Season of the Wolf Pt. 02

Han's wolf growls and it's a menacing sound vibrating the air. His muscles coil and he unleashes his fury at Van. Van is too fast and Han stumbles to the ground. Van is on him, trapping his muzzle closed in a tight grip. Han is too old of a wolf to fall for the trick and in a flash and whirlwind of preternatural magic the wolf becomes a man.

Van didn't anticipate Han's sudden change of forms and is thrown by the surge of power. Scrabbling for leverage to keep Han pinned beneath him, he fails and gives Han the advantage he needs. Han shifts and it happens so quickly the change is nothing but a blur to the naked eye. His wolf goes for the most vulnerable part of the prey, the throat. Van is panting and motionless, his head thrust up at an unnatural angle by the presence of Han's razor sharp canines holding his neck under siege.

Han could easily rip out Van's throat, but he doesn't. The glimmer of humanity is there, in Han's golden wolfish eyes. A part of me wants Han to finish Van. To rend and tear flesh from bone and consume as is the wolf's way. But, the human side of my innermost self feels pity and abject horror over the idea of such violence.

Van grips Han's foreleg in a painful grasp and I choke at the sound of snapping bone. He's broken Han's leg...or I guess if Han were in human form, it'd be his arm. His wolf yips in pain and releases its hold on Van's neck. Being a creature of preternatural abilities has its benefits. Han draws power from the pack and I feel the golden thread that connects each and every one of us flowing to him lending him our combined strength. What would take a human weeks to heal, Han recovers from in a matter of seconds. But, it's just enough of a delay to give Van the upper hand.

Van knows a wolf's most vulnerable point. He grips Han from behind, lifting him off the ground and squeezing with his powerful forearms locked around Han's ribcage. Han's wolf scrabbles for escape, clawing at the open air with wildly flaying paws. Han can't draw breath to fuel his rage. He's beginning to falter. Panic...his panic...my panic...I don't know which, surges through me. There's not a glimpse of humanity or reason remaining in Van's eyes. He has become a beast...a vampire and is no longer a man. Van bares his fangs and sinks them into Han's throat.

I'm screaming and twisting out of Coyote's grip. Coyote tries to contain me, dropping me to the ground with his arms wrapped around my calves restraining my legs. His weight holding me down feeds the flames of my rage. The shift is on me and I can't begin to control it. "Goddamn it, Grace," Coyote shouts. But, his words don't register to my wolf's mind. My last fleeting human thoughts are for Han and how unfair this staged display of power truly is.

A lone wolf won't survive for very long alone because it'll starve to death. Wolves hunt in tandem, each one picking away at the prey until it succumbs. Vampires are solitary creatures perfectly suited to hunting alone. That is their greatest strength. Wolves are not. We function as a unit, the one benefiting the whole and that is our best advantage.

Coyote wisely rolls out of my path as my wolf finishes the task of taking over my human form. My human mind is in the backdrop and for once, I'm glad to relinquish control of this body to her. I need her instincts and her brutality to do what she does best, be the beast she is.

The she wolf bounds out of the boundary of bodies that is her brothers and sisters. Her mate is in trouble. He needs her. She lends him her strength through the golden threads that unite them as one. She is speed and power and relentless instinct. Her muscles coil and she releases her attack. Barreling in from the flank, the vampire can't defend himself and maintain his hold on her mate. She goes in low, sinking her sharp incisors into the first piece of enemy flesh that she can. Ripping and tearing, shaking her massive jaws she takes a hunk out of the enemy. Her mate rolls as he is thrown from the vampire's hold. Her back claws scrabble in the dewy grass for purchase as the vampire unleashes his fury, rage, and pain on her.

Blood from his wounds flows down her throat. She chokes on the taste and looses her precious hold on his pound of flesh. The she wolf circles the vampire, crouching low, close to the ground. Her ears are flattened against her head and her fur stands on end. Her growl is low and rumbling, not threatening, but promising with a flash of razor sharp canine teeth. Her stance is wide, muscles coiled as she scouts for a vulnerable point in which to attack. Spotting the most fragile point in any male of any species, she barrels forward to release her wrath.

The vampire has an advantage no wolf could ever compensate for. Rather than fight her and risk bringing down the wrath of dozens of pissed off werewolves down on his head, and/or losing his manhood to the wolf, he runs. The she wolf gives chase bolting on his heels as he flees for the trees. In a series of movements as graceful as flowing water tumbling down rock, he climbs the first tall tree he comes to. Staring down at her from his perch unblinking as she paces the wide trunk and growls up at him.

The world is fuzzy and my body is one big throbbing pulse point of misery from the rapid shift. I blink and wonder how in the hell or rather what in the hell I'm doing here in the woods face down in the leaves piled by the wind around the base of an old oak tree. I exhale in relief as I see Coyote helping Han make his way to me. Other than being naked, smudged with mud, and a bit bruised and battered. He seems perfectly fine. "Han!"

I feel the packs' eyes on me from the darkness of the woods. The vampires are watching too, from the deepest of the shadows. Everything is quiet, unnaturally still as it is when there are predators about. "Oh," I gasp as I check out my unclothed state. I'm providing everyone with a good show. Self-consciously, I draw my knees up to my chest and cover my most vulnerable parts.

Han nudges Coyote ahead and limps behind him at as fast a pace as his battered, but healing, body will go. Coyote is chuckling mockingly at me and pulling off his shirt to hand it to me so I can at the very minimum have a modicum of my dignity back. There's a strange taste in my mouth, sort of coppery, like blood but sweeter. I wonder if my wolf ate one of those radioactive rabbits everyone is always joking about. Unceremoniously, I spit on the ground and try to clear away the taste lingering on my tongue.

I snatch Coyote's shirt out of his hand and thrust my arms through the sleeves. The cloth is warm and smells of wolf and the smoky scent of burning hickory chips and sweet fermenting grains. I wish I didn't take such comfort in the warmth or the smell and I duck my head to hide my shame and embarrassment that I do. Coyote is shaking his head and has burst into gales of laughter as he looks up into the tree and back down at me. "Congratulations, Grace. You've treed a vampire."

"What?" I groan as my wolf more than happily fills in the blanks with mental images of what she did while she was at the helm of our shared body. I bit Van in the ass. In. The. Ass. At least, that explains the taste on my tongue. It's vampire blood and the thought of it...that I had to have ingested some as I sank my teeth into his backside sickens me. I'm blushing brilliant red as I realize my wolf's intended target. I guess I'll have to be more careful of when I give my wolf complete control and around whom. My wolf was about to bite Van somewhere a bit more precious to him than his ass.

Doggedly, I glance up. Van is about twenty feet high and clinging precariously to the tree's thin upper branches. I wonder if there is a way to salvage his dignity and mine as well. It's dark but I can see him glaring down at me plainly enough. There's a tear in his pants and a patch of pale flesh shines through as brightly as a full moon.

Someone in the crowd lent Han a shirt. He has wrapped the sleeves around his waist and tied them tightly. The plaid shirt stopping just above his knees and flapping in the wind resembles a kilt. I try to take my cues from him. Surely, I'm not the first wolf to bite someone in the ass. But, from the humor overshadowing his concern for me, I wonder if perhaps, I am.

I'm on my feet, running my hands over Han's torso and checking for wounds. "You're ok," I sigh in relief. Coyote backs off as Han takes me in his arms and tilts my chin to meet my eyes. He frowns at whatever he sees and kisses me on the tip of my nose. I've never seen wolves fight before. I was terrified and so afraid. I think he realizes this and in his realization how very human I still am. He hugs me tightly. "I'm fine. That was just a scuff."

"A scuff?" I gasp and I'm trembling. Doubts assault me as I realize that if what I witnessed was a scuff how much more violent and bloody is the real thing? I cling to Han and all of my shame over taking comfort in Coyote's warmth and scent and sinking my wolf's teeth into Van's backside melts away to nothing. Tears fall and roll in heated streaks down my cheeks. I'm crying and I don't know if the tears are tears of relief or of dread over what might happen next.

"Hey." Han's voice is as soft as the trace of the pads of his thumbs over my cheeks. He sponges away my tears. I'm clutching the sleeves of the shirt bundled around his waist and running my palms over his chest. He's whole and unharmed. Whatever force it is that makes us what we are has healed him completely. What I saw tonight would have killed a human. But, Han has walked away with barely a scratch. "I'm ok." He's holding me, rocking me gently back and forth in his arms whispering to me. "I'm ok, Grace."

Han glances up and beckons Van to climb down out of the tree. I blush madly in shame over what I've done. I can't meet him in the eye as he looks in my direction. His smile is strained and forced. I don't blame him for being angry with me. I'm pretty upset with myself right now. Han releases me and I can see though he wants to stay with me his attentions are needed elsewhere. My little stunt has made Van look like a fool in front of his people and caused a rift amongst the ranks. Han needs to go to Van and smooth over this mess I've made. I nod and watch Han disappear into the darkness of the woods on Van's heels.

Coyote digs in his hip pocket and triumphantly pulls out a wadded napkin. Peeling aside the folds, he reveals his treasure. His expression is pitying and filled with sympathetic understanding. Coyote is hard on me when it's warranted, but he can be so very kind and gentle with me when it's exactly what I need the most.

The ground is cold and wet beneath my feet. Tiny sticks and bits of rock poke the tips of my toes as I dig them into the soft soil. Right now, I doubt if I'll ever truly be a part of this world...if I belong here at all. My head is hung in shame and embarrassment. I let my hair droop into my eyes as if the tangled mess can hide me. My cheeks are hot and sticky from my tears. I've failed Han and my pack. I've not only embarrassed myself, but all of us.

Coyote's shirt is long enough to cover my important parts and the tails dangle, tickling my bare thighs. I'm naked beneath, but it isn't my nudity that makes me feel so exposed. My emotions have done a fine enough job of it. I want to run and hide, but that isn't the part the mate of a powerful pack master should play. I've already made Han look weak in front of the pack and the vampires. As if I ever thought I could defend him. The last thing I want to do is to make matters worse by hiding in the woods instead of facing the music.

Coyote doesn't say a word and walks patiently beside me. My arms are crossed defensively over my chest. The ground is more interesting than the warm glow of electricity shining through the windows of the house breaking up the darkness. I would have walked into a tree if he hadn't gently taken my arm and steered me out of the way. He lifts the crumpled napkin to his nose and inhales deeply. With a pained groan he extends the napkin to me. Inside are the spoils of war...the last cookie. It's mangled and crumbled into fragments of baked to perfection dough and chocolate chips. "Take it, Grace. You need it more than I do."

Standing in the shadow of the woods I hold the napkin in my outstretched palm. I pick up a crumb and put it into my mouth. I never thought eating a cookie could make anything better. But, somehow it does. I eat every bit of the smashed cookie except for one last pulverized bite. I save that for Coyote and watch him, with a little boy's gleam in his eye as he takes the bite from my hand, pops it into his mouth, and savors it as it dissolves into nothing but lingering sweetness.

Chapter 46

My shame spirals out of control as we draw closer to the main house. Necessary as it might be. I'm dragging my feet and not looking forward to apologizing for biting Van on the ass. Coyote prods me forward, but we walk past the house and make our way to the old carriage house and the apartment Han and I temporarily call home. "You need to clean up and look the part," Coyote explains as he drives me up the narrow stairs.

He's right. I'm a mess. My hair is a tangle of leaves and bits of grass and twigs. I'm naked with the exception of Coyote's shirt. I've got mud between my toes and beneath my fingernails. What did I think I was going to do? Apologize to Van looking like this? The apology will have to be a public affair if I've got any hopes of salvaging his dignity and the pack's reputation. After all, I've argued time and time again that we are civilized people. At the very least I can look like I have fairly reasonable personal hygiene.

I don't bother talking. I head straight for the shower. Coyote riffles through my closet and grunts in dismay. "Don't you have anything to wear besides yoga pants, jeans, and t-shirts?" I hear him shout over the rushing water. Do I? Christine was always the fashion plate. If I had someplace to go that required anything dressy, I borrowed something to wear from her. I shrug though Coyote can't see me from the other side of the closed door.

I scrub my skin red beneath the scalding spray as if I can wash my shame and embarrassment down the drain as easily as I can the debris underneath my fingernails. My stomach clenches at the thought of Christine and Rod. Worries that have gotten pushed away rush to fill my mind. Overwhelmed by the long list of everything I've got to worry about fighting for space in my head. I lean against the tile wall of the shower and let the water pummel me.

I run my palms over my stomach. My normally flat belly is begging to grow soft and rounded with the baby. In another few weeks the items in my closet won't be worth worrying about. I'll need to upgrade sizes or buy maternity clothing. There has been so much going on that I haven't had time to consider all the small things that come on the heels of being pregnant. This should be a happy time and I should be doing all the things that expectant moms do. I shake my head at the thought of what kind of a family I'm bringing this kid into. We're definitely not the Brady Bunch. Maybe, the Addams Family would be more like it.

Coyote is pounding on the bathroom door and demanding that I get out of the shower. We've got things to do and amends to make, he says as if I need a reminder. I stifle the sob of self-pity threatening to choke me and rinse my face. Coyote has seen me naked more than once and nudity just goes part and parcel with the whole werewolf thing. But, I wish I had a robe. Unfortunately, I don't. I climb out of the shower and wrap up in a couple of thick towels as tightly and modestly as I can.

The clothes he picked out for me to wear are folded neatly at the foot of the bed. I don't know how he did it, but he managed to scrounge up a pretty sweater with delicate crocheted handwork trim along the hem and neckline. Paired with my best jeans the pale pink knit decidedly looks better than one of the many t-shirts I would have pulled out of the closet if the choice had been left up to me.

I roll my eyes and blush at the thought of him riffling through my underwear drawer. Coyote in his typical style has chosen a black lacy thong and matching pushup bra that somehow followed me here on my first trip to Indiana. I hold up the thong, dangling it from my index finger and give him a look. "Really?"

He chuckles and shrugs. "I know you're off limits, but hey, I'm a guy. Can't blame me for trying." His smile is devastating and mischievous. His joking levity is exactly what I need. I sling shot the thong and he catches it in his fist. "Can I keep them?"

I should be offended. I should be freaking out. Han is my one true love. I'm faithful to him. Coyote shouldn't have his fingers anywhere near my underwear even if I'm not wearing them. Coyote always said he was an honest trickster and I guess that's true. At least he doesn't try to hide what he feels. I know beyond anything else, whether his feelings for me are wanted or not, he's genuine to his very core. I snicker and snatch the thong out of his grip and stuff it back in the drawer. I pull out a pair of granny panties and snap them in his face. He shudders at the serviceable white cotton underwear and his bottom lips falls into a pout. "Get your own underwear."

"I'd rather be in yours," he says.

He's joking and unabashedly flirting with me. I accept his playfulness as just a part of who he is. He's serious, but the both of us know it isn't going to happen. "Someday, some girl is going to give you a run for your money."

"God, I hope so," he says with a devilish grin capable of melting the most serviceable of panties. I slip into the bathroom to change and he nods in approval when I open the door. "You're getting there," he says. He bows at the waist in a very un Coyote like fashion and bids me to have a seat. I'm surprised at the gentleness and deftness in which his fingers work the comb through my damp hair as he braids the strands. The tight single braid starting at the crown of my scalp and woven down to the middle of my shoulders augments my arched brows, long lashes, high cheekbones and full lips. I look delicate as a doll and regal as a queen. "Now..." He fastens a band at the tip of the braid to hold it in place. "You're there."

I meet his eyes in the mirror. The pink sweater adds a rosy, healthful glow to my cheeks and makes my brown eyes darker and more intense. "I love Han," I say. Though it's something the both of us know.

He nods and his cocky sexy grin fades into a grimace. "I know, Grace. Believe me, I know." He runs his hand over my shoulder. His fingers trace gently across my collarbones. There's a sadness and seriousness to him that I wish I hadn't been the one to cause. I look away and fiddle with something on the dresser. He moves to the door leading to the stairs and opens it wide. It's time for us to go and for me to swallow my pride and apologize. "Grace, I love him too."

"I promise you, Coyote. Someday, you'll find her and she is going to be one lucky bitch. But, she'd better be good to you or I'll kick her ass."

"Or bite it," he says. And in that statement, he's back, the Coyote everyone knows and loves, especially me.

Chapter 47

I sit with Van in the study. With the rush of activity done for the evening and most of the pack bedded down for the night. We've got the room to ourselves and it'd be easy to pretend that we're just two men, talking quietly amongst ourselves, and enjoying a tumbler or two of fine scotch. I've left Grace in Coyote's capable hands once again. I need to stop doing that so much. But, it couldn't be avoided. The situation with Van and the vampires is tenuous enough as it is.

Poor Grace, if there were ever times I've regretted bringing her into this world it's times like these. She was terrified for me. She thought Van was going to kill me and she reacted. She doesn't understand our world and the violence in it. Hers is a gentle soul that needs to be handled with care. I'm trying to be a better man, to grasp her view of the world, a world without bloodshed and brutality, and I'm failing her.