Laura's Wolf (Werewolf Marines) (11 page)

She held still, not wanting to wake him and enjoying the warmth of his body against hers. But his position looked awkward and uncomfortable. He’d wake up with a crick in his neck. And he seemed to be sleeping so deeply that she didn’t think it would disturb him if she moved slowly.

Laura edged along the sofa, easing Roy down as she went, until he was lying with his head in her lap.

The night before, his face had been taut with pain, even in sleep. But now he lay unguarded and unaware, all the tension smoothed out of his face and body. He looked younger, as if she was catching a glimpse of his boyhood self.

Last night she’d been struck by his strength, even when he’d been so physically spent. But now that he’d recovered more, she was acutely aware of his vulnerability. She was holding him as his buddy DJ had held him when he’d almost died on the sand, half a world away from home. A surge of protectiveness welled up in her. She put her arms around him, as if that could keep him safe.

He had bruised circles under his eyes, and his lashes stood out long and dark against his pale skin. His black hair fell tousled around his face, with one lock hanging into his eyes. She brushed it back. It was damp from the shower, and stayed in place once she moved it.

Roy gave a soft sigh and turned his head into her hand, pressing his cheek against her thigh. Laura froze, but he didn’t move again. He’d only shifted in his sleep. She stroked his hair, feeling it part and slide under her hand, soft and cool. He breathed more deeply, seeming to sink further into sleep.

Every minute she sat and held him, she knew that she needed to lay him down before he woke up and discovered what she was doing. And every minute, she told herself that she’d just hold him one minute longer.

Finally, she forced herself to slide a pillow under his head and get up. He didn’t stir.

Laura fetched him a blanket, then puttered restlessly around the cabin. She tried reading in the armchair, but ended up watching Roy over the book.

He was still asleep by lunch time, but she decided not to wake him up. He was obviously exhausted, and probably needed sleep more than he needed food. She made an extra sandwich, just in case, but ended up stashing it in the refrigerator, which was still cold inside despite the power outage.

The quiet in the cabin, which had been so relaxing the day before, now made her tense. She couldn’t concentrate on anything.

For no obvious reason, she kept thinking of the blood-soaked white rug in the bathroom. She took the garbage bag that contained it and Roy’s wrecked clothes and tossed it into a trash can outside. But getting rid of the thing itself didn’t put it out of her mind.

As the day turned to evening, she started a pot roast with more of the venison. If Roy wasn’t up by the time it was ready, she’d wake him up. But he sat up when she opened the oven to check it.

He peered at the darkened windows. “Did I sleep all day?”

“You got shot,” Laura reminded him. “Your werewolf healing thing probably takes a lot of energy.”

“I guess.” He stood up, a bit cautiously, and stretched. “Thanks for letting me sleep. I feel a lot better.”

He looked better, too: less pale, and he moved more easily.
More like the wolf
, Laura thought as he padded barefoot into the kitchen.

They ate dinner companionably, but Laura couldn’t regain the sense of ease she’d felt when they’d chatted in the living room. Roy might be feeling better, but he was clearly still tired. Both of them kept losing track of the conversation.

The one bed loomed large in Laura’s mind. The least awkward way to raise the subject of their sleeping arrangements would be to joke about it, but instead she found herself saying abruptly, “You can have the bed, if you like. If Dad was here, I’d be sleeping on the sofa anyway. It folds out.”

Roy met her gaze, his expression serious. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think we should share the bed.”

“Okay, but…”

He touched the gun in his belt. “If someone breaks in, I don’t want to have to run in from the other room. It’s not only the time that would waste. The sound of a gunshot will hurt—maybe enough to throw my aim for the next one. I might only be able to get off one good shot. I’d rather be close for it.”

Roy’s cool analysis was far more unnerving than if he’d sounded afraid.

“How likely do you think it is that the guy who shot you will come back?” Laura asked.

“Well, he knows I’m a werewolf, and he knows he missed my heart. He can probably guess I’m still alive. If he wants to make another try, now would be a good time, before I have time to recover more.”

Laura pushed her plate away, feeling nauseated. She went into the bathroom and splashed cold water over her face until the lurching in her stomach subsided, then put on pajamas and crawled into bed.

She closed her eyes, and immediately saw the blood-soaked rug, bright red on white. The rough fibers were wet and cold under her hand, yielding and squishy. The smell of copper. A bitter taste in her mouth, of chemical smoke, of fear and defeat. Her entire body prickling all over, then going numb. Red on white…

She didn’t move when she heard Roy’s footsteps enter the bedroom. His weight settled down on one end of the bed, tilting the mattress toward him. Laura resisted the urge to let gravity slide her toward him.

“Laura?” he said softly.

If she answered him, he might ask her if something was wrong. And then she’d have to lie to him, or half-lie and tell him she was afraid of the werewolf coming back. She said nothing, and hoped he’d think she was asleep. A quarter-lie, she supposed.

“Good night,” he whispered.

Only inches separated them, but it felt like miles. She lay still, listening to him breathe beside her, feeling utterly alone.

Chapter Eight: Roy

Pillow Talk

Roy lay awake, all his senses attuned to Laura. He listened to her breathing, not deep enough for sleep, and the too-fast thump of her heartbeat. Her lemon pie scent was sharper, more tart than tangy. He could feel the heat of her body, so close to his, and wished he could reach out and take her into his arms.

At the very least, he wanted to tell her that he knew she was awake, if he could figure out a way to not make that sound creepy, and say…

Roy ran aground there.
Don’t be scared, I’ll protect you? I’m sorry you were traumatized by nearly getting kidnapped and seeing me get shot? What exactly happened to you
before
you nearly got kidnapped and saw me get shot? Want me to kiss you and make it better?

While he was still trying to decide what to say, or if he should say anything at all, Laura’s breathing deepened, her heartbeat slowed, and her scent grew sweeter. She was asleep for real now, solving Roy’s dilemma and leaving him feeling like he’d failed her.

He gave the Raven under the pillow one last touch, to make sure his hand knew where it was, then turned over and let himself relax. Though he’d slept all day, he was still tired, and easily slid into oblivion.

***

Roy woke up on his feet, pistol in hand, crouched and ready. Laura’s scream still echoed in his ears, but he could see no enemies in the dim room. Nor did he hear any breathing other than his own or hers.

He jerked the bedroom curtain aside, flooding the room with silvery moonlight. It illuminated Laura sitting up in bed, wild-eyed and gasping. He could hear her heart pounding, louder than his own.

“Roy?” Her voice was shrill, frantic. “What’s going on? Is someone here?”

“You screamed.” Even as he said it, he had an idea why.

Laura bit her lip. “I—I had a nightmare.”

Her scent was like lemonade without sugar, nearly bitter. She smelled more frightened than when she’d run out to him after he’d been shot.

He sat back down on the bed and replaced the pistol under the pillow, willing his adrenaline rush to subside. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I scared you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He looked her over carefully. She was trembling, her hair damp with sweat. If he touched her, she’d probably throw herself off the bed.

Roy picked up an empty water glass from the side table. Moving slowly, so as not to startle her, he offered it to her. “Hold on to this.”

Obediently, she accepted it in shaking hands. “It’s empty.”

“I know. What’s it feel like?”

Laura gave him a look like he was off his head, but Roy was glad of it: she was already coming back. “Hard. Smooth.”

“What else?”

“Um… cold. Roy, why—”

“Trust me, Laura. I’ll explain in a moment. Just answer now. What else can you feel right now? Describe it.”

Her breathing and heartbeat slowed as she answered him. “The mattress. It’s soft, but not that soft. The sheets are flannel. Fuzzy. My pajamas are fuzzy too. The room is freezing.”

The room was warm, but she was probably chilled from cold sweat. “Name three things you see that are white.”

She looked around, her trembling subsiding. When she replied, her voice sounded calmer. “The walls. The waterfall in the painting. The snow outside.”

“Okay, good. Now name three things you see that are black.”

“The dresser. The clock on the table. Your hair.” She rubbed a hand over her face. When she took it away, she could meet his gaze, no longer staring off into the distance. “What were you doing? What was the glass for?”

Roy took it from her and replaced it on the table. “It put you back in touch with the real world. Literally in touch. It’s more of a primal sense than sight, so it’s better to start with.”

“Where’d you learn that?”

Roy hesitated, not wanting her to think he was weak. Then again, he could hardly let her sit there and feel like
she
was weak. “Marco taught me. That is, he did it for me. A couple times. Nobody talks about it, but nightmares are kind of an occupational hazard.”

“I can imagine.” Then, with forced lightness, she added, “What would Marco say if he heard you giving away military secrets?”

“He’s given that one away himself. He doesn’t sleep well either.”

“Did I thank you yet?” Laura asked. “I’m sorry, I’m a little shook up. Thank you. I think I needed that.”

“Any time.”

They sat in silence, neither making any move to lie down again. Roy was intensely aware of how close she was to him, and of how troubled she still looked. He wanted to hold her tight and make her feel safe, but she hadn’t invited that, either directly or with body language. Her arms were folded over her chest, closing herself off.

But she’d seemed consoled when he’d confessed that he’d had nightmares too. It wasn’t something he liked to talk about, especially with a woman for whom he wanted to seem strong. To
be
strong. But if it made her feel better…

“After you have a nightmare, the fear clings to you,” Roy said slowly, thinking out how it felt as he spoke. “Like soap scum. For days, sometimes. Weeks, even.”

“Yes!” Laura exclaimed. “That’s it, exactly.”

If Laura already knew that a nightmare could shake you up for weeks on end, then she’d had a reason to have them before she’d ever met him.

While he was still wondering if he should ask about that, she went on, “How do you get rid of the soap scum?”

“A lot of people drink, to tell you the truth,” Roy replied. “Or do drugs. Not in-country, when they get back. Don’t do that, it only makes it worse. Some people drive fast. Seriously, a lot of Marines have motorcycles. Or—”

He cut himself off before he could say, “Sex.”

“Or exercise,” he said, after an awkward pause. “I like to lift weights. Or… No one wants to do this, because it can affect your career, but supposedly therapy helps a lot.”

“But then you’d have to talk about it.” Laura sounded horrified at the very idea.

“Yeah, I know,” Roy said wryly. “Believe me, I get it. But I have to say, after I told you about the helo getting shot down, I did feel better. Like you said to me: if you can stand to tell me, I can stand to listen.”

Laura’s scent went sharp, so much so that he could almost taste its bitter tang. Her heart sped up, too.

His impulse was to say, “Never mind, it’s all right, you don’t have to.” But he remembered DJ slapping him across the face, hard enough to drive his teeth into his inner cheeks. Pain wasn’t always harmful. If DJ had let him take the easy way out, Roy would have died there on the sand.

“What did you dream about?” he asked.

Laura didn’t reply, but her entire body started to shake. Her scent changed to pure lemon juice, acrid as fear.

Roy sat there silently and let her think about it, feeling like the worst person in the world. He’d probably have hurt her less if he actually had slapped her. But when he realized that she wasn’t going to say anything without another push, he decided to try one more. After all, DJ had hit him twice.

“What happened to you before you came here?” he asked. “You said you were already having nightmares. What were they about?”

Laura turned her huge brown eyes on him, bright and brimming with unshed tears. “If I tell you, you’re going to hate me.”

“I doubt it. Come on, Laura, I’ve been to war. There is nothing you can tell me that could shock me.”

A tear overflowed. “You saved me, and I—I lied to you.”

That did surprise him. “About what?”

“If I tell you, then you’ll know, and then you’ll hate me!” She scrubbed at her face, but the tears kept coming. “Ugh, I sound like a little girl. You must think I’m pathetic.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, but he knew it was a mistake the moment he did it; she flinched away, and he yanked it back. “Sorry. I could never think you’re pathetic. You ran out to save me, unarmed, remember? If I’d done that in Afghanistan, they’d have given me a medal.”

“I bet you
have
done that,” she muttered.

“Well—not unarmed. But yeah, I have. So I know exactly how scary it is.” Roy tried to recall how his own citation had been phrased.
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action…

He raised his hand, slowly this time so he wouldn’t startle her, and pretended to hold a small object. “I take pleasure in presenting this medal for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action to Laura Kaplan. Her heroism and selflessness above and beyond the call of duty reflected great credit upon herself and are in keeping with the highest traditions of the Mari—I mean, of exceptionally brave civilians. Here, I’ll pin it on.”