THIRTY-SIX
“This is a definite drawback.”
Red kissed the back of my shoulder. He was half-lying on my back, keeping some of his weight off me, and I was on my stomach, propping my face in my hands. It wasn't exactly a traditional postcoital position, but we weren't exactly in a traditional situation. Well, okay, it was traditional for canines.
“You mean being stuck together? It only lasts a few more minutes. I kind of like it.”
“No wonder dogs look so embarrassed afterwards.”
“We could always take advantage of the position,” Red murmured, nibbling at my ear. He was lying curved around me, the bed a rumpled mess around us, and I could feel his radiant happiness at having me there, joined to him at last. I had never felt anything like it before, this drunken puppy sense of loving abandon. It was almost better than the sex, although the musky salt-sea odor of our coupling kept making me think I should get a second opinion.
Red must have been thinking much the same, because he began to swell inside me. I felt the prickle of change begin sooner this time, a gooseflesh sensation of the small hairs lifting all over my body.
I looked over my shoulder and Red's eyes met mine. He stroked the hair back from my face and we smiled at each other, wordless with the gift of love and sex. All this fun, all this remarkable, physical, mind-slowing, soul-searing fun, and it was ours for the having, free and clear. I'd always thought this kind of sex—the kind that sells cruises and canned soups and silk sheets and health club memberships—was some Hollywood invention. But it was real and it was mine.
“I sure hate to wipe that look off your face, Doc, but if we can, we'd better get moving. If we linger here too long, Magda's liable to take it the wrong way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, she said to take ourselves out of her territory. And I figure the sun better not catch us still here in easy walking distance.”
“Or else?”
“Doc, if we discuss this any further in this position we'll be here till noon, if you catch my drift.”
We tried to pull apart and, to my regret, succeeded.
“Well, that didn't hurt.”
Red flashed me a slightly rueful smile. “Speak for yourself.” I wondered whether or not he was joking. At least dogs didn't have to worry about what to say to each other afterward. Red pulled on his jeans and picked up one very small suitcase.
“You didn't take much.”
“Just the important stuff.”
We drove back, trying to be serious. Serious things were happening. But Red and I couldn't quite wipe the sloppy, happy grins off our faces. I was a wolf girl and he was a wolf boy and we were in love. Somewhere behind all of this giddy plea sure there was grief at losing my old life, but having Red to touch kept that pain at bay. We kissed at all the red lights, and some of the roads were so empty that we made out through two lights in a row. We necked our way up to Beast Castle's front door, his fingers hot against my skin despite the chill predawn air.
“I hope my mother's gone to bed already. I don't think I can wait till we get to my room.”
“Ah, first change. There's nothing like it.”
“You mean it doesn't stay like this?”
“Well, whenever the moon rides you, you'll find you're in the mood for a little bloodsport or sex. Sometimes both. But the initial metamorphosis is particularly—intense.”
“So you probably can't keep up with me, huh?”
Red raised one eyebrow. “Careful, little girl. I've been doing this a mite longer than you.”
I twined my hands around his neck. “So you think you can manage?”
My lover replied with a grin that revealed all his white and pointy teeth.
“I didn't know you could do that! You can change just a part of you?”
Red's eyes gleamed wolfishly. “It takes practice.”
“Wow, I want to try.”
“You'll probably be a quick study—it's unusual to change fully your first time, like you did—so, hang on.” Red was still looking at me, but he wasn't paying attention.
“What is it?”
“I don't know yet. Shh.” And then we both listened, testing the feel of the quiet darkness that was just beginning to lift in the east. Somewhere in the distance, a car's engine downshifted. Near us, a breeze blew leaves and a small rodent froze in reaction. Something was wrong.
“Red?”
He looked past me, out at the yard. “Aren't there dogs kenneled out here?”
“Of course there are. You helped me feed them—”
“They're awfully quiet.”
“I don't usually hear them when I'm outside the kennel building.”
Red's jaw tightened. “I do.”
We walked over to the small outbuilding used for the Castle's larger and more obstreperous canine visitors. The door was still closed, but the lock had been broken.
“What is it, Red? Vandals?”
“Maybe.” Once we stepped inside, I stopped thinking clearly. There was a tangle of limp, furred bodies on the hard cement floor—necks at odd angles, jaws frozen wide—and there was a lot of blood, the thick, ropy kind. The Akita had been killed near the front door, her throat ripped out. The rottweiler was in a far corner, his blood running in a thick stream toward the drain in the center of the room.
“What was it?” The smell of copper and flesh was so intense that I felt as if I were tasting it. I was still thinking vandals, some kind of animal, some hideous dogfight.
“Abra, maybe you'd better wait here while I check out the house.”
And that was when I realized that, of course, it was Magda. Which meant that this was my fault, my responsibility, for seducing Red instead of leaving his cottage as quickly as we could. “Oh, God. Is this—is Magda punishing us?”
Red reached out and touched the back of my head. “Let's just take this one step at a time. Give me the key. You see if anyone here needs your attention. I'll be back in a few.”
I had begun to crouch next to one of the mongrels, a sweet doe-faced female we'd called Happy, when I realized what had just happened. I didn't need to go to each victim's body. My wolf-enhanced hearing could detect that the only heart beating there was mine. Which Red would have known as well.
So the only reason for him to have gone in solo was to keep me safe. I stood up, my knees trembling a little in reaction.
The scream was sudden and high and unmistakably female.
Mother.
I ran to the main house and found the front door open. And then I stopped, waiting in the familiar Spanish foyer with its grand winding staircase, not knowing where to go. I had started heading for the stairs when I heard a metallic crashing sound, and turned back toward the kitchen. Remembering all the old cop shows I'd ever seen, I tried to ease myself along the wall so that I could see what I was getting into before it hit me.
“No good sneaking like that, Abs. I can hear you rustling around out there.”
It was Hunter's voice. Surprised, I stood still for a moment, my hand to my mouth.
“Come on, come on out. Come on, dear, I can smell you. And what an interesting odor it is, too.”
I stepped out into the light of the kitchen, and what I saw was so unexpected that I wound up just standing there in the doorway with my mouth hanging open.
Hunter, on the other hand, did not seem in the least surprised.
“Hello, Abs,” he said, never looking up from what he was doing. “Still on the veggie kick, or in the mood for a little meat?”