Weremones (9 page)

Distantly, the telephone rang. He ignored it, knowing instinctively who the caller was, because of past blood shared. He’d make peace later for the compulsion over a beer and pizza. All was as it should be.

Adam closed his eyes and felt for the faint psychic bonds that held him to each member of his pack. He scratched behind the ear of the wolf curled up next to his side and smiled. Time would make the pack bond strong. The Anderson Pack would live and grow strong.

Diana woke up in her car. It was dark out and the motor was running. She didn’t remember anything past doing the dishes after dinner.

Why was she out here? Where was she going?

She killed the engine and got out of the car on shaky legs. She still had the feeling that she should be somewhere important, but couldn’t imagine where.

Inside, Diana set her keys on the counter. On second thought, she moved them to the top of the refrigerator, a place she never put them, and started toward her room. The clock in the living room said eight forty-five. Karen lay sprawled on the couch. Matthew had taken over the coffee table with his summer enrollment college applications.

“Mom?”

Karen watched her from across the room.

Matthew looked up, concern etched on his handsome young face, temporarily erasing his earlier sulk. Diana had re-established the curfew she’d lifted when he had graduated last year. He wasn’t happy about that, but it was her house and her rules.

Otherwise, he could get a job and his own apartment. Apparently, Matthew wanted to stay.

“Mom, you okay?”

Diana smiled and waved their worry away.

“I’m just tired. I think I’ll go lie down.”

She’d pray for no more dreams. No more wolves running through the forest. No more blood covering everything. No more calling to her, demanding her to come.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she called behind her and escaped to the dark sanctuary of her room.

———

Diana sat outside on her patio lounger, enjoying the cheerful light of morning, her coffee, and two large banana muffins that would doubtless find a place on her hips.

All week she’d slept through the night without getting up, as evidenced by the latch she’d placed high on the door jam. If she had gotten up, then maybe the extra lock had sent her back to bed. That was the theory. Any dreams were peaceful and forgotten upon waking.

Yes, she was paranoid. Monday’s excursion to the car had frightened her.

Sleepwalking was one thing, but sleep driving would be like putting a drunk behind the wheel. She was trying to be a safe sleepwalker rather than sorry where she woke up.

This morning she was content to just be.

She closed her eyes, feeling the morning warm up. Somewhere above in the pecan tree, a squirrel argued with a woodpecker that had invaded his territory.

Ratt-tatt-tatt. Chatter-squeal-chatter. Ratt-tatt-tatt.

Soon summer would be here and the laughter and arguments of children would drift over her backyard all week long Diana remembered her own children doing the same. She’d married Richard so young. Neither one of them had been ready for children. All Richard had wanted was to move up in the ranks of business and a pretty young wife to adore him.

Richard had gotten his promotions. The pretty young wife who’d supported him while he worked his way up the ranks had put on weight. A lot of weight.

And the children that he’d never really wanted in the first place had needs and demands that he couldn’t fill. They were holding him back, so Richard Ridley left, moving in with his new girlfriend Laina the Lawyer.

Laina had been a much better lawyer than the one Diana could afford.

The Dick.

Well, these days the ex-wife was fifty pounds lighter. The kids were nearly grown and two months ago, Laina had left Richard for a younger, much prettier lady police officer, who, according to Matthew, was a hell of shot at the gun range.

All Diana had to say was:
You go girl!

Diana grinned.

As sayings went, forget ‘
time heals all wounds’.
‘
What goes around comes around’
, felt really good about now.

A faint sound pulled Diana from her musing. She sat up and brushed crumbs from her tee shirt. She looked around. Not seeing anyone, she leaned back against the cushion.

The trashcan rattled and a dog yelped as it fell over. Diana jerked back up, staring at a large dark brown husky. A lighter brown and white pattern around his jowls and eyes gave him personality. The dog looked so affronted at the fallen can that she chuckled.

The dog froze, its dark eyes focused on her, stilling her laughter. It—
he
—tensed as if to run away.

She stared and realized the dog wasn’t a husky. He wasn’t a dog either. She wondered which one he was.

“Hey, fella.”

Diana didn’t look him in the eyes. That was a bad thing to do.

She’d been checking up on wolves on the internet late at night. She found basic information on wolf packs, their social structure, and communication. Very informative stuff. So far, she was still confused on how to interpret what traits and instincts, human or wolf, would be dominant.

“Did you stop by for breakfast?” she crooned and carefully reached for the extra muffin balanced on one thigh. “I made muffins.”

She broke it in half, scattering crumbs all over her lap. Diana held a muffin half out. Her sane half derided her as nine kinds of idiot. He was a werewolf. Was she insulting him by treating him like a skittish dog? She seemed to do that a lot.

And if he was insulted and bit her, would she be heading off to the emergency room for an anti-werewolf shot? Probably not. Diana only knew of one shy, skittish werewolf.

Brandon stretched out a dark muzzle and sniffed. He took a tentative step toward her.

Did a werewolf remember what he did as a wolf when he turned back into a man? It was much too early for that kind of convoluted thinking. She decided to go with the flow.

“You want it, don’t you? Come on. You know that I make the best muffins.”

He took several more steps toward her, each one bolder that the last.

A series of sharp barks halted the brown wolf. They both turned to look at the newcomer.

Another wolf, this one was huge and vibrantly healthy. She’d thought the brown was big. This newcomer was easily the size of a Great Dane. He was beautiful, all pale cream and silver with pale blue eyes. She didn’t really have any doubts about who his alter ego was.

The pale wolf barked an order again at the brown. Brandon lowered his head and whined. If size difference and attitude hadn’t already clued their identities, then the cream and silver wolf’s authority pegged him as Adam Weis. That and the fur coloration.

“Hey, big guy. I’ve got another piece,” she called.

She was already breaking rule number one for wild wolves by offering food. She reached out a hand, palm first to the pale wolf so that he could get her scent.

He had no reservations about approaching her. In fact, he nudged away her empty hand, going for the muffin. Just like a man. Food first, then everything else.

She stayed very still, riveted by the beauty of the creature.

The wolf’s ringed blue eyes conveyed the man’s intelligence and power. Gently, the he took the muffin from her palm, wolfing it down in one swallow. A swipe of his tongue over her palm conveyed thanks.

He barked at the brown wolf to come. Diana handed the muffin over to the skittish creature. She got a lick on the hand for that treat, as well.

Diana held her fingers out to the alpha wolf once more. He sniffed, and deigned to let her touch him. She curled her fingers into his thick fur.

“I’ve never been much for dogs. But you guys are amazing.” She kept her voice low, but the care wasn’t needed anymore.

Other than a growly wuff of protest at the dog remark, Adam trusted her.

Brandon, she noted was easy. For half of a muffin, his nervousness faded and he allowed her to rub his head and scratch under his chin.

“You like that, hmmm?”

———

The woman’s inane chatter as she stroked and cooed over Brandon finally drove Adam to interfere.

She jumped when Adam stuck his nose in her lap, snuffling for crumbs. His warm tongue caught pieces of muffin that slid into the seam of her crotch. She gently moved him away.

“Not on the first date.” She scratched him on the head, laughing. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

Adam barked at Brandon when the pup got too comfortable and tried to climb on the lounger with her. Adam nosed at the pup to take some of the sting out of his rebuke, and to get him out from under the lounger where he’d taken cover.

Adam kept his post, patiently waiting for her to pick up on petting him again. If he could get her to get that spot behind the ear again … he bumped her hand with his head once more.

She laughed again at their antics and fussed at the big one.

“Oh, I get it. You can’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong so he can’t sit up here.”

The big guy looked so affronted that she grinned and leaned over to place an impulsive kiss on his nose. He went very still.

“It’s all right,” she stage whispered in his attentive ears. “I don’t think the lounger would hold all of us anyway.”

She felt a warm tongue slowly glide from her collarbone to the sensitive area behind her ear. He moved back, watching her so intently that she forgot not to stare into his eyes. Her entire body tingled. She placed a hand over the damp kiss and watched the two race across her backyard. The pale alpha paused, a break in his graceful stride, and barked over his shoulder in her direction.

I’ll be back,
he seemed to say.

Adam set down his hammer to put an end to the incessant chirping coming from his belt.

“Adam Weis?”

Wary? Yep. That would be one way to explain his sudden craving for a bottle of antacid. Or two.

What had Mark done now?

The sharp shards of the woman’s voice lodged at the base of his neck.

“This is Ms. Whitmire. Mark’s history and language teacher.”

Adam sighed. Ms. Whitmire, his arch-nemesis. So far the score tallied, Adam Weis, supernatural bad-ass: zero. Ms. Whitmire, sixth grade History and Language instructor: Ten parent/teacher conferences and three phone calls a week.

“Yes?”

“You need to come to the school and meet with the principal.”

Of course he did, Adam thought sourly. He had his own chair and everything in Mr. Lang’s office.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s happened this time, Ms. Whitmire?”

“Skateboarding stunts. Sliding down the banister. Back flips and cartwheels, Mr. Weis. Unsafe acts that could get him and others hurt.”

Damn. She had him there. Adam knew he should have confiscated that board when he saw it going out the door this morning.

“Are you aware Mr. Weis, that skateboards are not allowed on school property?

“I understand, Ms. Whitmire.”

Ms. Whitmire’s voice sneered back at him. He imagined her looking down her nose at him. The cold pinpoints of her eyes. He shuddered. That was one
scary
lady.

Adam placated the woman. He’d buy Mark a helmet. He hung up and thought about going to the school to pick up the confiscated skateboard and then realized the lesson value in letting Mark stew over the loss of his prized possession.

———

Call 911!”

Shouting and the scent of burnt skin and ozone jolted Adam out of his funk over the call. He ran to the commotion and shouldered past the small crowd of six men hovering over two on the concrete floor. One man kneeled over the one stretched out prone.

“What happened?”

Adam crouched down beside his electrician Barry, unconscious on the ground.

The man was the source of the burnt smell. Mack, the foreman, checked Barry’s vital signs. Adam looked for, but didn’t see Barry take a breath. Not even a faint shallow one.

He didn’t dare interrupt whatever Mack was doing for the man. Adam’s medical knowledge was suited to his own kind. Humans were too fragile for him to bumble one.

Calm and professional, Mack had gotten his first aid training while fighting in dangerous places Adam had never heard of. In the wall in front of them, the electrical box smoldered. Its blackened remains testified to the cause of the accident.

Adam heard one of the men give directions to the nine-one-one operator via a cell phone while the other men looked on. Without a word, Mack cleared Barry’s airway, took a deep breath, and started CPR. Adam scrambled back out of the way.

He felt helpless watching Mack take turns breathing into Barry, then shove on the man’s chest to get his heart started again. Mack’s movements flowed in a strong and sure pattern. Breathe first, make the heart beat, then breathe again.

Please God, let him live.
Adam looked on and prayed. He breathed in time to Mack’s movements, willing life into Barry.

“One minute Barry was hooking up the two-twenty for the stove and dryer, the next he was getting shocked. I thought Mack had gone crazy, knocking him down with that board ...
the ambulance.”

T. J., one of the framing guys, hammer still in hand, fell silent and stared at Barry.

The downed man twitched and made a protesting sound. Mack backed off his ministrations to check Barry’s weak vitals.

A sigh of relief escaped every man.

“Oh.
Thank God.”

T. J.’s pronouncement was seconded by everyone of the men, whatever his faith, then, he turned and hurried to the entrance to show the paramedics the way. Another of the men shuffled his feet, and then hurried after his fellow crewman.

There wasn’t anything anyone but Mack and the paramedics could do for Barry right now.

———

“What happened?”

Barry Miller’s wife, Candace, stopped Adam as he came out of the emergency examining area. Standing a few inches over five feet, she met his eyes with a forced calm that made him want to squirm.

“He was electrocuted.”

Adam pushed on through to the examining area.

“You go and take care of your husband. I’ll take care of the rest.”