and, it was hoped, one day cure myself.”

  “I’m guessing that explains the box of wolf blood in the basement. You’re storing your blood to experiment on yourself?” she guessed.

  “Yes. I never expected to use the vials on a human, but you came into my life. The first I saw of you you were mowing your lawn,” he told her.

  “Mowing my yard?” she repeated.

  He smiled. “The grocery store was where I first met you, but not where I first saw you,” he admitted. “I came often to your yard and stood on the lawn at night looking up at your lovely house. You over-water your flowers, by the way,” he teased.

  “You were. . .you stalked me?” she asked him.

  He sheepishly grinned. “Maybe,” he replied.

  She frowned and pulled her hand from his grasp. “Was I going to end up dinner on your plate?”

  Nick snorted and shook his head. “Not at all. My interest was at first entirely platonic. You looked nice. Then I met you and realized you were lovely.” He brushed a hand against her cheek and smiled at her blushing cheeks. “The final push to realize my love was when I saw you lying in the road after your accident. I knew I couldn’t lose you.”

  “So you gave me some of your blood?” she guessed.

  “Yes. I won’t blame you for hating me for all eternity, but I will still help you all I can,” he offered.

  Lenore sighed and laid her hand over his that held her cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.” He raised an eyebrow, and she chuckled. “Have you ever been a checker on the day before Thanksgiving? Now that’s worse.”

  He smiled. “You can find the humor even in terrible situations.”

  “Yeah, well, I have a feeling I’m going to need it over these next few days. You said it took you that long to figure out how to control your wolfishness, right?” she asked him.

  “A few weeks, but you have me by your side, and I’ll help you how I can,” he told her.

  She dropped her hand and stood. “Good. You can start by getting the hell out of here,” she told him.

  Nick blinked. “You. . .you want me to leave?” he wondered.

  She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “I might not be trying to kill you now, but a girl needs time to accept that she’s got another monthly problem to deal with. In the meantime you get out.” She lifted him off the table, spun him around so he pointed toward the door, and gave him a push forward. “Now shoo before I change my mind and decide that you haven’t been using your head lately and won’t miss me whacking ot off your shoulders.”

  Nick chuckled and allowed himself to be hauled to the door. “Very well, but come nightfall watch your emotions. They may get the better of you and the change might happen,” he warned her.

  “If I feel the urge I’ll go soak myself in a cold shower, now shoo.” They reached the door and she pushed him through the open doorway. “And if you see Stan tell him I have something important to tell him.”

  Nick froze and swung around to her with narrowed eyes. “You can’t tell him anything,” he insisted.

  “I have to tell somebody. I’m a woman, keeping secrets just isn’t in my nature,” she argued.

  He stepped up and grasped her shoulders. “Not this secret. You must keep this a secret from even Stan. Do you understand?”

  She frowned and shrugged off his hands. “I trust him with my life,” she insisted.

  Nick chuckled. “But do you trust him with mine? How will he react when he learns I’ve done this to his little sister?” Lenore turned away, but he clasped her chin between his fingers and pulled her back to face him. “I understand how you feel, but-”

  “How can you? You had no one to talk to when you changed, and I have Stan,” she pointed out.

  Nick sighed. “I can see I won’t change that beautifully stubborn mind of yours, but be careful. Ev
en a brother may not accept what you have to say.” He leaned down and caught her lips in a gentle, teasing kiss. “But I’ll be at my house if you need anything.”

  Lenore watched him walk across her yard, down the sidewalk and out of sight. She sighed and leaned against the door frame. “That wolf is a lot of trouble. . .” she murmured.

  A different kind of trouble drove up and slammed the driver’s side wheels of their busted-looking truck into the curb in front of her house.

  Chapter 15

  Lenore curiously watched as her brother jumped out of his vehicle and strode across the lawn. He pushed her inside and closed the door behind himself. “Where is he?” he asked her.

  She blinked. “Where is who?”

  “Nick. Where is he?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He was-” She stopped herself from saying where he’d just been, but Stan caught her pause.

  “So he was here. What did he want?” he questioned.

  “He. . .he wanted to tell me something, but how’d you know he’d be here?” she wondered.

  “He left a note telling me he’d be out for a while. Where else would he go besides here?” he pointed out.

  “The store? The park?” she suggested.

  “But he didn’t. He was here. What did he have to tell you?” Stan asked her.

  Lenore bit her lip and turned away. “It’s. . .well, it’s kind of unbelievable.”

  “Try me.”

  She turned and wandered toward the living room. Stan followed her. “Well, he said that he was a-well, that he was a werewolf.” She heard Stan stop behind her and turned to find him standing there not with a surprised look, but with crashed eyebrows and pursed lips.

  “And?” he hoarsely asked her.

  “And-well, and that I was one, too. He’d given me some of his-” Lenore yelped when Stan strode forward and grasped her shoulders. He looked down into her eyes searching for any humor, any hint that this was a joke.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” he whispered.

  She stuck her face in his and glared at him. “I’ve got a lot better jokes than this, but as I was saying, he gave me his blood to save me from the fall.”