Laura's Wolf (Werewolf Marines) (38 page)

Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, but all she could see were the members of the pack. There didn’t seem to be any intruder.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I think Miguel had a nightmare,” Roy said. “I’ll talk to him. You calm everyone down.”

Laura could see better now. She watched Roy crouch down in front of Miguel. Nicolette was sitting beside him, with her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Laura said. Her voice sounded too loud in the silent room. “Miguel was dreaming. Roy and Nicolette are with him. Go back to sleep.”

Nobody moved. She opened herself to the pack sense. The wash of feelings and images and scents nearly overwhelmed her. Terrified and disoriented, Miguel projected quick-flashing impressions of rough bark and shining metal, the taste of blood, the smell of fear. Keisha wordlessly begged for it all to stop. Russell offered his throat in a despairing attempt at placation. Nicolette snarled at bay, blood matting her fur and dripping from her jaws, one paw caught and crushed in a trap. Roy was broadcasting calm, strength, and protection, but Laura caught a vivid tactile impression of him shaking in her arms.

Raw emotion ricocheted through the pack sense, threatening to crush each individual under the burden of the pack’s collective pain. Laura took a deep breath and reached out with her mind. Working delicately, she strengthened the bond that allowed them to perceive each other’s presence, while putting up a barrier around their individual feelings.

The barrage of fear stopped. Everyone still had their own emotions to deal with, but at least they weren’t being inundated with everyone else’s. Laura drew them all closer into the bond until they could feel each other’s core personalities instead of fleeting feelings. She sent images of them all sprawled relaxed in a den, lazily enjoying the body heat and physical contact, content after a long run and a big meal, everyone looking out for each other, until she felt them begin to calm.

Laura let herself come back to the room. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness now. Keisha lay back down. Russell, who hadn’t stirred before, turned over, reached out and patted Miguel’s foot, then lay still.

Roy was holding Miguel, whose face was buried in Roy’s shoulder. Laura couldn’t catch what Roy was saying, his voice was pitched so low, but she heard the soothing rhythm of his questions, and knew he was coaxing Miguel to touch things, describe things, name things, until he came back to the present and the world of solid things.

She caught snatches of Miguel’s replies, since he wasn’t being as careful about keeping his voice down. “Nicolette was crying,” Laura heard, and “The scalpel was pressing against my eye.”

To Laura’s relief, Roy said something that must have been a reminder to speak more softly, because Miguel’s voice dropped to inaudible levels after that. Of course, Roy still had to listen to it. And poor Miguel had actually had to experience it.

Laura was half-asleep by the time she felt the mattress tilt as Roy climbed back into bed with her. She cuddled up next to him.

“Is Miguel okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah, more or less,” Roy whispered back. “I talked him down and I left him with Nicolette. She’s his buddy. She’ll take care of him.”

“Are
you
okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, more or less.” Roy let out a huff of breath, almost a chuckle. “Less, actually. I got pulled into the fucking wall
.
I had to rip off pieces of my own body to get free.”

He sat up abruptly. “Come outside with me. We’ll wake everyone up.”

Laura followed him, stepping around the people on the floor. Russell was sprawled out, apparently fast asleep, one hand on Nicolette’s thigh. Keisha, also seemingly asleep, had an arm thrown around Russell’s side. Laura didn’t think that was accidental; the pack seemed to have a need for physical contact. Miguel lay huddled in Nicolette’s arms. His eyes were closed, whether he slept or not, but hers were open and watchful.

Laura knelt beside them. “How’re you doing?”

Nicolette put a finger to her lips.

Barely breathing the words, Laura whispered, “You’re a good friend.”

Nicolette mouthed, “Thanks.”

Laura followed Roy outside, into the moonlight and the cold night air, perfumed with pine and damp earth.

“I’m sorry, you must be freezing,” Roy said. “You don’t even have your shoes on. Let’s go back inside.”

“I’ll be all right if you hold me.” Laura knew he didn’t want to return to the cabin, but would prefer that to being alone.

“I know.” Unexpectedly, Roy scooped her up. “The barn. It has a space heater.”

She lay back in his arms and gazed up at the stars. With no light pollution to dim their brilliance, they hung scattered across the sky in sweeps of glowing white.

“I never see the stars in Los Angeles,” Laura said. “There’s worse places to settle down.”

“I like it here,” Roy replied. “It’s peaceful. I guess I’d get bored eventually, but for now, I could do with a little peace.”

“We could all do with that.”

He carried her up the hill and into the barn. Shivering, Laura turned on the space heater while Roy lit the candles. He sat on the floor and pulled Laura into his lap, draping a blanket around her.

Golden candle light illuminated a cardboard box neatly set with a plate and silverware, and a paperback dropped carelessly on the floor.

Roy picked up the book. “Look, it’s
The Key-Lock Man.
I never did get to finish it. I should probably start over from the beginning. I feel like I first opened it years ago.”

“I know what you mean. Do you realize that in all the time we’ve spent together, we’ve never gone on a date?”

“Yes, we have. We had our first date right here.” He pointed to the box.

“That’s right, that did feel like a very strange, unplanned first date.”

“It was a perfect first date. Great chemistry. Great food. Great atmosphere. Sure, it ended a little abruptly…” More seriously, he asked, “Did you run out because you felt guilty about lying to me about your father?”

The guilt she’d felt then was nothing to the guilt she felt now. “Yes. Well, that and all the other things I lied about.”

“You lied about more than that?” Roy didn’t sound angry, only curious. “That’s funny, sort of. I lied to you too.”

“Not telling me you were a werewolf doesn’t count. But I wish I’d been more honest with you.”

“Let’s have a do-over,” Roy suggested. “This time we’ll both be honest. I was hiding a little more than being a werewolf.”

You want to keep talking so you won’t have to go to sleep,
Laura thought.

But she didn’t mind going along with it. She didn’t want to think about what she’d done to Gregor any more than Roy wanted to think about what Gregor had done to him.

Roy moved the space heater so it was directed at Laura, and they sat down to face each other across the cardboard box. The barn smelled like dust and hay, an old smell that made it seem as if no one had been inside for years.

He reached across the box to stroke her cheek with one finger. “The whole time we were sitting here, I kept thinking how gorgeous you were and how frustrated I was that I’d never be able to touch you.”

“I felt the same way,” Laura confessed. “I was completely thrown by how hot you were. Dad had left me a note saying you were a veteran, and for some reason I assumed he meant Vietnam.”

Roy laughed. “Were you picturing Jim Sullivan?”

“Don’t knock Jim; I bet he was hot stuff when he was your age. He has beautiful eyes,” Laura said mischievously. “But yeah, I figured you were over sixty. I was so distracted by how handsome you were and how sexy your voice was, I think I missed the first couple things you said to me.”

She tried to remember what else she’d noticed about Roy, back before she’d known anything about him. “You seemed tired, though. Lost. Like you were somewhere you didn’t belong and you didn’t know how to get back home. I had this image of you trapped behind enemy lines.”

“I felt a bit like that,” Roy said. “You seemed sad. Before you took your scarf off, I thought your face might be scarred.”

“Would it have mattered if it had been?”

“That’d be pretty hypocritical of me, considering all of mine. I was trying to figure out why I felt like you understood me, that’s all.” Roy cupped his hands as if he held a bowl. “We have now traveled back in time—see, here’s the stew. Ask me one of the questions you asked the first time.”

“Why
did
you join the Marines?” Laura asked obligingly. “Other than because of that epic telling-off by Maribel the paramedic.”

“What did I say the first time? To test myself?”

“Yes.” Nearly every exchange on that quasi-first date was burned into her memory.

“That was completely true. I wanted to test myself, to serve my country, and to be the best that I could be. Also, I wanted to make my mother proud instead of making her tear her hair out.” Roy gave her a wry smile. “And yes. Captain America has always been my favorite superhero. Who’s yours? Black Widow?”

“Good guess,” Laura said. “But no. Mystique.”

“The sexy naked villainess,” Roy said. “I can see why you’d identify.”

Laura gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “The kick-ass shapeshifter who tricks everybody.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Roy held up his hands in mock surrender. “Let’s see… Do you really pay for vacations in Las Vegas by playing poker?”

“No. I’m a decent player but I’m not
that
good.”

“Is kale actually a trend?” Roy gave her a warning look. “The truth, now.”

“Sad to say, it is. I hear collard greens are next. Are MREs really as disgusting as you made out?”

Roy stiffened, surprising Laura. She hadn’t imagined that, of all things, would be a sensitive topic. “Some are, some aren’t. It’s more than you get tired of them if you have to eat them constantly, because there isn’t that much variety. I ended up never wanting to even look at one again because…”

“Oh. The Pop-Tart.”

“That, and the three months I spent either opening one and trying to make myself eat it and giving up, or eating it and throwing up later.”

“I’m imagining having stomach flu for months,” Laura said. “It sounds absolutely hellish.”

“That wasn’t even the worst part,” Roy said. “The worst part was trying so hard to make sure no one noticed, and knowing that everyone did anyway. You can’t hide anything on a military base—there’s no privacy at all. It was humiliating and I felt like I was going crazy.”

Laura squeezed his hand. “That’s over, isn’t it? Except for that one day you were sick, I haven’t noticed you having any trouble eating.”

“I think it’s
mostly
over,” Roy said cautiously. “The same thing happened a couple times in the lab—I had a nightmare, and I couldn’t eat for a while afterward. I didn’t tell them why. But it got a lot better once I was out of Afghanistan.”

“If I was getting shot at every day, it would upset my stomach too,” Laura remarked.

“It didn’t used to,” Roy said, sounding slightly indignant. “But yeah, probably. I spent the first couple weeks in the lab flat on my back, stuck full of needles and tubes. Between that and the last couple months in Afghanistan, I ended up seriously underweight, so they put me on a high-calorie diet once I could eat at all. By then I was more motivated to get my strength back, so I ate whatever they gave me. I thought it would make me sick, but it didn’t. All the same, that stew you made for me was the first time I’d enjoyed eating in months.”

“That answers my next question,” Laura said. “I was about to ask if you liked it as much as you made out, or if you thought flattering my cooking would get you into my pants.”

“It was delicious and you should make it again,” Roy said promptly. “
And
I wanted to get into your pants. But seriously, food is such a basic thing, you don’t realize how important it is to be able to enjoy it, at least a little, until you haven’t for a long time. I felt like I’d had this dark cloud over me, and that was the first little bit of sunshine that had come through. I’ll never forget it.”

Laura remembered Roy’s expression when he’d taken that first bite. She had thought it was because it had been so long since he’d had a home-cooked meal. “Sunshine is a good word. You looked radiant.”

“I felt like I’d been gone away forever, and I’d finally come home,” Roy said. “Now, let’s see… Do you really read westerns?”

“Absolutely,” Laura said. “I read everything. Westerns, mysteries, fantasy, romance, you name it. Not much nonfiction. ”

“Me too,” said Roy. “Plus nonfiction and minus romance.”

At the same time, they said, “Except for
Her Fiery Passion
,” and laughed.

“That prank was real, right?” Laura asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got lots of funny stories like that. I’ll tell them to you some time.” Roy looked upward, as if searching the ceiling for the next question, then back at Laura, still smiling. “Right! Are you really from Missouri?”

It was an innocent question, but the answer was such a can of worms that Laura was tempted to say no and name the first state she remembered living in, which was New Jersey. He’d never know the difference. But then she’d have deliberately lied to him, after everything they’d gone through together. It would be the first step toward her wrecking their relationship, exactly like she’d feared.

“I don’t know,” she forced herself to say. “Probably not. I used to think I was from New Jersey, but Dad told me later that I was born in Philadelphia. My birth certificate says Delaware. Once Dad said the certificate was a fake, and once he said it wasn’t. He’s pretty good at keeping track of what he makes up, but in twenty-eight years, you’ll slip up sometimes.”

Roy frowned. “But why would he lie to you?”

“No reason. Lie enough, and you start lying automatically. Lie enough, and you can’t even remember what the truth is.”

He was giving her the pitying look she had been tempted to lie to avoid. “That’s a shame. I’d thought he lied to everyone
but
you.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Laura said, unable to resist defending her father. “I love him. In a lot of ways, he’s great. He may be a crook, but he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. But yeah, I have no idea if anything he says is true. I don’t know where I was born. I don’t know anything about his family. I’m not one hundred percent sure that his name is his real name.”