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The story sounded way too familiar. My first three years of being a werewolf, I'd been on the bottom rung, completely submissive to an alpha who was borderline abusive. But the pack meant protection, and I didn't want to leave. A time came when I had to choose between the pack and my own life—my show, my goals, my future. And I picked me. I'd never looked back.
Despite my experience, I didn't know what to tell her.
I said, "You should be given some credit for wanting to help. But sometimes that isn't enough. As hard as this sounds, there isn't much you can do if this person isn't willing to take that step for herself. I'm sorry."
"But—" she said, and sighed. "I know. I know you're right. I just thought there might be a trick to it."
"You can be a friend to her, Becky. Keep talking to her. And maybe you could lead by example. Maybe you should both leave town." I wasn't all that hot on the pack structure. My bias showed.
"That's hard to do," she said. "I'm safe here. But I can stand up for myself. She can't."
"Then all you can do is look out for her the best you can. Good luck to you, Becky."
You can't save everyone. I'd learned that.
I lightened my tone to wrap up. "All right, my friends, we're about out of time. How quickly it goes when we're having fun. I'll be counting the hours 'til next week. In the meantime, a bit of shameless self-promotion: don't forget that my book, Underneath the Skin—that's right, my book, written by me, all about stuff I want to talk about—will be on sale in a few weeks. Like you weren't getting enough of me already. Stay safe out there. This is Kitty Norville, voice of the night."
Cue credits, with wolf howl—my own wolf howl, recorded especially for the show.
I was exhausted. Sometimes doing a show left me so buzzed that I couldn't sleep until morning. Not tonight. I couldn't wait to get home and crash. I felt like I'd been awake for days.
After chatting with the producer and finishing some paperwork, I headed outside. In his car, idling by the curb, Ben was waiting to pick me up. I hopped in on the passenger side, leaned over for a quick kiss, and smiled. Now this was a lovely way to end the night.
"How did it go?" Ben asked on the drive home. We were renting a place in Pueblo, a hundred miles or so south of Denver.
I pulled the elastic off my ponytail, shaking out my hair and scratching my head. I wanted a shower. "Great. It was a good night. But it really wore me out."
"You okay?"
I was always worn-out, lately. A condition of success was what I told myself. "Yeah," I said with a sigh and closed my eyes. I could feel Ben in the seat next to me, a comforting presence.
Ben and I never decided to be involved in a relationship. We'd fallen into the role of committed lovers by accident. Which was to say, both of us being werewolves, our wolf sides had bonded immediately and formed a pack. Our pack of two, I called it. A mated pair. This made it sound like our wolf sides and our human sides were two different beings, separate, distinct. But our human sides hadn't resisted the impulse. It had been easy, falling into each other's lives like this. Ben and I had been friends before he'd become a werewolf. Given time and opportunity, maybe we'd have become something more. I'd never know, now. Most of the time, I could ignore that niggling worm of doubt that hinted that this wasn't right. That this had somehow happened against my will. Ben was a good man, and I was lucky to have him in my life. We looked out for each other. But sometimes our relationship seemed a little bit like being in limbo. We were just along for the ride.
I slept like a rock and woke up nauseous. I'd been working too hard, I told myself. I hadn't had enough to eat the day before, but I couldn't bring myself to eat anything for breakfast. This morning, this day, was the day of the full moon. We had to drive, get out of town to someplace where we could Change in safety. Our safety, and everyone else's.
"You okay? You're looking a little green around the gills," Ben said as we packed the car. Usually on full moon days, I was the one asking him if he was okay. He was still a new wolf, still learning to control himself. I studied him; he seemed a little pale, a little tense. He had this habit of distracting himself from his troubles by worrying over me.
"Just a little off," I said. "Not ready for tonight for some reason."
He gave a grim smile. He was starting to understand.
Our territory was in the foothills of southern Colorado. Three hours of driving brought us to a remote national forest area. No camping allowed out here, no stray hikers to worry about. We'd be isolated.
We arrived and sat in the car.
"You're still looking off," Ben said again.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You don't—" He paused, pursing his lips, clearly uncomfortable. "You don't smell right."
I stared at him. "I don't smell right?"
"I don't know, I can't explain it. You just smell off. Never mind."
Great. Now I smelled off. I grumbled, "I'm just tired."
"Even now?"
Now, full moon night, was when the other halves of our beings had their time. The wolves got to run, and they tore to the surface with all the power of the wild creatures they were. It felt like getting drunk, like being high, and however much we said we hated it, we couldn't wait to run out there and Change. The Change drew us.
I felt sluggish.
"I'm okay," I said. "Let's get this over with."
We left the car and hiked into wilderness.
Ben was getting good at controlling his wolf. This was his fifth full moon. He could make it from the car to the woods without losing it and sprouting claws. Almost, he could hide any sign that he was about to shift. But I could tell: his heart rate was too fast, and he was sweating.
We had a den, a sheltered place to keep us out of sight, warm and safe. We stripped and stashed our clothes: shirts, jeans, and shoes. The moon was rising, bright enough to cast shadows through the woods.
Ben looked out into those trees, his breath fogging a little in the cool air. I moved around him, touched his arm, slid my hand across his shoulders. He was pale in the moonlight. His skin was hot; he shivered under my touch. He turned and bent his head to me, kissed my ear, my neck, nuzzling. I pressed myself against him. Naked in the woods, bathed in moonlight, every nerve charged with feeling—this was Wolf's time. I began to see him through Wolf's eyes, fierce and full of life.
He breathed by my ear, "You first this time. I want to watch you."
I smelled him: skin and sweat, pheromones, desire, need. "You'll be okay?"
"I think so."
I'd always waited, making sure Ben was okay while he shifted. Comforted him. He probably didn't need supervising—it was for my own peace of mind. Our wolves called to each other—they wanted to shift together. Could he keep it together while watching me?
Maybe he just wanted to see if he could keep it together.
"Okay," I said softly. I kissed him; he kissed back hungrily, but I pulled away—teasing. I couldn't help it. It was her, the Wolf, daring him to chase her. She felt his need and stoked the fire.
I backed away, step by slow step. I was so hot, had so much energy tied up in a knot in my gut I could have screamed. It scratched at my skin, fighting to get out. All I had to do was breathe out, let go, and it would tear out of me. I held Ben's gaze. He crouched, his hands clenched into fists, his breathing coming too fast. But his gaze was steady.
All at once I released it, bent my head, doubled over, and as the veil slipped my vision blackened.
Shakes out her fur, and every hair is charged, sparking. Coils her muscles, ready to run—she trots in place, a spring and a jump, raises her head, and meets the gaze of the one she travels with, the pale figure watching her with wide eyes.