Werewolf in Alaska

Chapter 3

If Jake could have dragged himself away from Rachel after the fight with the bear, he would have done it. But tangling with the grizzly had taken its toll, and he’d been dazed by the encounter and in shock from loss of blood. Shifting into human form would have helped because a shift always aided the healing process. It was one of the benefits of being Were.

But he hadn’t been able to retreat into the forest to accomplish that before Rachel had grabbed a fistful of fur. In his weakened state, he’d allowed her to guide him into her house. Now, in the confines of her bedroom, he really couldn’t shift.

If he were with anyone besides Rachel, he’d be freaked-out right now. He’d never interacted with a human while in wolf form. But he thought that he could trust Rachel. Her empathy for wild creatures, especially wolves, should keep her from putting him at risk.

She wasn’t likely to spread the word about him, because she didn’t want to attract attention any more than he did. At the most she might tell her assistant, Lionel, and maybe Ted. Lionel wouldn’t blab and neither would Ted, unless he drank beer with his poker buddies.

Jake could play the role of faithful wolf-dog for a day or so, until he felt strong enough to slip out the door when Rachel wasn’t looking. In the meantime, he’d been handed an excuse to be near her, and maybe he should relax and enjoy it. He’d never have trusted himself to spend hours alone with her in human form, but as a wolf, he’d be fine.

As she dipped a washcloth in the basin, he realized he’d never experienced first aid, human-style. Whenever he’d hurt himself as a wolf or human, which hadn’t been often, he’d simply shifted to accelerate the healing process and let it go at that. Two shifts helped twice as much.

This time he’d find out how nonshifters dealt with injuries. When she touched him with the wet cloth, he nearly went through the ceiling. The stab of pain made him jerk violently, and he began to pant.

“Sorry.” She spoke to him in a low, crooning voice. “I’m sure that hurts.”

No shit. He began to question whether hanging out with Rachel was worth it after all. If he’d made a greater effort to get away from her, he could be deep in the forest healing his wounds by himself. He wouldn’t need her primitive warm-water-and-washcloth routine.

Apparently he’d overestimated the joy of being nursed by her and underestimated the amount of suffering he’d have to endure. She was obviously trying to be gentle, but damn, it hurt. He hadn’t appreciated how good he had it being able to shift his way through an injury. How did humans stand the pain? Narcotics, probably, and he wasn’t getting any of those.

Pride kept him from groaning every time she laid that warm cloth over his wounds, but he sure as hell felt like bellowing. He considered his options. Leaving now might be impossible, especially if she’d closed her front and back doors.

Besides, she wouldn’t let him leave if she could help it. She firmly believed he’d get sick and die without her medical intervention. Instead she was putting him through unnecessary torture, but her heart was in the right place. He was stuck here, so he might as well lie quietly and count his blessings.

And he did have blessings. As she leaned over him, he was surrounded by the sweet smell of almonds. After all the nights he’d traveled around the lake just so he could catch a whiff of her favorite scent, he was in almond heaven, so he’d better enjoy it while he could.

He’d often dreamed of having her touch him, too, and although her touch brought nothing but pain at the moment, that wasn’t her fault. She was only trying to help. In fact, without the aid of shifting, his wounds actually might become infected if she didn’t clean them.

She had courage to even attempt such a thing on an animal she didn’t know. He’d always thought she had guts and spirit, and she’d demonstrated that strength of character tonight. He’d never forget the sight of her bracing for the attack armed with a cardboard tube of sketches.

Good thing he’d been there to stop the mother bear from tearing Rachel to pieces. He’d been lucky to get a good hold on the bear’s throat. As she’d swung him around, he’d telepathically threatened to puncture her jugular if she didn’t stop.

The bear had finally listened to reason and the fight had ended. He’d hoped that Rachel would run inside when the fight started, which would have allowed him to disappear into the woods after it was over. Instead she’d stayed, from either bravery or fear—he couldn’t be sure.

But most people faced with a wounded semiwild wolf would have punched 911 on their cell phone at the end of the fight. Not Rachel. She’d chosen to tend him on her own, as if she understood the need for secrecy. She was truly remarkable, and although every swipe of the damp cloth brought agony, he was still honored to be under her care.

It crossed his mind that if any human could be trusted with the knowledge that werewolves existed, Rachel probably could. For the first time he understood how a Were might talk himself or herself into mating with a human, especially if that human had the sterling qualities Rachel displayed.

That still made human-Were mating a reckless decision. No matter how trustworthy the human might be, he or she could unintentionally leak information to other humans. Security would become impossible to maintain.

He discovered that thinking about the problems of mixed mating helped him forget the pain in his side, so he decided to focus on the topic as a distraction. Another major issue bothering him was the question of offspring. The ability to shift might be passed on to the next generation or it might not. Both of the Wallace brothers from New York faced this uncertainty about any children they might have, because they’d taken human mates.

As a result, they wouldn’t know until their offspring reached puberty whether they’d have the ability to shift or not. The ability to shift, along with an identifiable Were scent, didn’t show up for at least eleven or twelve years. Siblings could end up a mixed bag, with some human and some Were. How could that be a good thing?

He imagined having a discussion with Rachel about it. That wouldn’t ever happen, but if he could debate the issue with her, she’d probably agree with him. Weres and humans weren’t suited as mates. They were from different species and they—

“I should really shave off some of this fur,” she murmured, partly to him but mostly to herself.

He raised his head and glared at her. No way was he submitting to that.

“You keep acting as if you understand every word I’m saying.” She met his glare with a soft smile. “You don’t, of course, but it’s uncanny how you seem to.”

He’d have to watch his reactions so she wouldn’t edge any closer to the truth. But he wouldn’t let her take a razor to his coat, and that was final. One shift to human form and another back to wolf form, and he’d be on the road to recovery. If she started hacking up his coat while he was in wolf form, it wouldn’t grow out for weeks.

“I’m sure you don’t want me to shave you, but it would make dressing your wounds about five hundred percent easier. I’m going to try it and see what happens.”

The hell she was. After she walked away, he staggered to his feet and headed unsteadily toward the bedroom door. He’d leap through a glass window if he had to. His fur had never been shaved, and he wasn’t about to let her do it now.

“Hey.” She blocked his path, scissors in one hand and a girlie-looking pink razor in the other. “Where do you think you’re going?”

With one glance at the razor, he shouldered his way past her. Bad enough that she planned to shave him, but with a pink razor? Hell, no. Adrenaline gave him strength, and he nearly knocked her down. As he’d suspected, both the front door and the back one leading out to the deck were closed tight.

So were the windows. The bear had scared her into battening down the hatches. He didn’t blame her, and he’d hate to repay her kindness by breaking through her window.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could work up enough momentum to do that. The windows on the lake side of the cabin looked fairly new, which could mean they were double paned. Besides, if he succeeded in breaking through, he’d leave her vulnerable if the bear returned.

He’d told the mother grizzly to keep away, but her cub was young and unruly. He could scamper back. Curiosity might cause him to climb through a shattered window, and his mother would be obliged to follow. Jake cursed a bad situation that left him no good options.

“What’s gotten into you?” Rachel approached him, still holding the scissors and pink razor. “You seemed so docile until I mentioned shaving your fur.” She frowned. “Surely that isn’t the reason?”

Growling, he backed away from her.

“I can’t believe it’s that.” She tucked both hands behind her back. “You can’t possibly know what I plan to do with these.”

Yes, I do, toots. He growled again, louder this time. He would never hurt her, but if she thought she could trick him into getting shaved, she had another think coming. He’d find a way to escape that fate, one way or another.

“All right, I’ll give up on it for now. Come on back to your bed and lie down. You shouldn’t be walking around. You’re shaking like a leaf and you’re bleeding again.”

He was shaking, and he hated that. He’d lost a lot of blood, and without the ability to shift, he was pathetically weak.

“Go on. Get back in there and lie down before you fall down.”

He saw the wisdom in that suggestion. If he collapsed in the middle of her living room, he might not have the strength to get up again, let alone stop her from shaving him. The folded quilt she’d fixed for him was far more comfortable than this wide-plank wood flooring. He made his way back to the bedroom.

“The thing is, I want to put some salve on your wounds, and it will make a mess of your fur, which is incredibly thick. If I could just trim around the gashes, the process would be way easier. Then I could bandage you better, too.”

She wasn’t going to let the idea go. He imagined himself getting shaved and then heading to San Francisco in three days. Giselle had scheduled a late-night run with some of WARM’s supporters in the hills outside the city, and if Rachel had her way, he’d be the mangiest looking animal on that run.

Besides, some Were was bound to ask about it, and what was he supposed to say? That he’d allowed a human female to shave off his fur, like Delilah snipping on Sampson? This time in Rachel’s cabin had to remain their little secret, and that meant keeping all his fur intact. As much as he longed to curl up on the fluffy quilt, he followed his instincts and crawled under her king-sized bed.

He was too big to be doing that, but by flattening himself to the floor, he managed to wiggle his way to the very middle. Every movement hurt like crazy, but at least he’d be safe under there.

“Oh, for pity’s sake. Come out of there. How am I supposed to put salve on you when you’re under the bed?”

He figured he could do without the salve. She’d given him a dose of the antibiotic and cleaned his wounds. That should be good enough. It would be more than enough if only he could shift, but he didn’t dare try, even hidden under the bed after she was asleep.

The space was cramped, and assuming she slept in that bed tonight, she might feel him bumping around underneath her during a shift. Just his luck she’d hang her head over the edge and spy a naked man where a wolf used to be. He’d wait out the night and escape in the morning.

She didn’t appear ready to give up so easily, however. Dropping to her hands and knees, she peered under the bed. “I see you under there, wolf.”

He could see her, too, and she looked adorably pissed at him. Too bad. At this moment their goals weren’t aligned and she’d have to get over it.

“I wish I knew what has freaked you out. I still can’t believe it was the scissors and razor.”

He stared back at her and sent her a telepathic message. It was mostly the very pink razor. He didn’t expect her to get the message. Humans couldn’t communicate with Weres in wolf form. But he felt better after sending it, even if she couldn’t hear him.

She frowned as if trying to make sense of something. He wondered if her empathy allowed her to pick up part of the transmission, even if she couldn’t understand all of it. She was the most intuitive human he’d ever met, so she might hear a muddled version of his telepathic thoughts.

Testing her innate ability would be fascinating. But he’d have to reveal himself as a werewolf to do that, and he had no intention of betraying himself or his kind. He might believe she wouldn’t sound the alarm, but could he be absolutely sure?

His heart answered yes, but his logical brain insisted that she was human, and humans represented too great a risk to security. She could never be allowed to know who he was.

As that truth fully penetrated, he was filled with sadness. How cruel that he could be so close to her and yet so far. He chafed at the barriers, even while knowing they had to stay firmly in place. His belief system had never seemed like a straitjacket before, but it did tonight.

“All right, wolf, I surrender.”

If only she knew how often he’d fantasized having her saying that in a different context.

“I get the feeling that once you dig in your heels, there’s no budging you, so I’m going to leave you alone and get ready for bed. And I’ll call Otis. I’m sure he’s frantic.” Rising to her feet, she sat on the bed and the mattress shifted above him.

Jake wondered how she’d handle the phone call. If he was right about her, she wouldn’t mention that she’d been saved by a big black wolf. He wanted to be right about her.

“Hey, Otis. Sorry about that, but I couldn’t talk until I’d made it safely inside.” One of her running shoes dropped to the floor. Then she tossed a sock on top of it. “Yeah, I’m fine.” The other shoe landed with a soft plop. “The bear decided to leave. Guess it changed its mind about eating me.”

Jake exhaled in relief. He had been right. She wasn’t going to tell the whole story, at least not to her client.

“Actually, it was my fault for not looking before I walked out of my workshop. Trust me, I’ll be a lot more careful in the future.”

As she stood barefoot next to the bed, he heard her unzip her jeans and then saw her shove them down to her ankles before stepping out of them. His nose twitched as he drew in the sweet fragrance she stirred up by shucking off those jeans.

“Absolutely, Otis. I should have that triptych finished by sometime next month. Once I’m closer to the end of the project, we’ll figure out the best time for me to install it in the lobby.” She paused. “Right. I’ll need a couple of days to do that.”

She was silent for a moment, and then she laughed. “All my doors and windows are locked tight. Don’t worry. Okay? I’m safe now. Good night.” She sighed. The click of the phone being placed on the nightstand was followed by her T-shirt joining the rest of her clothes on the floor. “And that’s that, wolf.”

Last of all, her underwear landed on the pile. Plain white cotton with only a smidgen of lace. She didn’t dress seductively, not even when it came to underwear. Once again he asked himself why he found her so wildly sexy.

Part of it was her scent. He’d reacted to it from that first day, and not only because he liked almonds. Her natural aroma drew him, too.

Had she been Were, the reason would have been obvious. An attraction this strong usually meant a werewolf had found his soul mate. But he refused to consider the possibility that his soul mate would turn out to be a human.

The Wallace brothers had each justified their choice that way, but Jake thought they were rationalizing. They’d lusted after those women just as he lusted after Rachel, and they’d justified their actions by claiming a soul-mate connection. It had made the decision so much easier for them.

Jake thought they should have been stronger than that. They could have resisted, just as he’d resisted Rachel all this time. He didn’t pretend it was easy, but with the fate of werewolves hanging in the balance, tough choices had to be made.

Rachel gathered her clothes and shoes and walked into the bathroom that adjoined the bedroom. By turning his head, Jake could see that she’d left the door ajar. And why not? No need for modesty if your guest is a wolf. A rush of water indicated she’d turned on the shower.

Moments later, the shower-curtain rings scraped across the rod as she stepped in. The aroma of almonds became more prominent, and he imagined her using scented soap on her lithe body. Then she began to sing some popular song about rainbows.

Sharp longing overshadowed the ache in his side. Being here with her in such an intimate way was far more tortuous than he’d anticipated. He should have known, though. Hiding in the shadows night after night had been a small taste of what he was experiencing now.

What a ridiculous situation he’d created for himself. Had he managed to save her while in human form, they at least could have spent the evening together and shared a conversation, maybe even a glass of wine. He wouldn’t have allowed himself to get carried away, because that would violate his code, but they could have talked.

But as he listened to the water run and imagined her standing naked in the shower, he wondered if his code would have been strong enough to stop him from seducing her. Maybe not. In wolf form, he had no opportunity to go against his beliefs. So this situation, maddening as it was, saved him from making a huge mistake.

Sometime later, Rachel shut off the light in the bathroom and walked over to the bedroom window. From his truncated view he could see that her ankles and calves were bare, but he couldn’t tell whether she slept in pajamas or in the nude.

“Wow, it’s warm tonight. I sure won’t need the quilt I gave you, wolf. The one you’re not using, as it turns out. But it’s downright hot in here, don’t you think?”

Yes, he did. Speculating that she might sleep nude made the room seem even hotter. He was overheated and squished under her bed, but he wasn’t going to come out and take a chance she’d try wielding that pink razor again.

“I should probably keep the window closed, but it’s stifling. I say we open it a crack. The security latch might not stop a bear, but it’ll slow one down, and at least we’ll have a breeze.” The window creaked and cool air slipped through the small opening. “Ah, that’s better.”

She walked back to the bed. “Alert me if you hear a bear at the window, okay?” Then she climbed in.

To preserve his sanity, Jake pictured her wearing pajamas. Baggy, opaque ones with no style whatsoever.

The sheets rustled, and she switched off the bedside lamp. “Good night, wolf.”

Good night, Rachel. He closed his eyes and hoped to hell he’d be able to sleep.

Time lost all meaning as he lay in his cramped position thinking of her stretched out only inches above him, maybe naked, maybe not. Perhaps he’d been there three minutes, perhaps three hours. In the end, he concluded he’d been stuffed under the bed too long and he was too damned close to Rachel. He might start howling if he didn’t get out of there.

He listened to her breathe. Slow and steady. No movement of sheets or innerspring. She must be asleep. He hoped so, because he was vacating his hidey-hole. The space was not designed for a full-grown male werewolf.

Moving carefully, he eased to the foot of the bed and stuck his nose out. Then he listened again. The rhythm of her breathing hadn’t changed. So far, so good.

He worked his shoulders free, wincing at the pain in his side. Rachel slept on. Another few seconds, and he was out and standing on wobbly legs. Ahh.

Moving slowly across the wooden floor, he walked into her living room. The endless twilight of an Alaskan summer night allowed him to see the room clearly, and he took a look around.

Typical cabin furniture filled the space. If he had to guess, he’d say she’d kept most of Ike’s stuff—a sofa and two chairs made of sturdy wood and green plaid cushions that had faded over the years. They were gathered in front of a rock fireplace positioned between the windows that looked out on the back deck. An oval rag rug and a scarred coffee table completed the arrangement.

Jake’s cabin didn’t look all that different from this, except his cushions were plain green instead of plaid, and slightly newer. Instead of a storm door leading to his deck, he had a slider so he could manipulate it as a wolf. His fireplace was quite similar to hers, even down to the slate hearth.

Glancing at the mantel, he noticed the driftwood wolf. It was a shade lighter than it had been while he owned it, which meant she’d cleaned and oiled the wood. As he gazed at it, he had the oddest feeling of shared custody. A link had been forged between them the day he’d bought the carving, almost as if he’d adopted her child.

But he’d given up all rights to it, and that was for the best. Turning away from the driftwood wolf, he continued his survey of Rachel’s cabin. Like many floor plans in this part of the country, no division existed between the living room and the dining area. The round oak table and four chairs at the other end of the space seemed to be the same vintage as the sofa and chairs. The entire area was tidy and unassuming.

Jake liked knowing that despite her newfound wealth, Rachel hadn’t changed the character of her grandfather’s cabin. He’d made the same decision about his, which was of a similar age. Although he could afford every luxury imaginable, he’d kept his place simple, the way it had been when he’d bought it.

Well, maybe not quite. He’d added a couple of things, like a towel warmer in the bathroom and the finest king-sized mattress money could buy. He was a big guy and he appreciated a firm bed. Rachel’s bed also looked new, come to think of it. He doubted Ike would have splurged on a king.

As he’d suspected all along, he and Rachel were very much alike, except for one significant detail—he was a werewolf and she was not. Thinking of that made him wonder if he could risk shifting while she was asleep. He could really speed the healing process that way.

Casting a glance toward the bedroom, he decided to move into the kitchen. It had a pocket door, and he nudged it closed. Shifting was risky, but his wounds hurt like hell and he needed relief.

With the door closed, the kitchen became darker than the rest of the house. Its only window was shaded by a large pine, and the lack of light made Jake feel relatively safe. Shifting was noiseless. With luck she’d sleep right through it.

Once he shifted, he’d be able to open either the front or back door and leave, but he’d rather not have her speculate about how he’d been able to do such a thing. No point in making her any more curious than she already was. Besides, he’d be naked. Not the best way to travel through the woods. So he’d shift to human form, shift back, and return to her bedroom as a wolf.

Lying on the linoleum floor on his uninjured side, he focused all his energy on his transformation. The glow from his shift began to flicker in the dim light. He was seconds into the process, caught halfway between man and wolf, when his concentration was shattered by the sound of Rachel’s voice.

“Whoever’s in my kitchen, be warned. I have a killer wolf on the premises and he’ll rip your throat out without a second thought.”

Jake couldn’t afford the luxury of panic, or even time to appreciate the irony of being threatened by his own bad self. Refocusing quickly, he poured all his energy into shifting into wolf form before she opened that kitchen door.