My Sister Is a Werewolf (5 page)

He reached forward, looping his arms around her, pulling her toward him. She started at the touch. She opened her eyes, regarding him with those intense eyes, her thoughts unreadable.

“You don’t look comfortable. Rest against me,” he murmured, tugging her again.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes locking with his again, still unreadable. But then she did, settling against his chest, her head nestled against his shoulder. He pulled her closer, amazed at how delicate she felt in his arms. He let his head fall back again, his eyes drifting shut, his body boneless. And this woman’s warmth surrounding him.

He wasn’t sure how long he dozed, but when he woke, the woman sat on the driver’s side, one of her boots held loosely in her hand. As usual, her pale eyes were studying him, but something in addition to intensity burned in them, an emotion he hadn’t seen there before. Something like melancholy, but when she realized he was awake, she smiled and whatever he thought he saw vanished.

She returned to pulling on her boot.

Glancing down at himself, he became aware that he still lounged against the seat, his jeans undone, his shirt hanging off his shoulders. As he sat up to straighten his clothing, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“T
hank
s,” she said, her voice oddly airy, given the strangeness of this situation. Then she opened the car door and hopped out into the darkness.

“Hey,” Jensen called, hurrying to zip his pants. He pushed open his door, peering out into the pitch-black woods. “Hey... ” He didn’t even know her name.

He paused, listening, trying to figure out which direction she’d headed in. No sound met his ears but the patter of soft rain on the underbrush.

He stood there for several minutes. He’d have to hear her eventually, but he didn’t. She had simply disappeared.

He shouted to her a few more times, but received no answer. He listened again. In the distance, a mournful howl echoed eerily though the damp air. A dog, he suspected. Or a coyote.

He peered into the darkness a moment longer, then reluctantly slid back into his truck.

To his relief, the engine roared to life with the first twist of his key. He had no idea his truck had been running on battery. He glanced at the digital clock on the dash. The numbers glowed that it was twenty-two minutes after one in the morning. Not that that meant much to him. He had no idea when they’d arrived here. His first thought once they’d parked had not been the time.

He glanced around once more, searching as far as his headlights would allow in the nearly black woods. Then he shifted the truck into reverse and back out the dirt road.

By the time he reached the main road and turned onto the highway that led back to West Pines, he was starting to feel like the encounter had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. A hallucination brought on by being back in his hometown, and all the memories the homecoming had evoked.

Hell, the idea made as much sense as anything else that had happened. The only flaw in his theory was the fact that if he was going to have sex with a figment of his imagination, wouldn’t he have conjured Katie?

Katie.

Suddenly a wave of nausea flipped his stomach, but he managed to swallow back the sensation. He focused on the road rolling out in front of him.

The woman, figment or not, was the first woman he’d had sex with since Katie died. For three years, he’d had no interest in anyone. Hell, he’d gone into this evening
knowing
that his body was as dead as Katie’s. It wasn’t as if women hadn’t approached him in the years since Katie passed. He just hadn’t been interested, not in the least. He didn’t believe he ever would. Then, there she was—the strange woman with the eerie eyes.

And he’d ended up on a deserted country road, banging her in the front seat of his truck like a crazed teen.

More nausea rose, twisting his stomach. He gritted his teeth. Somehow, this, tonight, that woman and what they’d done, felt like another betrayal to Katie. The final horrible injustice to her and her memory. His first sexual encounter since he’d lost her. With a nameless stranger.

As he pulled up to his grandfather’s home, his childhood home, he still clung to the idea that the encounter was some kind of dream, the created fantasy of an overstressed mind. Then, when he opened the door, he spotted the tiny, lace panties. Panties he’d torn from the woman’s body.

Disgust leapt through him again, pooling in his stomach. He had thought he’d felt all the disgust with himself that he possibly could when Katie died. He was wrong.

Chapter 5

A
s soon as he’d found her, he’d known something was different. Brody Devlin could sense these things. Of course, after what he’d just witnessed, there was no doubt she’d changed. In fact, he hadn’t been prepared for just how different Lizzie was.

He’d been watching her for a while, running the perimeter of her house, watching, trying to decide what had changed. That was why he hadn’t approached her yet. He liked to know what he was up against, and exactly who he was getting back once he took her. He wanted no surprises in front of the pack. None. He was counting on her.

She definitely wasn’t the girl who’d left the pack in the dead of night all those years ago. Not even close.

He paced, his movements silent on the wet leaves. He had to admit he’d sort of liked watching her with that guy. Damn, that had been hot. Not that he wanted another male—especially a human male—screwing his woman. Or maybe he did. As long as he got to screw Lizzie, too.

He
had
missed that sexy body, which hadn’t changed except to get more exciting. He’d always lusted after her, even though she was a cold fish. Or
had been
a cold fish. That woman in the truck had been on fire.

The Lizzie he knew had been as frozen as a witch’s tit. She was far too high-and-mighty to allow herself to react to him. She didn’t seem to let anything touch her. She lived in a self-contained fortress, nothing affecting her.

Of course, that had been why he’d wanted her. She’d been so aristocratic, so well-bred, so damned beautiful. A lost little thing who had been tossed out of her pampered life and straight into a world she’d never known existed. She’d been his stolen bit of a world that he’d never been a part of, that had always been way beyond his reach.

Until he had her. Having Lizzie as his mate had elevated him. Made him someone. And he wasn’t letting that go. She was coming back to the pack. She was fixing what she’d ruined when she’d left him. Humiliated him.

He knew she wasn’t going to come back easily. He never had expected it to be willingly. But now, he could see he might have a spitfire on his hands. He’d enjoy that, too. He liked a good fight.

Again, he pictured her bobbing up and down on top of that mortal. Her lips parted, her heavy breathing. He liked a good screw, too. And combining the two—now, he’d really enjoy that. He growled low and hungry in his throat. Who knew she even had that in her?

Oh no, that woman was not the Lizzie he knew. But he planned to know her—well. After all, she was
his
mate. Of course, she’d never reacted to him like that. Irritation rose up in his chest. She rarely reacted to him, period.

He’d tried. He’d done things just to get her to respond. At first, kind things. But she didn’t care for his kindness. So then he’d done hurtful things. Hateful things. He’d learned long ago that any attention was good attention, because her remoteness pissed him off. Her control, her tight rein on herself, drove him goddamned nuts.

He hated it.

His train of thought was interrupted as he caught sight of Lizzie. She remained stock-still behind a large oak, watching the mortal. She didn’t react, didn’t even twitch as the human called out to her. But she didn’t leave, either; she just stayed silent, studying the human until he got back in his truck. As soon as the vehicle began to back slowly away, Lizzie fled, zigzagging easily through the trees and thick underbrush.

He glanced once more at the fading headlights. What a chump. Lizzie was obviously done with the loser. The fact it was just a hookup made Brody calmer. Watching had been fun. But he didn’t share.

He’d overlook this, as long as the pack didn’t find out. As long as she came back with him—and saved his hide. And since she didn’t have a choice on that count, well, like he’d said, he’d overlook.

He started to follow Lizzie, his paws noiseless on the wet leaves. Then he paused. A scent wafted through the damp air, mingling with the smells of the woods. A sweet scent. An alluring scent. A scent that made his gut clench and his skin crawl.

He turned back to where the truck had been parked. The smell definitely came from that direction, although he hadn’t noticed if it had been on Lizzie, too.

But if it was the scent of what he thought it was... Then he needed to stick around for just a little longer before heading back to the pack with his mate. This could be a situation that would ruin him. And he couldn’t overlook that.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, blinking a few times as she tried to focus and get her bearings. Finally, recognition filled her sleep-fuzzed brain. She was in her bed nestled under the eaves, her thick pink-green-and-cream-checked quilt pulled up to her chin. Watery sunlight flickered and toyed with the idea of brightening the room. But so far, the room stayed dim.

She yawned and stretched her arms over her head, letting them drop heavily to the pillows. She didn’t know what time it was, but she felt as if she’d slept for a long time. And she’d slept like a rock, a feat she hadn’t managed in weeks.

She snuggled down into the mattress, soft down and warm covers shifting to cuddle her whole body. Well, it certainly wasn’t because the bed was uncomfortable. It felt absolutely delicious this morning.

She yawned again, stretching her legs, nearly moaning at the pleasurable release of pain from her limbs and back. Then she froze as a rather pleasant ache manifested between her legs as well.

Suddenly the previous night’s events returned, unfolding in her brain like the slow stretch of her muscles. She sat upright, staring out at the room, yet seeing nothing but the flashing images of last night.
Oh God!

“Oh God.”

She’d picked up some mortal guy in her brother’s bar, or rather, her sister-in-law’s bar. Which meant both of them had witnessed her strange behavior.

“Oh God,” she murmured again, dropping her face into her hands.

And the guy—Jensen—she groaned. What did that guy think of her?
Slut
seemed like a pretty apt word, and very likely option. Crap.

Letting out another groan, she fell back against the pillows. They didn’t feel nearly as comfy as they just had.

Okay. Okay. She could make things right with Christian. After all, her brother didn’t actually know that she’d gone off with some guy she’d essentially been stalking and jumped him in the front seat of his truck.

But he did know she assaulted one of his patrons. He had to have found her overreaction a little odd. Still, she could deal with explaining that better than explaining a random hookup. She didn’t think she could even explain it to herself. She’d never done anything like that before. Her behavior had been bad—very, very bad.

“Christian could never know about that,” she vowed to herself and the empty room.

Although... the act itself hadn’t been bad. It had been really, really good.

She made another noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. What was she thinking? She was reflecting fondly on the most embarrassing behavior of her entire life.

What had gotten into her since she arrived in Shady Fork? Was West Virginia like some kind of wolfbane to her kind? Making them act like lunatics at all times, instead of just on the full moon?

She hadn’t had a “normal” day since shortly after she arrived here. At first she’d been fine, but about two weeks after she was settled, she began to feel strange. In fact, the most normal she’d acted
was
on the full moons.

Sure, she sprouted hair and morphed into the world’s most deranged-looking
Canis lupus
—but she knew to expect that.

She hadn’t expected last night. If she had, she would have locked herself up here. She hadn’t expected the nagging restlessness and agitation to turn into... She didn’t even know
what
it had turned into.

Yes, she did. Lust—pure, unbridled lust.

And she simply didn’t feel like that. Not for a total stranger, whom she’d barely spoken to. Jensen.

She liked that name.

Good Lord! What was she doing? Now she was ruminating fondly over the man’s name. A man who she was darned lucky she even knew his name, given the mission she’d been on. And he didn’t know hers. Although that could be a good thing.

She’d actually asked him to fu...

She groaned again. She’d asked him to have sex with her. Not quite so tastefully, however. What was happening to her? The restlessness, the anxiety.

She didn’t even remember how she got home. The last thing she recalled was t
hank
ing him, then stepping out into the night. Again she groaned. She’d actually t
hank
ed the man, like she’d done nothing more than gotten a ride from him. Which she had.

“Oh God,” she moaned, dropping her head back into her hand.

This had to be related to the serum. It was the only thing that made sense. She needed to talk to Dr. Fowler. Now.

She scrambled out of bed and hurried to the cordless phone perched in its cradle on the dresser. From memory, she punched in the doctor’s number. It rang several times, then went into voice mail.

She hesitated, but then simply said it was Elizabeth and she needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

She hit the disconnect button, but stood there with the phone in hand, debating what to do. What had happened last night was too strange. Her crazy behavior, paired with this endless anxiety, and now she couldn’t even recall getting home. This was all so bad.

Except she didn’t feel the restlessness, the agitation right now. With the... sex, that feeling had actually disappeared. In fact, it had disappeared as soon as she’d orgasmed. She could remember that.

But it wasn’t the stunning, soul-stealing orgasm that replayed in her mind, or even the reprieve from the wearing agitation that had been plaguing her. It was the moments cuddled against Jens—the mortal’s chest. Listening to the rhythm of his heart. That was what she could see in her mind, still feel in her body.

Don
’t go there
, she told herself.
Don
’t be sentimental about something that was so not about sentiment. Especially if her behavior was somehow created by the serum. Then none of her feelings were real.

The lust definitely had been real. Very real. That was pretty darned evident from her behavior, but it was probably manufactured lust, and it didn’t deserve sentimentality. It deserved getting back to her lab and trying to figure out what was going on.

She set down the phone and opened her dresser, rummaging for clothes. What had happened to her physiologically? She’d acted like she was in heat. But that wasn’t possible. With female werewolves, the need to breed...

Elizabeth smirked at her own wording. Catchy. But the need to breed was triggered by the male werewolf. His pheromones spurred on the female’s, causing her own hormones to ready for mating. Human males couldn’t do that.

She could be attracted—well, obviously she could. And she could have sex with one, again an obvious statement. But she couldn’t go into heat over a human, and a mated werewolf always bred with its mate. Those were the rules.

Unless the last vaccination had altered her in some way.

For the briefest moment, Brody’s roughly handsome face filled her mind. Brody. Her mate. The man she’d bound herself to because she was young and scared and alone. She’d realized her mistake quickly, but by then, she was a werewolf. And even more dependent on him. She’d needed him to help her understand her new life. She’d needed him—and he’d used her. Fair enough trade. Until she stopped needing him.

But that knowledge didn’t stop a wave of nausea from coursing through her. No matter what her circumstances were with Brody, she didn’t cheat. That had been his department. Not that she’d cared. She’d have to have cared about Brody for his infidelity to hurt. And she simply didn’t.

Which was why she’d worked so, so hard on a cure. In her mind, if she was no longer a wolf, she was no longer mated. The cure was her only chance at a divorce, of sorts. Her only chance to find the real love and the family she’d craved for nearly two centuries.

Which was why she had to get to work. She pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a zip-front sweatshirt. The agitation was gone now. That was a positive out of all of this. Now she could focus.

Okay, there were the very distracting memories of last night to contend with, but she could control her recollections better than she’d been able to control that relentless restlessness in her body. She was wasting time thinking about the events of the previous night, anyway. It was one night of craziness—really, really crazy. But the side effect was calmness. At least in her body.

Now she had to get back to her work. She wanted her life back. Focus on that. The future.

But as she finished dressing, she couldn’t say why a memory of Jensen’s forest-green eyes appeared before her whenever she thought about her future.

“You got in a tad late, didn’t you, son?”

Jensen looked up from the newspaper as his grandfather ambled into the room. Not for the first time since he’d been home, did Jensen notice that his grandfather looked frailer than he remembered. His tall frame stooped slightly, and his large hands were more gnarled.