My Sister Is a Werewolf (11 page)

She thought to tell him no. There was no point in him knowing that she needed the cure—in some ways, worse than anyone. But she found the truth tumbling over her lips.

“Yes.”

The one hand, still holding her waist, slipped upward, out from under the covers. He caressed her cheek, the touch heartbreakingly sweet, the look in his eyes just tragic.

“The fever is part of it?”

For her it was. Her fever usually spiked to around 106 degrees, which always happened after her shift. She’d spent many a day after the full moon nursing a terrible werewolf hangover. Some werewolves could shift without any repercussions. She wasn’t one of them.

She nodded. “But that always passes. I won’t die from this... disease—I just won’t have a normal life. I—I’d really rather not talk about it.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but then he nodded.

They were silent for a moment, but then he seemed to remember he had more questions to ask.

“So if this isn’t your normal way of approaching men—”

She frowned, at first surprised by the change of topic. Then she rose up on her elbow, catching the sheet to her chest. “It isn’t. Honestly.”

Why it was important to her that he know she wasn’t a hussy made little to no sense when the truth was, she was practically a husky. Which was worse?

“Since this isn’t your normal way of approaching a man, how did you pick me?”

She stared at him for a moment, taking in his mussed short hair, his gorgeous eyes, his mouth. She managed to keep her eyes from drifting lower, but she knew what an awesome body he had. Instead, her eyes returned to his.

She could see intelligence, kindness, humor there. His looks definitely drew her—but it was what she saw in his forest eyes that made her feel like she could easily get in too deep. Those eyes were what made her pick him. But she couldn’t say that. It revealed too much.

Instead she said airily, “I saw you and wanted you.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth. Not by a long shot.

He smiled slightly at that, then nodded. “I guess that’s fair enough. Because I felt the same way.”

“You did?”

His smile turned to that lopsided curl she loved. “You haven’t noticed?”

She hesitated as she felt heat creep up her cheeks. “I sort of thought you found yourself attacked.” She tried not to think about the potentially real attack of last night.

“Oh, you made your intentions very clear, but I think I’ve done my fair share of attacking back.”

He leaned in and kissed her. Soft and sweet and lingering. A very different sort of attack but just as effective. Even as she told herself to pull away, to let him go, she sank into his arms. The sheet slid down so her bare breasts were pressed firmly to his hard chest. Their arms and legs tangled until there was no space between them.

Jensen pressed several small kisses to her lips before he angled his head back to look at her. “I have one more question. Although this one is a bit late in coming—and my only excuse is that when I’m with you I really do forget everything else.”

“What?”

“Are you on birth control? Because we have been woefully negligent in that area.”

Birth control. She paused. She’d never even considered it as she’d never used it. Never needed it. Female werewolves could only conceive when they were in heat. And she couldn’t conceive with Jensen at all.

“Yes. I am.” That was her first outright lie to his questions. Although she wasn’t going to get pregnant, so was it really a lie?

“Good,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her again. But she couldn’t respond as she had before. The weight of what they’d been doing, what she was, and her past were too heavy for her to ignore.

“I think I do have to use the bathroom.”

He smiled. “I guess you held out for a pretty long time.”

She nodded, not really knowing what to say. She didn’t feel quippy at the moment, just guilty and miserable. She started to slide out of the bed, then realized she was naked. She looked around for something to put on.

Jensen guessed what she was doing and rolled over to retrieve something from the floor. He held out a mass of wrinkled blue material.

“It’s still damp, but it will work to get you to the bathroom.”

“T
hank
s.” She reached for it, but he pulled it back at the last minute, leaning forward to steal another kiss. Another of his sweet, heady kisses that she knew she’d never get tired of.

She forced herself to pull away. “Bathroom.”

He nodded and handed her the shirt. The material was chilly and a little difficult to pull on, the moisture making it stick to her skin. But she managed and scrambled out of bed. She didn’t look back at Jensen as she fled the room.

Jensen watched Elizabeth go, feeling overwhelmed by her. Physically, emotionally, even mentally. She had answered his questions, but with each question he had more. Not the least of which being, what was wrong with her? What disease did she have?

There were many illnesses that could cause fever. And was she lying when she said that it wouldn’t be fatal? Certainly she’d been working like she was running out of time, if she’d somehow staggered out there in the buff. He could tell she was stressed and she seemed a little scared, and that worried him.

No—
worried
wasn’t the right word. It scared the hell out of him.

Suddenly he had to see her. He had to know that she was all right. The need swirled in him, growing more and more until it was all he could do to remain on the bed and wait for her to return.

As if barging into the bathroom would help her in any way. Still, he felt anxious, like something dangerous lurked just outside the perimeter of their fragile world. A place where it was just the two of them.

The two of them.
Hell, he didn’t even know if that was what she wanted. He had no more answers about their relationship than when he’d arrived here. In fact, he had more. For every answer she’d given him, another question popped into his brain.

Hell, he hadn’t even gotten the one answer he’d wanted most. He didn’t know what she wanted from him. Did they even have a relationship? She hadn’t said one way or the other. Why had she chosen him? He wanted to believe it was for a reason.

Again, the idea that she was sick jumped back into his mind. Then he was reminded of what he’d thought he’d seen. How she’d appeared almost—inhuman when he’d first found her in the barn. How strong her impact had been when she’d barreled against him.

He sat up, another wave of agitation flooding him. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. He must have imagined what he thought he saw. There was no other valid explanation. After all, there wasn’t a disease that transformed you into some sort of...

He shook his head. He’d imagined it. Tricks of light. And she’d caught him off balance. That was it.

His eyes locked on the half-closed bedroom door. He listened for some noise to indicate she was okay. But the house was quiet.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He crawled out of bed and tugged on his damp jeans. He wanted to ask her more. But he paused with his hand on the door, realizing he could hardly grill this woman for more answers while she was using the bathroom. He didn’t know much about the state of their relationship, but he did know they weren’t there yet.

He paced the room instead. Looking around, trying to know more about her. Everything was very tidy. Everything in its proper place. She had a wooden box on her dresser, carved with leaves and flowers. The box looked old, and he suspected it was an antique. A jewelry box, he guessed.

There was also a bottle of perfume. This, too, looked old, the liquid inside a golden color. He lifted the bottle to his nose. He grimaced at the scent—cloying and slightly off. Definitely not the scent that always seemed to surround her. That wonderful spicy scent. Strong yet somehow not overwhelming.

He put the bottle back, careful to place it in the exact spot where it had been. He turned and wandered across the floor again. On the walls were several needlepoint pictures. He walked up to them, studying the precise stitches, the intricacy involved. The person who did these had to be very patient, very focused. Then he noticed tiny initials along the bottom of the picture on the right. EY.

Could Elizabeth have done these? He moved to the next. The initials appeared on all of them. EY. Some of them seemed to be quite old, the cloth yellowed in the frames. He supposed that could be caused by sun damage or other factors. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off the one over her bed. It looked very old. Fragile, almost.

A sound caused him to look away. A thump that seemed far away. Downstairs, maybe. He frowned, then glanced at the door. How long had she been gone? A long time.

Again, a feeling that something wasn’t right snaked through him. A cold feeling. An unnerving feeling.

He decided it wouldn’t hurt to just go to the bathroom and knock. She might find it a little invasive, but he was driven by the need to be sure she was okay.

As soon as he stepped into the hallway, he knew something wasn’t right. The bathroom door was wide open, and the light was off. He walked down to peer into the darkened room. Empty, as expected.

“Elizabeth?” he called as he started back down the hall, stopping at each room, hoping she was there.

The upstairs was empty. He hurried back to her bedroom to finish dressing, only to realize she’d taken his shirt when she left. He hoped that was a good thing. He then bounded down the stairs, hoping she’d just gone to get something to drink or eat. But he had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

The living room was empty, as was the dining room. He strode into the kitchen hoping he’d find her, even as he told himself he wouldn’t.

He didn’t. The light was on over the large, round kitchen table, but otherwise there was no sign anyone had been there. He walked farther into the room, anyway.

“Elizabeth?”

As he got to the center of the kitchen, he spotted a yellow sticky note, stuck to the middle of the table. He hesitated, not sure he wanted to look at it. Even though he knew it was a note for him.

The yellow paper was indeed marked with small, precise, very feminine writing.

Jensen,

I’m sorry I’m saying this the way I am.

But this isn’t going to work out.

I cannot see you again. I’m sorry.

E.

Jensen stared at the yellow paper, the adhesive sticking to the pads of his fingers. She’d done it again—her usual disappearing act. Only this time, he did have an answer.

They didn’t have a relationship. That much he finally got, loud and clear. And he wasn’t getting his shirt back.

Chapter 11

E
lizabeth stood in the woods, watching her house. After what seemed like ages, Jensen stepped out onto her porch. The first thing she noticed was that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Then she recalled that was because she wore his shirt, and she felt even worse about her actions. Even though they had been the right ones. She couldn’t see him anymore. Not when she was what she was.

Last night, she could have really hurt him. It was sheer luck she hadn’t. It certainly hadn’t been something she’d controlled. She didn’t even know why it happened, and she couldn’t risk it happening again. Lycanthropy was easy to transmit, and she couldn’t risk passing it on to him. Then he would really hate her.

She watched as he cast a glance around, still looking for her, even after the cold and impersonal note. Given the repeated impressions she must have made on this man, she couldn’t begin to understand why he kept looking for her. She certainly hadn’t done anything to make him think she was worth his time. Still, the idea that even now he wanted her made it nearly impossible to remain there, hiding, watching.

But she did, keeping her muscles absolutely still, barely even pulling in a breath. She wasn’t sure if that was because she didn’t want him to detect her, or if it was because she was too busy trying to commit Jensen to memory.

His skin looked more golden in the early morning light, his muscles undulating easily with his strides down the steps. He glanced at the barn, then, to her surprise, he headed in that direction. He entered, but only stayed inside a few moments. Long enough to see she wasn’t there. Then he strode to his truck.

She opened her mouth, the urge to stop him almost making her cry out. But instead, she snapped her lips shut, biting the inside of her cheek until the pain of the squeezed flesh almost overshadowed the pain of watching Jensen leave.

Almost.

She
was
doing the right thing. Even if he could get over dating a woman who turned a little hairy and toothy once a month, she still had the equally monumental problem of being mated. The two problems together were insurmountable.

You are doing the right thing. Until you are free of this curse, you have to let him go.

She knew it was true. But that didn’t make the pain any less crippling.

Brody watched the scene, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction. That was his Lizzie. His good girl. The one who always did what was right.

He’d seen her pain, the nearly crushing yearning that had burned deep inside her for the past two days. She’d been half-insane with her desire for that pathetic mortal. But she would have stayed away. His Lizzie was nothing if not strong. She was nothing if not moral.

He paced back and forth, watching her. Wanting her. Not with the same unbridled lust she’d felt for the mortal loser. No, he wanted her like he always did, with a selfish need to taint her. To dirty what she was. He knew he was little more than scum. He was okay with that. He just wanted to make sure he took others down with him. Scum or not, that made him powerful. That made him the one in control. That’s why the pack cast him out. He was a threat. And with Lizzie back at his side, he was a threat with real power.

He considered going to her now. But he’d wait. He didn’t want her with that weak mortal’s scent still clinging to her skin. But he was relieved that this time the scent—the smell that could have ruined all of his plans—was gone. Not even a hint of the spicy odor drifted through the air.

Maybe he’d imagined it. It wasn’t as if it was possible. A werewolf and a human? No, it wasn’t possible.

The truck rolled down the dirt road, but Elizabeth didn’t move from her hiding spot. Brody watched her. Trying to read her.

Maybe now was the time to approach her. He’d only waited because of what he thought that scent meant. He couldn’t take her back to the pack if she was just going to run again. Back to the mortal. But now, he could sense this was the end. There was a hopelessness radiating from her.

But Brody still didn’t approach her as she finally stepped out of the woods and crossed her lawn to the house. He’d give her a little time—to mourn her loss. A loss he did not understand.

But never let it be said that he didn’t do a nice thing for Lizzie. Of course, he was just giving the situation time, to make sure she didn’t crack and go to the human. He wouldn’t have the pack seeing that his woman had left, again, and this time for a weak human.

And if she did give in and go back, he’d handle that. He couldn’t kill her. But the human—yeah, he could die.

Jensen nodded at his granddad, trying not to look like a teenager busted after curfew as he entered the kitchen and headed straight for the back hall and the stairs. A damned hard thing to do when he was walking into the house at nine A.M. with no shirt on.

“Wait! Where the hell have you been?” his grandfather asked.

“Out.” Jensen did not want to explain this.

“I know that. Where’s your shirt?”

“Gone.”

His grandfather frowned, his brows coming together in a nearly straight, if somewhat bushy, line. “You need to be more forthcoming here, Jensen.”

“Nothing to tell, Granddad. I need to get in to work.”

His grandfather gave him a look that was somewhere between dubious and disappointed.

“When a fella stays out all night and returns home without his shirt, and there’s no story in that, then that is one dull man.”

Jensen nodded. “That’s me. Dull to the core.”

His grandfather crossed his arms over his chest, looking for all the world as if he planned to pout.

Jensen glanced at his watch. “Gotta get ready. I don’t want to be late.”

He left his grandfather indeed pouting, but that was too bad. Jensen had no intention of telling him about his complete failure with the first woman who’d captured his attention since Katie. He couldn’t do it. As it was, he just wanted to forget himself.

As luck would have it, Granddad was gone when Jensen had come down from his shower. And although his grandfather’s disappearance wasn’t unusual, he was probably out on the links griping about his weird grandson to that damned Harold Wilks. Jensen couldn’t help feeling a little deserted again.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself as he filled his metal travel mug to the brim with black coffee. He hadn’t wanted to continue his conversation with his granddad, anyway. Plus, he’d wanted the time to consider what he’d noticed in Elizabeth’s barn. Thick chains and heavy manacles anchored to the rafters. He’d seen them when he’d gone in that last time to look for her. What were they? Did she put them up there? And for what purpose?

He had no answers. None that made any sense. But he wasn’t making sense, anyway. He was offended that his grandfather disappeared, even though when that’s what he’d wanted. But then, disappearing people were a sore spot today.

He grabbed the newspaper, stuffed it under his arm, then picked up his coffee and his laptop and left for the office.

Pulling up to the small building that housed his office, he told himself he needed to concentrate on the vet hospital. He was trying to get the place online, the records put into the computer as well as the appointments. His grandfather had resisted all that, but Jensen knew it would make things easier and more efficient. That was what he needed to focus on—not some woman who had as many issues as he did, and clearly didn’t want him.

He walked into the office and was greeted by Molly George, the receptionist who’d been working for his grandfather for nearly twenty years. Molly had a habit of trying to mother him. Jensen supposed that was the risk he’d run being a motherless kid, raised by his granddad. Everyone felt the need to mother him.

“You are late,” Molly said, peering at him over the top of her bifocals. “I almost called the hospital.”

Jensen smiled, shaking his head. “Always try my cell phone before the hospital.”

He pulled his phone out to show her he had it with him. And also to show her what it was. Molly was as resistant to technology as Granddad.

She raised an eyebrow to that, then looked down at the appointment book. “Luckily your first appointment is late.”

As if cued by Molly’s comment, the bell on the front door rang as the patient and owner entered. Jensen turned to see Melanie, holding a very fat, very satisfied-looking tabby.

“Hi, Jensen,” she said, offering him a warm smile. A smile that he couldn’t help noticing still held that hint of interest.

His battered ego perked up at the look.

“Hi there, Melanie.” He approached her, reaching out to the cat, scratching his neck and ears. “Who is this?”

“Mort,” she said with a fond smile at the animal. “He’s in for his shots. And maybe a diet, too.”

“He is a big boy,” Jensen agreed.

“Well, as I told you, while I do love it here, I tend to be a little lonely. So I think I may dote on him a bit too much.”

Jensen nodded at that, picking up on the mention of her being lonely. He didn’t comment, however. Instead, he turned to Molly.

“My first patient is in.”

“I see that,” she said, eyeing Melanie rather than the cat.

Jensen gestured for Melanie to go ahead into the exam room. She did, saying hello to Molly on the way.

“I’ll make sure you are not interrupted,” Molly called after him as he followed the blonde and her obese cat.

He didn’t miss Molly’s pointed look as he closed the door.

Was everyone in this town a damned matchmaker?

Melanie set Mort on the table and smiled at Jensen.

He smiled back, noticing her blond ponytail and fresh-faced beauty. In truth, it was hard to imagine she was finding West Pines lonely. She should have lots of dates.

He turned to the counter where all his supplies were stored, as well as a sink and other necessities for a veterinarian’s exam room. He got his stethoscope and otoscope, and crossed over to Mort. And Melanie.

She cooed to the cat, helping hold the beast while he checked the cat’s ears and eyes. He noticed that Melanie had a nice voice, a little high. Higher than Elizabeth’s huskier tone.

He frowned as he continued to examine the cat. He’d told himself he was just going to let Elizabeth go. There was no point thinking about her. The yellow Post-it note said it all. She didn’t want to see him again. There was nowhere to go with that. Nowhere. So what was the point of thinking about her? He hardly knew her, anyway.

And in truth, she wasn’t his type. He glanced at Melanie, who continued to murmur at her cat. Brian and Jill had been right when they’d asked her to join them that night at the karaoke bar. She was his type.

And now that he was back on the horse, so to speak, then maybe he should consider asking her out.

“Looks good,” he told her as he left to go prepare the feline’s inoculations, and by the time he’d returned to the room, he’d decided a date with Melanie held a lot of merit.

As he injected the cat with the first of three shots, and the large animal laid back his ears and shot him a look designed to kill, he asked Melanie offhandedly, “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in going out this Friday night?”

Elizabeth stood in the middle of her kitchen, trying to remember why she’d come into the room. She kept doing this—headed somewhere with something in mind, but when she got there, she had no idea what she’d been after. It was frustrating—and it was unnerving.

She wandered back to the living room and sat down on the couch. She reached for the TV remote and flipped the set on. Conversation filled the room, followed by an irritating laugh track. She turned the television off.

God, why couldn’t she focus? Why couldn’t she seem to think straight at all? She got up and paced the room. She was surprised the wood floor didn’t have a path worn into it. She couldn’t concentrate on anything. Anything but Jensen.

She hadn’t seen him for three days. Every day it grew harder to stay away. But she knew she had to—she couldn’t risk shifting around him again.

She knew she had to work on her research, too, but she hadn’t gotten much of anything done. She was clumsy and distracted, and all she managed to do was make a mess of any of her still-viable cell samples. Now she’d have to wait to draw more blood right before the full moon. That was when the cell definition was most apparent. That was the blood she needed.

So all she did was pace and fixate, but this agitation wasn’t like it had been. Her body, while it did miss Jensen, didn’t feel like it had a life of its own. Now, she just felt like she... missed him. She wanted to see him and talk to him. And yes, touch him, too. But...

Suddenly the phone rang, the loud jingle in the quiet house actually causing her to jump.

“Hello?” she said breathily into the receiver, once she’d managed to calm herself enough to answer it.

“Hey, sis.” It was Sebastian.

Elizabeth tamped down the disappointment at hearing her brother’s voice. She didn’t want it to be Jensen. She didn’t. What good would it do if it was?

“Hi, Sebastian. How are you?”