Wolf's Girl Ch. 01

Mack never expected Connor to follow her all the way from their little hometown in Alaska. She hadn't expected him to show up at her front door in the middle of the semester. She didn't think he'd even wanted her as a mate after the way she blew up at him in front of the whole family and declared she would have nothing to do with their outdated practice of arranged marriages. And she certainly didn't expect to run into other werewolves, ones who were not as friendly as the ones she knew back home.

And now Connor was dead. Because of her.

She cursed herself for how stupid she'd been. She should have expected this. She should have prepared herself. Her parents had warned her others were out there. As a descendant of one of the old bloodlines, but not a wolf herself, she was more likely to produce a werewolf when mated to one. Mack thought the part about giving off pheromones when she was ready to mate was bullshit, but she knew about this commonly held belief among her kind. She just chose to disregard it. She considered herself a scientist and there was no science to back up such a wild claim. Besides, she thought the chances of running into werewolves beyond the ones she'd already knew were incredibly low. There were maybe two thousand werewolves in the entire country. What were the odds even one would randomly find her?

And yet the others had found her easily.

Now she was out of tears and out of options. Connor's family would need to be informed. She couldn't think clearly. She couldn't process what she needed to do and in which order. She definitely couldn't stay in this city anymore, not without the protection of a pack, especially if there were others allied with the ones she'd encountered tonight. She didn't even have enough money to leave on her own. Mack pulled her flip phone of her purse. Her call took a few attempts before it went through.

"Mom?"

——— = ———

It took Mackenzie several sluggish moments before her new reality registered. The unreal, disorienting feeling of waking up in her own childhood bed, back in her parents' home, made it so easy to believe that the gruesome ending to her year out of state had just been a bad dream. She laid still a little while longer, trying to hold on to that version of reality.

The police officer at the hospital turned out to be exactly what she needed. The woman spoke to her for a while, talked to her parents by phone and explained everything that Mack couldn't, then took her by her apartment to change and gather up a few things. The officer left her at the airport when she was sure she had a seat on the next flight to Anchorage and safely in the terminal. Mack tried to recall the woman's name and couldn't. She had her card somewhere in her bag.

Mack looked at her old alarm clock. 7:32. Late for homeroom.

The sounds of a conversation downstairs reached her ears. It sounded serious, but she couldn't make out the words. They probably didn't intend to wake her. Mack remained flat on her stomach, staring at an interesting pattern of plaster on the wall.

She should be crying, she thought. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do when people died? Why couldn't she cry?

Mack decided she couldn't stay in this room any longer, looking at the same four walls that had been both prison and refuge her whole life. She put on a pair of slippers and went downstairs in her pajamas.

Mackenzie stood in the doorway before entering the kitchen. Her mother sat at the table with a cup of coffee, already perfectly put together in a tasteful green dress and not a hair out of place in her blonde bob. She looked tired, but hid it well. Her father stood a little behind her. He was dressed for work, but his graying red hair was rumpled and his eyes were red and puffy. Even with a smart tie and blazer, he looked less put together than his wife.

Two others had joined them. One was Connor's father, Robert, who looked like an older, shorter, mustached version of his deceased son. Both of them had the same dark hair and eyes. Then there was Robert's brother-in-law, Giles. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, muscular arms folded over his hard chest. His presence in the house was comforting and familiar to her. Giles had been a part of the family since before she was born. Since he lived in a dry cabin by himself, he used his friend's house for showers or laundry. He spent most weekends with her father, drinking beer or fishing.

Giles' rough appearance would have looked more at home in a roadside bar or out in the wild than in a neatly kept middle class kitchen. As the only werewolf present, and his family's alpha, he effortlessly dominated the room without intending to. His height alone made him stand out. He was at least a head taller than everyone else, with a powerful build to match. His wavy brown hair showed faint silver threads on the sides and the back was pulled into a short, messy ponytail. His brooding gaze remained focused on the floor some distance away. He rubbed his stubbled jaw as he listened to the others speak.

Robert paced. "It seems pretty clear to me—"

The conversation stopped.

Everyone looked at her.

Giles spotted Mackenzie first. He lifted his chin, his eyes showing concern, and his stance softened slightly.

Her mother got up and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Kenzie! You should be sleeping. I'm sorry if we woke you. Can I make you anything?"

"I was just going to get some cereal," Mack answered. She barely moved her mouth as she spoke. Words were still hard to use right now. She let her mom hug her, and she appreciated it, but she only leaned in. If she hadn't been so hungry, she would have left the room and avoided everyone. But she had skipped food in the airport and on the plane, so the last time she'd eaten anything was at the movies with Connor. As she moved to the fridge, she kept her gaze focused on objects, not people.

Her father broke the awkward silence. "Well, we'll have to call a meeting anyway. We'll figure it out."

"There's nothing to figure out, Carson. We round up everyone who can fight, go down there, and finish this." Robert's voice had an edge of anger to it.

I really shouldn't be here right now, Mack thought. Where she was supposed to be, she didn't know. She kept herself quietly busy and as small as possible by searching for a spoon.

Giles's deep voice interjected, "We still don't know all the details." He addressed Mackenzie directly, using a softer tone, "Macks, when you're feeling up to it, I need to talk to you. The sooner the better."

Macks was his name for her. She'd known Giles her whole life, but as far back as she could remember, he had never called her by her actual name. He used lots of names for her: Mack, Mackie, Kenz, Kenny, Zizi, Girly, Sport, Freckles. Somehow "Macks" had stuck.

"Sure," she answered. She caught Robert's piercing stare directed at her.

No one said anything.

Her mother broke the silence this time. "Well, it sounds like all of you have important calls to make. Robert, I'll stop by in little bit to see Laura. I don't want her to be alone right now."

Robert broke his hard gaze on Mack and looked at her mother. "Thanks, Andrea. I'm sure she'd appreciate the company." He turned to Giles, "Coming?"

Giles shook his head. He was studying Mackenzie. "I think I'll stick around for a bit. Okay, Macks?" He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

She nodded, understanding.

Her father approached Robert and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll walk you to the car."

—————

Mackenzie ate in silence at the kitchen table while the world just sort of happened around her. Her mother and Giles had gone off to talk outside, no doubt conferring with her father over what to do. Her father had come in for a minute and explained that that he still needed to stop by his law office. He hugged her once and gave her a kiss on top of her head before he left. Her mother, worried about her only child and daughter, finally allowed Giles to convince her it was okay to leave and go take care of Connor's mother.

Giles, meanwhile, was a sturdy rock in a turbulent ocean of emotion. He calmly made a fresh pot of coffee and waited for Andrea to leave. Once her mother was gone, Giles set a cup of coffee down in front of Mack (extra milk, sugar) and took one for himself (black). He turned one of the chairs around at the kitchen table and straddled it, leaning forward with his arms resting on the back.

"So."

Mack didn't know how to begin. She stared into her empty cereal bowl.

Giles didn't press. He drank his coffee while he waited.

Mack looked at her coffee for a while, then took a sip. She wanted to talk. She wanted to scream and yell and curse the whole world for what had been done to Connor, but the words stuck in her throat.

"I know it's going to be hard to describe what happened, but I have to know. Connor wasn't just my nephew. He was my student, my cub to train. He was my pack. I was responsible for him. It's my duty to see that whoever did this pays for it." There was no judgment, no anger in his tone, just sadness and empathy.

Mack finally found her voice. "It happened so fast. One minute we were walking to the car and the next, they were right there."

"How many?"

"Two."

"This was in a parking garage?"

"Yes. The movie had just ended."

"What time?"

"About 12:30."

"And you never saw them earlier in the evening? Or maybe on another day?"

"No. I never noticed anyone watching us, or following us, or anything."

Giles frowned and rubbed his rough chin. "Surprised Connor didn't. He should have smelled them long before they attacked." He looked back at Mack. "Did you get a look at them? Height? Any distinctive patterns on the fur?"

She hesitated before she answered. "I think one was gray with a white patch on the chest. The other was brown and gray. That one had a patchy pattern on the face."

"Male or female?"

Mackenzie shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't tell."

Giles nodded. It wasn't obvious to most people. He would have known immediately by scent and by size, sometimes by build. Fur mostly hid the genitals. And often, the shape of a human breast vanished as the ribcage filled out and thick fur grew over them. "Was one taller than the other?"

"I— I don't know. They moved so fast," Mack stammered. She took a gasping breath. "I hid," she answered, getting her words out between choked sobs, "I hid behind the car. I didn't even watch. I should have done something. I could have tried to distract them or got them to chase me or... I don't know. Why didn't I do anything? I always thought if something happened I would fight, but I just froze. I sat there on the ground and covered my head while they killed him." Tears flowed openly from her blue-green eyes now. She was shaking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Giles' expression shifted into deep sympathy. He reached across to her and caressed the back of her head. With his other hand, he took one of hers and just held on. Very softly, he said, "There's nothing you could have done. Werewolves are extraordinarily hard to kill. I know." He said this, not with pride, but grim certainty. Now they had both been witness to bloody combat. "Even a handgun wouldn't have helped. Just think about Connor and be proud of him. All we can do now is honor his memory."

"He died saving my life," she whispered, just now realizing that fact for the first time.

Mack looked up and was surprised to find that his eyes were wet too, intensifying their bright gold color. She couldn't remember if she'd ever seen him cry before. In spite of his intimidating appearance, anyone who knew Giles knew how unserious he was. Usually, he was the one with the infectious laugh and an easy grin on his face. It was a powerful thing to see such a huge man so deeply wounded, and yet not thinking of himself. She felt it made him look even stronger.

He gave her some time. When they were both ready, he asked, "Why did they leave you behind? Do you think they could have been hurt?"

Mackenzie thought carefully. She squinted, remembering. "Yeah. After the fighting was over, I remember a kind of... wheezing? Not like normal breathing at all. Like, wet. I heard grunting noises... kind of like how dogs talk to people? Sorry, I don't mean—"

Giles smirked. "It's fine. Did you hear them leave? Running, maybe? Could you tell if it was two feet or four?"

"No, it was more like... shuffling or staggering." She blinked. "Wait! There were footprints... tracks in the blood, I mean."

"Human? Wolf?"

"Both."

"Describe them. How far apart?"

"There were a lot, close together. The tracks didn't go far."

Giles didn't speak. He frowned, putting the scene together in his head. After a minute of focused silence, he rose from the table. "Okay. I think I have enough to start. Macks, what's the number for your cell? I may need to contact you if I think of anything else to ask."

She got up from the table, went over to the bill organizer on the kitchen counter, and wrote the number down on a piece of paper.

"Thanks, angel." Giles tucked the paper into the pocket on his flannel shirt. "I'd give you mine, just in case you needed to talk, but I still don't have a phone. No point, seeing as how most of my time is spent out in the middle of nowhere."

"It's okay." On impulse, Mack wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. She buried her face into his chest. He felt so warm, so comforting. "Thank you."

Giles just held her. He bent over slightly so that he could lay his cheek against the top of her head. When he sensed she was ready, he said, "I would stay and watch over you, but I've got to move fast. If these assholes are injured, they'll be easier to identify, and werewolves heal quickly."

"I understand."

He stepped back and gave her hand a squeeze before heading out. "Chin up, Macks. You're tougher than you know."

He said it with such confidence that she could almost believe it.

This story, Wolf's Girl, was only posted to lit erotica dot com. If you find it anywhere else, please contact the author on that site or on twitter: @ olivia with heart

——— = ———

Connor's funeral was scheduled for the following Sunday. The medical examiner in California, at a loss to explain the injuries any other way, had accepted the explanation of wild dogs. It set off a search for the missing pack and the story made the local news. Giles, and three other pack members who accompanied him down to Los Angeles, would bring the body back on Friday.

Mackenzie hadn't heard anything about Giles' investigation. He'd called her once, in the middle of the week, to confirm a few details, but he didn't provide many of his own. He stayed on the phone as long as he could and asked how she was doing. Hearing his reassuring voice again made her feel warm inside.

While they waited for everyone to return, Mack patiently endured two conversations in which she assured her mother that, no, there was no chance she was pregnant. Mack dodged the more invasive questions about her sex life with Connor, choosing to let her mother believe she'd never slept with him during his last visit. It was easier than than trying to explain that she had always been very careful about using condoms and Connor had enthusiastically honored her request. Mack thought some werewolf kin, like her mother, could be worse than Catholics when it came to the subject of contraception.

She knew what her mother hoped for — that her wayward daughter would redeem the family honor with an unplanned, but fortuitous, pregnancy. The pack would deal better with the loss of their up-and-coming star quarterback if the girl who was supposed to marry him had come home with his child.

Her father seemed bothered by something that week, perhaps work related. He was the least emotional person in the household, making it difficult for Mack to know what he was thinking. He did try, a few times, to console her in his own way, which mostly meant trying to distract her with offers to play cards or watch tv, none of which Mack really felt like doing. She appreciated the effort — she just couldn't. Not yet.

—————

Sunday came and the entire village turned out for Connor's funeral. It was a closed casket service. Mackenzie sat between her parents, all of them wearing funereal black purchased for the occasion. Mackenzie wore a prim, knee-length dress and had her hair up in a french braid.

During the eulogy, she studied the portrait of Connor framed by a wreath. She recognized it from a professional photo taken for his senior pictures. He was smiling in that lopsided way of his, as though he was sharing a joke with the viewer. She thought it captured him pretty well. Mackenzie wondered if life with him would have been so terrible. If she could rewind, would she still trade his life for her freedom? Right now, with his casket not twenty feet away, she couldn't imagine she would. Macks tried not to think about the fact that she was probably the only person present who knew what Connor's body looked like inside that casket.

Connor's family sat on the opposite side of the church. His two elementary-aged siblings clung to their mother. Their faces showed mournful confusion. Connor's mother looked like an absolutely broken woman. Ordinarily very pretty, her eyes and nose were red from crying, and her shoulders hunched over.

After the funeral, Mack walked in silence behind her parents. Her father had an arm around her mother's shoulders. Her mother was crying silently and dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

"What are you doing here?"

The loud, clear voice came from somewhere behind her. It was jarring, hearing it cut above the low conversations and relative silence of the cemetery. Mackenzie looked around, curious.

"What... are you... doing here?" It was Laura, Connor's mother. Mack blinked in surprise as she realized the accusing question was directed at her. "I don't understand. Why would you come here?" The words were pleading, full of heartache.

Mackenzie realized everyone had turned to look at her.

"I asked you a question," Laura continued. Her husband tried to draw her away, but she shrugged his hand off. "Why are you here?"

Mackenzie looked at her parents and back at Laura. "I— I just came to pay my respects—"

"How dare you?" Laura took a few staggering steps closer, but kept a good distance between them. "How dare you come here when you rejected him? My son wasn't good enough for you. It was all set. We finally had the chance to bring our families together. Everything would have been perfect. And then you got it into your stupid little head that you didn't need him. You have ruined everyone's lives. My son would be alive today if you hadn't run off."

Mack didn't know what to say. She kept looking at all the faces staring back at her, some with pity, some sharing Laura's contempt. "I—"

"You didn't even stay to bring back his body. You just flitted home and abandoned him. His body was left alone in a strange city for almost a week. You left him. Again. So why would you bother to show up here today?"

Mackenzie felt herself starting to cry, so she turned and ran in the direction of her parents' car. She heard them talking, arguing without trying to further upset the grieving mother, but she didn't stop to listen to what anyone was saying. She only heard Laura's voice above the others, aimed straight at her.

"You killed my son!"

—————

Later that night, Giles stopped by to visit. He and Carson sat in their favorite spot behind the house. Everyone called it "the back yard" but it was really several acres that bordered a forested area, with a view of mountains in the distance. Giles and Carson shared a few beers and talked about nothing in particular. Her mother joined them with a glass of chilled vodka.