Mark of the Wolf (3 page)

Swinging her feet out of bed, she carefully
stood up, enjoying the feel of thick, plushy carpet. She looked
around again. The room was smaller from this angle, though far
bigger than her father’s room, and notably bigger than just about
all the rooms in her cabin. She looked down at herself, staring
mutely. It took a moment to register that she was naked.

Her breath caught. She could remember men
from the night before; they had ripped her shirt but she had still
had pants on. At least, she sort of remembered that. She definitely
hadn’t undressed herself, which left a few more questions
unanswered.

She looked around the room again, this time
slower, but she definitely didn’t see any closet and her clothes
were nowhere to be found. Great. Now what? Couldn’t go and explore
the house in this state, but staying put was out of the question.
If she had been kidnapped by those creeps, she wasn’t going to wait
around for them to check on her. Were they going to hold her for
ransom? Dumb. Her father wouldn't give a shit.

She glanced around the room one last time and
made do with the only piece of fabric available. Yanking the sheet
off the bed, she wrapped herself up in it firmly and headed for the
door. Worse come to worse, she could drop it and run, and a naked
woman running down the road was bound to attract some form of
help.

The hallway was just as ugly as the bedroom.
Hairy tan carpet and in-need-of-paint walls. She walked slowly and
carefully, listening, checking out the doors that she passed. A
bathroom on her left. A closet on her right, though she didn’t stop
to open it. Then she heard the suspicious sounds of clinking plates
and running water. A crackly, static voice reached her ears, but it
was the kind one heard from a fuzzy radio; not anyone speaking.

She crept forward, moving closer towards the
sounds until the hallway opened up into a large living room, full
of comfortable-looking leather couches and a giant TV. An unused
fireplace was against one wall surrounded by rustic brick, and a
deceptively gentle painting of a forest hung above it. The noise,
however, was coming from a different direction; it was still out of
sight,just around the corner, where now she could hear the clear
sounds of dishes and the intense odor of bacon. Her mouth watered
immediately. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Her stomach let out
a low rumble.

The sink turned off and the radio was now
clearly audible. Someone was listening to the news. Remembering the
commotion from last night, she wondered if any reports had been
sent in that she was missing. She continued forward until she was
inches away from the room and angled herself shallowly. Peeked
around the corner. She twisted her head to get a better view and
abruptly her breath caught. She blushed.

There was no need to hide anymore. With
slight hesitation, she moved into the open, staring into the
kitchen with wide eyes.

He was looking back at her, casually leaning
against the sideboard, drying a plate with a towel. The muscles of
his arms bulged clearly despite his loose white t-shirt. His
position gave her the feeling that he had known she was standing
there for a while. He didn't appear surprised by her entrance.

She swallowed. Hard.

He continued drying the plate, then set it down and
casually started on the next one, continuing to look at her as the
radio droned on. She only caught bits of what the voice was saying
–
“…five
bodies found in the woods… animal attack… nearby cabin abandoned,
currently searching for Maddy Baker, a student at our own Black
River High… her body not found among the others, though a search is
being done of the mountains….”

She licked her lips, her stomach squirming
with nervousness. It had been almost three years since their last
encounter in the woods, when she had been fifteen, attempting to
run away again though she had nowhere to go. He hadn’t said
anything to her then, as he had rarely spoken on their meetings –
just taken her hand, as he always did, and led her back down the
mountain. She wondered if he knew the situation she was in. She
wondered if he even cared.

Since it was obvious he was not going to
speak, she decided to finally break the awkward silence. “Uh… thank
you,” she said quietly, feeling it was appropriate. He had saved
her life after all… right? Or had it been that wolf? There had been
an animal of some kind… she couldn’t really remember very well, her
head hurt whenever she tried to think back that far. She had been
so woozy and incoherent that it was hard to remember anything after
the gun. Maybe he had killed the wolf? Or maybe he had just found
her, and the animal had left her alone, miraculously.

A hint of a smile formed on his mouth, just
the curve of the corner of his lips, then he turned away towards
the stove to where a fat slab of bacon was cooking. Her stomach
squirmed again; she was so nervous, she felt like it was her first
day of school. This was the first time she had gotten a real good
look at him up close and in full daylight, and she studied his
back, his broad shoulders that tapered down into a narrow waist,
obviously muscular through his shirt. He had long legs. She thought
he was at least six feet tall, far more than her modest 5’4”. He
wore dark blue jeans and black work boots underneath them, and
there were stains on his shirt that looked something like car
grease. She wondered if he worked at a garage, which would make
sense why she had never seen him around, since she didn’t own a
car.

His hair was long and black, pulled back into
a short ponytail at the back of his head. She knew because she had
seen him enough in the hardware store that he usually wore it this
way during the day, but all the times she had seen him at night,
his hair had been loose and wild, flowing in slight waves.

He had two plates out. His back was still
turned, but he was putting food on both of them. She watched his
arms work – definitely muscular, a healthy tan, with two tattoos
peeking out of his sleeves on both sides. She couldn’t tell what
they were at this angle.

He finished with the stove and turned it off,
depositing an empty pan in the sink, then set a plate on the
opposite side of the counter where a few bar stools were set
up.

“
Eat,” he said, then took a fork and
started in on his own plate. After a moment he glanced at her, his
green eyes even more intense in the sunlight. He raised one dark,
elegantly slanted brow.

Maddy felt like her legs might give out. She
stumbled forward, telling herself not to be stupid and trip or burp
or do anything else embarrassing, and swept over to the stool
across from him. It was only then that she remembered her choice in
clothing. Her cheeks heated, but she didn’t know what else to do,
so she swept the blanket around her, sat down on the chair, picked
up her fork, and took a taste of the bacon. It melted in her mouth.
After a short pause, she started scarfing it down.

She wasn’t sure if he actually watched her
eat or not, because she didn’t catch him looking at her after that
until they had both finished, then he wordlessly took her plate and
set it in the sink. Turned the water on. She watched, tense,
waiting for him to do something, or to say something that would
explain why she was in his house wrapped in his bedsheets.

He took out a sponge. Started washing.

Well, at least he’s clean
, she thought, and took the time to admire
his biceps some more, since he was definitely an amazing specimen
of a man. Because of his position at the sink, they were able to
face each other as he washed dishes, and she studied his face – it
was all angles and dramatic planes, with high curving cheekbones
and a straight nose. His lips were firm and sensual, with a strong
chin and sharp jawline barely covered by the ghost of stubble. His
lashes were long and dark. She felt her stomach squirm again and
tried not to stare, though now her gaze moved to his masculine neck
and broad shoulders. Wow, she had to get a hold of herself. Maybe
he was a childhood crush, but he was an adult, and she was young in
comparison. Probably he still saw her as the little eleven-year-old
of seven years ago.

Finally he finished with the dishes and
reached over to turn off the radio. He looked at her then, leaning
forward against the sideboard, his eyes intense.

“
So what do you remember from last
night?” he finally asked, his voice deep and rough.

It sent shivers down her spine. She had to
force her brain to think. It seemed like an odd question to ask.
“There were men,” she finally said. “Four of them, I think. They
came to my house, and I tried to run… didn’t get very far though,”
she said with a half-smile, attempting some humor. He didn’t
respond. “Uhm… they were eaten? Or something? They uh… they hit me
I guess… I don’t really remember much after that.”

He nodded, not commenting. She bit her lip
again. Great, why couldn’t she say something smart or impressive?
He just kept staring at her like that, and she couldn’t think with
those jade-green eyes focused on her so intently.

“
Alright,” he finally said. But he
kept looking at her, silently, as though he expected her to say
something else.

She shifted a little and was once against
reminded of her almost-naked state. She couldn’t get the smell of
him out of her head; it was all over the blanket and now, looking
at him face to face, it was making it even harder to think. “Um, I
think I should get dressed,” she mumbled.

“
Your clothes are drying,” he said.
“But I’ll loan you something….” His eyes briefly flickered over
her, and a hint of humor crept into them. “My clothes might be a
bit big though.”

She smiled shyly. Wow, awkward.

He motioned for her to follow him and walked
from the kitchen into the hallway. He opened one of the many doors
she hadn’t inspected and stepped into a narrow laundry room where
the dryer was running. A pile of clean clothes were sitting in a
basket, and he selected a pair of gray sweatpants and a floppy
sweater. He handed them to her.

“
I believe you know where the bathroom
is,” he said, with another hint of smile. She couldn’t explain how,
but he seemed completely aware of her actions since waking. With
another awkward smile, she headed towards the bathroom she had seen
earlier, and felt his eyes follow her, a pressure on her
back.

She walked a little quicker, relieved when
she finally closed the bathroom door and put her back against it.
She didn’t know how she was going to survive in this house much
longer – it was more nerve wracking than even her own home.

* * * *

He could smell her. It was driving him
insane.

She was still young, but he really couldn't
complain about that. He had known for a while now that this was the
one he had been waiting for. His female. His lifemate.

He had waited for her to grow up, because
what else could he do? And he hadn’t let himself get too close,
because that might scare her away, or alert the paranoid human
population to his presence. He might have been labeled as a stalker
or some equally perverted man. The truth was the opposite, however
– wolves like him mated for life, and once one found their
lifemate, well... it was done. Permanent. No other would
satisfy.

Now he hovered in the hallway, clenching and
unclenching his fists. Her smell drove him insane, and not the
sweet honey-like scent of her skin — deeper smells, like her sweat
on a cold night, her fear, her adrenaline-induced pheromones. He
had sensed her smell change when she had first seen him in the
kitchen. He knew what the sight of him did to her. He had sensed
the same change in the hardware store, where he had seen her
occasionally. He could remember when she had first been hired
there; skittish, pale, lost in the oversized employee uniform. She
always had dark circles under her eyes. A girl her age shouldn't
look so tired.

He wanted to bring her closer. He had many
secrets, most of which would mean her death if they got loose.
Werewolves had been thought of as mythological for thousands of
years and wanted to keep it that way. If the world found out the
truth, then someone would have to pay. But he knew he could trust
her. It was written all over her face. She was the type who could
keep a secret — who probably kept many.

His werewolf senses were what had originally led him to
her. He could smell her fear from the other side of the mountain if
the wind was blowing in the right direction. He had been new to the
area on that first night, having just moved to Black River, an
isolated town between pack territories — no man's land, perfect for
an exile. He had gone for a midnight run and heard her whimpers
from half a mile away. She would have never survived that cold
night on the mountain, not in her sleeping shirt. For those first
few years, he had found her outside almost once a month, terrified
and alone. Originally he had tried to keep his distance, avoiding
places she might be in town. But years had passed, and at fourteen
she had started her menstrual cycle, and then he had
known
. Her smell had changed completely. Far too young — but her
scent had called to him, drawn him as only a lifemate's could. He
had avoided her for years after that, worried of what he might do
if the wolf were provoked.

He knew very little about her life beyond the
mountain — but now he knew one thing. She was in trouble.

He could hear her in the bathroom. She was
taking a shower. He thought of her wrapped up in his bedsheets, a
loose inch between him and her bare skin. He had been short and
withdrawn toward her, only because he feared what he would do if he
let himself relax. Probably push the bacon out of the way, bend her
over the counter and take her virginity before she knew how to
refuse him.