The Alpha's Daughter (4 page)

A
steady drizzle began just as they turned off the main road and
drove up into the hills, twisting and turning enough times that
even with her animal skills Jazz wasn't sure she could find her way
out. Finally, they pulled down a long, rutted lane, passed several
houses in great need of repair and parked in front of the worst
she'd seen so far.

"This is it," he said and turned off the
clanking engine.

"Yes," she said, staring out at the gray
clapboard monstrosity that listed a little to the left of its
foundation. "But what is it?"

"Home," he said and stepped from the
truck.

The grizzly's den didn't look any better than
his truck. Jazz continued to stare even after he came around and
opened her door.

"In case you hadn't noticed, it's raining. I
suggest we get inside," he said impatiently.

Jazz transferred her eyes from the house up
to his face. "Are you a serial killer? Should there be dueling
banjos playing in the background?"

The giant sighed and shook his shaggy head.
He seemed to do that a lot. "No, but it might become a temptation,"
he told her. Then he shrugged and left her sitting there. "Suit
yourself. You can sleep in the truck."

She scrambled after him, slamming the door
behind her.

"Watch that hole in the step," he warned as
the toe of her boot found the hole.

Hands on the porch, she caught herself.
"Thanks."

He held the door open for her and told her to
wait while he lit the lamp. She thought he meant turn on a light,
but no, he meant what he said. He lit an oil lamp and once he did,
Jazz wished he hadn't.

Piles of books littered the floor and tables
and chairs. What wasn't covered with books, was covered with
papers, mostly the loose leaf kind like she used in school with the
blue lines and the three holes punched in the sides. All were
written on; some filled with notes jotted in the margins, some only
half filled with most of what was written scratched out.

What wasn't covered in books and papers was
cluttered with glasses and dishes and mugs, all dirty. Then there
were the clothes, not many, but enough, tossed over the backs of
chairs and hooked over doorknobs. This was the living room and only
a bear would live in it.

"Live here alone, do you?" she asked, looking
around at the mess.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"I can tell."

"You can sleep on the couch," he said and
swept a pile of junk to the floor. "Kitchen's through there." He
pointed to the door at the far end of the room. "My room." He
pointed through the archway straight across from the entry.

"You sleep in the dining room."

The grizzly lowered his chin to his chest and
looked at her.

"Of course" she nodded agreeably though he
hadn't said anything. "Why not? Bachelor, three rooms; kitchen,
living room, bedroom. Makes perfect sense." She put her hands on
her hips. "Did you go to med school?"

"I thought we'd already gone over this," he
muttered while he stripped off the plaid flannel shirt he wore like
a jacket. The long sleeve thermal he wore beneath showed every
ripple and bulge of the body it covered. "I'm an M.D., a real
one."

"So I'm guessing here, because I never got
past tenth grade, but didn't you have a class or something about
germs, bacteria, fungus, that kind of stuff?" She picked up a plate
that held what used to be a slice of bread. "Mold? I mean, I know
we wolvers are a hardy lot, but we can still get infections and
shit, right?" Her eyes took in the rest of the room. "Or break a
leg? Or a neck?"

"I've been busy."

Jazz snorted a laugh. "Not with a love life,
I can guarantee you that."

"My love life is none of your business," he
growled.

She laughed outright at that. "I'll bet your
love life ain't nobody's business. You invite a girl back to this
place and the only somethin', somethin' going on is gonna be you
shakin' your hand in the shower after she runs screaming out the
door." Even covered by the beard, she could see he was pissed.
"Hey! I'm just saying."

The giant's chest expanded another six inches
with the breath he took in and held. Then he closed his eyes and
let it out slowly. When he opened them he reached for the pillow
and blanket that was folded on the table next to the couch. He held
them out to her.

"You can sleep on the porch." There was no
chuckle, no hint that he was kidding. He stared at her.

He meant it! Jazz took the bedding from him,
no longer laughing. "Shit! I was only saying…"

"This is my home," he quietly interrupted
her, "into which I have invited you to take shelter because you
have nowhere else to go. I don't know how it is where you come
from, but where I come from, people are appreciative of the small
sacrifices others make on their behalf. They do not, no matter how
poor or humble, poke fun at someone's home."

"Shit," she said again, "I was teasing.
Where's your sense of humor?"

"I lost it," he said, turning away from her,
"A long time ago."

Jazz wasn't sure if she should be furious or
cry and decided on both but she'd be damned if she'd let him see
either one. "Can I at least use the bathroom before I go?" she
demanded.

He picked up the flashlight that shared the
table with the bedding and held it out to her. "Around back," he
said and curled his hand around in the general direction.

"Outhouse?" Jazz closed her eyes tight.
"You're going to make me use an outhouse?" Humiliated, but
determined nonetheless, she begged, "Please, please don't make me
go outside. No matter what your bathroom looks like, I promise I
won't say a word. I'll even clean it for you. Just don't make me go
outside."

"You're a wolver. You go over the moon. When
you’re a wolf, you urinate like a wolf. You can use an outhouse,"
he said firmly.

"But that's just it. I don't. I never have.
Well," she said, being honest. "I did once, but only once and after
that, I learned to hold it. I can't go outside. Please." She still
hadn't opened her eyes.

"Why?"

"Never mind why. I just don't like to, okay?"
Couldn't he see how much this upset her?

"Bullshit. Why can't you go like every other
wolver does? Why can't you use an outhouse?" He didn't say it, but
she heard it in his voice. He wasn't budging until she answered.
Why, oh why hadn't she used the Ladies' at the bar again before
they left?

"I thought you didn't like swearing," she
said in an attempt to change the subject.

"We already had that discussion. Let's have
this one. I'm a doctor. I can't tell anyone and maybe I can
help."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He
wasn't laughing at her and didn't look like he was enjoying her
humiliation.

"You can't help. It's never been a real
problem until now," she lied. It was a problem and ruined the one
night of the year every wolver woman was meant to enjoy, the one
and only night they could turn wolf without the aid of their
Alpha.

He stood there, staring down at her and
waiting. Talking about it wasn't helping her full bladder and she
had to fight the urge to cross her legs.

"It was my first time going over the moon,
okay? I was young, stupid. I was over excited. I wasn't paying
attention."

It was right after her first estrus. She went
into that first heat in late September and the Hunter's Moon of
October, the moon where all adult female wolvers went over unaided,
was early that year. She was only thirteen, younger than the age
most wolver girls were for their first time and she had no one to
tell her what to expect. Her mother was gone and Margie had yet to
arrive. Other women avoided her.

"What happened?"

"I got bit. I wasn't paying attention and
when I squatted I got snakebit. Happy now?" Her humiliation was
complete.

She knew it was ridiculous, but she was
terrified and couldn't get past the feeling there was a snake out
there waiting just for her no matter where she was. She hadn't been
able to enjoy going over the moon since.

"What kind of snake?" he asked curiously.

"Oh for fuck's sake! It was a rattler, a
stupid fucking sidewinder. I was sick for weeks. Can I use your
damn bathroom now?"

"I don't have one." He clicked the button on
the flash light, saw the batteries were good and held out his hand.
"Come on. I'll go with you."

"You don't have one." Jazz closed her eyes,
this time to prevent herself from clawing the bastard's eyes out.
"You made me go through all of that and you don't have one."

He shrugged. "I never got around to putting
one in. I never missed it." He kept his offered hand open and when
she finally placed her hand in his, he wrapped his big paw around
it. "I'll keep you safe, little Hellcat. No snakes in my
outhouse."

Ashamed as she was of her cowardice, she let
him lead her out across the porch and around to the back of the
house through the rain. She hung on to his hand like a little girl
and damned if the big paw holding it didn't make her feel safe. No
snake could survive those giant boots.

He shined the light inside the old wooden
structure, checking the upper corners and floor and even the
hole.

"All clear," he said and released her hand to
hold the door open and waited until she was inside to say, "I'll
just step away to give you some privacy."

"No!" Jazz closed her eyes again unable to
believe she was acting like such a wuss, but unable to do anything
else.

"Okay, I'll stay right here, right outside
the door." He handed her the flashlight and closed the door behind
her. "Where'd you get the name Jazz?" he asked
conversationally.

"Um, it's short for Jasmine," she said as she
wriggled free of the leather pants and bent over the hole. She
tried, but as much as her bloated bladder ached for release, she
couldn't let go.

"Jasmine that's a flower isn't it? Smells
sweet?"

"Yeah, my mother loved the smell of it."
Damn, why couldn't she just go and get it over with.

"They should have called you Rose."

"Why?"

"They're pretty, but they're loaded with
thorns."

Her bladder released when she snorted. "Was
that a compliment, because it was a little back handed, you
know?"

"That remains to be seen."

Jazz wiped with the tissue from the roll that
was hung handily from a peg and hiked everything back into place
wincing at the chafed spots. The leathers were best for riding
motorcycles and in them she knew she looked hot, but they weren't
meant for all-day wear and were growing uncomfortable.

Her grizzly was waiting where he said he
would, right outside the door and he held out his hand to her as
she exited. The deed was done, so to speak, and she could see
perfectly well in the dark, as all wolvers could, but it was a kind
gesture so she accepted it and smiled her thanks.

"Sorry," she said and meant it. It was
raining harder now and she'd made him stand in it, waiting.

He didn't answer, but squeezed her hand
lightly and led her back to the house.

"The couch is yours," he said as he brought
her inside. "I've got some work to do, so I'll be a while. Blow out
the lamp when you're ready."

He left her and went to a door at the side of
his bedroom. It led, she assumed, to the addition on the side of
the house. Set back a little from the front of the house, she'd
seen it on their walk to the outhouse. There was a separate
entrance and a separate porch that looked in better condition than
the one on the main house.

Jazz slipped her wet jacket off and seeing no
proper place to hang it, draped it over the chair. She scratched
her head, sticky with hair product and rain. If there was a
kitchen, there might be water. She had soap and shampoo in her
purse from the motel she'd stayed in the night before.

When her boots were off, she wiggled her toes
in relief, and slid the leather slacks to the floor. In her tank
top and panties, she padded to the kitchen, avoiding what she could
of the mess on the floor. On the way, she passed a pile of tee
shirts and sniffing one, ascertained they were clean. She took one
with her to the kitchen.

It wasn't quite as bad as the front room and
there was water, a cold water pump. Welcome to Little House on the
Prairie. Ma Ingles would have thought it was heaven and Jazz was
too tired to complain. The soap and shampoo did their job and she
rinsed her underwear and tank and hung them to dry on the backs of
the wooden chairs that surrounded the cluttered table. She blew out
the lamp and used her night vision to make her way to her bed.

The tee shirt hung to mid-thigh and was wide
enough to fit two of her inside. It was soft and comfortable and
she thought she would sleep well in it, but no matter how
comfortable her sleepwear, it didn't make up for the lumps in the
couch. Wherever the lumps in the cushions subsided, the springs
beneath them poked through. She tossed. She turned. She kept
looking at the bed.

The bed was a big one, big enough for two to
sleep without touching. She wouldn't take up much room if she slept
along the edge. Once the thought was in her head, she couldn't get
it out. She gave it another five minutes and then took her pillow
and moved to the bed.

She expected it to smell like unwashed wolver
but it didn't. It smelled like her big grizzly bear. It smelled of
grass and sunshine and warm spring rain. It smelled like woods and
running water. It smelled fresh and clean and green.

"Who's been sleeping in my comfy, big bed?"
Jazz said aloud in a deep and growly voice. She snuggled down under
the covers and giggled. "Me, Papa Bear, me." She closed her eyes
and was immediately asleep…