Dead Sexy (23 page)

Regan woke with a sense of dread. She looked around the cave, but of course there was no sign of Santiago. She wondered where he had gone to spend the day, wondered how she would get through the next few hours until the moon's rising.

She fixed something to eat, but she had no appetite. She drank two cups of coffee and then, too restless to remain inside, she left the cave. Glancing around, she wondered what had happened to the horses. Had they wandered off during the night? It was probably just as well. At least they would be out of harm's way when…

She thrust the thought aside. She would not think of that now. The sun was high in the sky; it was a beautiful, clear day. Last night's rain had left the earth smelling fresh and clean. Birds sang cheerfully in the treetops. Squirrels and chipmunks were scampering on the ground, chattering and chasing each other from tree to tree and branch to branch.

Feeling somewhat like Eve exploring the Garden of Eden, Regan started walking, praying that she wouldn't come across any snakes or mountain lions along the way. She wouldn't go far, just a short stroll to stretch her legs. Wildlife was plentiful, she noted. A doe bounded across her path. She saw a skunk moving sedately through the trees. A short time later, she happened upon a narrow trail that wound its way upward. Curious, Regan followed it for several yards, smiling when the trail led her to a small pool.

Kneeling at the edge, she rinsed her face and hands and ran her fingers through her hair. When she looked up again, she saw a gray wolf watching her from the other side of the pool, but it wasn't like any wolf she had ever seen before.

For one thing, it had hazel eyes. For another, she didn't think it was flesh and blood. She wasn't sure why she felt that way, unless it was because the creature seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, as if it wasn't made of flesh and bone, but what was even more strange was that it cast no shadow.

She stared at the wolf, thinking how odd it was that she wasn't afraid.

She lost track of time as she sat there gazing at the wolf. It seemed as though a river flowed between them, not of water, but of understanding.

She was somewhat startled when she heard a voice in her mind. It was a deep voice, an old man's voice murmuring, "Pahin Sapa."

Frowning, she repeated the words, though they meant nothing to her.

The wolf barked once, as if to say "yes."

Regan leaned forward, thinking she must be losing her mind to think that a wolf was speaking to her telepathically. "Pahin Sapa. Is that your name?"

The wolf barked again.

"What are you doing here?" Regan wondered aloud. "Where did you come from? And why do you have hazel eyes?"

The wolf smiled at her, its tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth.

"This is too weird," Regan muttered, shaking her head. She glanced up, surprised to see the sun was no longer high in the sky. "Stick around," she said, "should be quite a show later tonight."

With a wave of its tail, the wolf turned and disappeared into the trees.

Regan remained where she was for a long while, feeling as though she was caught between two worlds and not sure if she belonged in either one. Tonight she would know if Vasile's bite had cursed her to become a werewolf or not, and all she could do until then was wait and wonder and worry, though deep inside, she was afraid she already knew the answer.

As the sun slipped behind the mountains, she began to tremble uncontrollably. Nerves, she thought, it was just a bad case of nerves. And yet it was more than that. She felt as though her skin no longer fit, as if she had woken up wearing someone else's body.

She was trying to summon the strength to rise and return to the cave when Santiago found her.

There was no need for words. He took one look at her pale face, the tremors that wracked her slender frame, and pulled her to her feet and into his embrace.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. Shaking so badly she could hardly speak, she said, "I'm… so… afraid."

"I know." He stroked her hair and her back, all the while promising her that it would be all right, that he would be there with her through the night, that there was nothing for her to be afraid of.

"I'm sorry to be… such a coward."

"You are not a coward."

She buried her face against his chest. "I've faced vampires. I've staked vampires. I should be able to handle this."

"You are handling it just fine."

She looked up at him, her face drawn, her eyes brimming with tears. "Were you afraid, when you were turned?"

He nodded. "Afraid does not quite describe what I felt."

She sniffed back her tears, comforted somehow by the knowledge that he had once been afraid. "I talked to a wolf today."

"Indeed? And what did you talk about?"

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

"No. I believe you."

"You do? Really?"

"In the old days, the animals were not as they are today. They were bigger and stronger and had mystical powers. In those days, they were friends to the Indians and often spoke to them."

"But I'm not Indian. Anyway, I think I imagined the whole thing." She laughed self-consciously. "He told me his name was Pahin Sapa."

She didn't think she had ever seen Santiago looked surprised, but he was definitely flabbergasted now.

"You are sure that is what he said?"

"Yes, I think so, why?"

"Pahin Sapa is the name of the shaman we came here to see, the one who was killed."

The moon had taken command of the sky by the time Santiago and Regan returned to the cave.

Anxiety rolled off Regan in waves so strong it was palpable, almost visible, provoking an answering tension in Santiago. The only werewolf he had ever seen shift had been Vasile and, due to the werewolf's age, the transformation had happened in an instant.

Inside the cave, Regan began to pace. She couldn't sit still, couldn't stop shaking. She kicked off her shoes and removed her jacket as heat built inside her. Then she paced some more. Time and again, she reached up to explore her face with her hands, as if to reassure herself that nothing had changed, then, uttering a harsh cry of dismay, she came to an abrupt halt. She was trembling uncontrollably now.

Eyes wide, she stared at Santiago. "It's happening," she whispered. "Oh, lord, it's happening now. Make it stop! Please, make it stop!"

"Try to stay calm," Santiago said. "Listen to the sound of my voice."

Regan saw his lips move but his words had no meaning. She clutched her stomach, doubling over as a burning sensation spread through her, as if all her internal organs were on fire, melting and reforming. There was a buzzing inside her head. Her skin rippled, her bones popped and cracked as they realigned themselves. With a hoarse cry, she dropped to her hands and knees, staring in horror at the thick coat of fur that sprouted from her arms, the strong claws that replaced her fingernails.

Looking up at Santiago, she cried, "Help me!"

He shook his head, helpless to do anything for her now except watch as the transformation progressed. Her shirt and jeans ripped at the seams and she shook them off.

Speechless, Santiago could only stand there, completely engrossed at what he was seeing as Regan Delaney disappeared and a beautiful blond wolf with bright green eyes stood in her place. Throwing back her head, she whined softly, and then, with a mournful howl and a twitch of her tail, she ran out of the cave.

In the blink of an eye, Santiago changed into a wolf and followed her into the night.

Panic chased Regan through the darkness. Unbelievable as it seemed, she was a wolf, and she knew it. The earth was cool beneath her paws. A hundred different scents inundated her nostrils, among them the fecund smell of the forest and the animals that dwelled within it, from the jackrabbit trembling in the underbrush to the owl that swooped overhead. She knew there was water nearby, and somewhere in the distance, a dead animal.

She ran blindly, tirelessly, amazed at the way the world looked through her wolf eyes. Only when she slowed did she become aware that she was being followed.

Coming to an abrupt stop, she spun around, her hackles rising, a growl rumbling deep in her throat when she saw the black wolf. She walked toward it, stiff-legged, ears and nostrils twitching.

Recognizing Santiago's scent, she whined softly.

With a low
woof
, he rubbed his body against hers, and then ran off into the night.

With a joyful bark, she followed him.

It was a strange feeling. She knew, on some deep level, that she was Regan Delaney, but it didn't seem to matter. For now, for this night, she was a wolf, as wild and unfettered as her feral brothers and sisters. She was a wolf, and she loved it. She saw things, heard things, and smelled things, that the human part of Regan Delaney would never experience or understand.

When the black wolf flushed a rabbit from the underbrush, she bounded after it, jaws snapping. There was no revulsion in the kill, none when she sank her teeth into the soft, still-warm flesh.

She wagged her tail when the black wolf trotted up to her side, snarled a warning for him to back off when he nosed the kill. It was hers and she wouldn't share.

Later, they ran side by side through the night, playing tag, jumping deadfalls, and splashing through a shallow stream. Why had she been afraid of this? She had never felt so alive, so free!

Hours later, she was following Santiago back to the cave when the unmistakable scent of man reached her nostrils. In that instant, the beast rose up within her and Regan Delaney ceased to exist, swallowed up in the sudden, overwhelming need for flesh—human flesh.

She veered sharply to the right, following the scent to a campfire where two warriors sat sharing a pipe.

Dropping to her belly, she crept closer to the campsite, her heart pounding in anticipation, her mouth watering. Power swelled within her, thrumming through every fiber of her body. The moon was high in the sky and she was invincible.

She drew in a deep breath, her nostrils filling with the scent of prey. The rabbit she had consumed had been sweet. The taste of human flesh would be sweeter still.

In an instant, Santiago shifted back to his own form. He sprang forward when the wolf did, his arms closing around her, bearing her down to the ground.

Jaws snapping, she turned on him, her only thought to dine on human flesh. His or that of the other two men, it didn't matter. She needed it, wanted it, could think of nothing else.

She growled her anger as she attempted to tear out Santiago's throat, but even as a werewolf, she was no match for his ancient preternatural speed or strength. He clamped one hand around her jaws, rendering her helpless as he carried her back to the cave.

Inside, he held her imprisoned in his arms until the sun chased the moon from the sky.

She cried out in pain as her body assumed its own shape once more and hid her face against his shoulder in shame as her humanity returned and she found herself naked in Santiago's arms.

"You should have killed me," she murmured.

"Was it that bad? What do you remember?"

"I remember all of it." She recalled her initial joy as she ran through the forest, all her senses alive. She had received stimuli through her eyes, ears, nose, and the pads of her feet. But then the darkness had come, blinding her to everything but the impulse to kill the Indians sitting at the campfire. It had been an urge she could not resist. Worse, she hadn't wanted to resist it. Had she been able, she would have killed the Indians and savaged their flesh. Had she been able, she was afraid she would have killed Santiago, as well.

She sighed. So it hadn't been all bad. In fact, some of it had been enjoyable. If it wasn't for the overpowering urge to kill, she might have embraced being a werewolf. But the bad far outweighed the good.

"I can't live like this," she said dully. "What am I going to do when you're not around to stop me?" She remembered all too clearly what she had read about werewolves; how, once they had tasted human blood, they were beyond redemption, their souls dammed for all eternity. While she had never been big on religion, she did believe in heaven and hell.

"You can come to my lair when the moon is full," he said. "I will lock you inside from moonrise to sunrise."

"I don't want to be locked up once a month, like some kind of… of…" Her voice grew very soft. "Monster."

"We can keep looking for a cure."

"And what if there isn't one? What if there never was one?"

"You will learn to control the change, in time, as I have learned to control my hunger."

"And how long did that take you?"

"A long time," he admitted ruefully.

She wriggled out of his arms. "I need to get dressed."

"Not on my account, I hope," he muttered with a wry grin.

Turning her back to him, Regan rummaged through her pack, then went into the back of the cave to dress. She would have to remember to undress in the future, she thought, or she would be spending a lot of money replacing the clothing she ruined during the change.

She didn't know what embarrassed her more, her actions of the previous night or finding herself naked in Santiago's arms. Of course, embarrassing was hardly the right word to describe what she had almost done last night. Horrifying was more like it. And what about tonight? Would she shift again, or did the moon have power over her only one night a month? That wouldn't be so bad, she thought, and then swore softly. Not so bad? What was she thinking? She could do a lot of damage in one night.

Her stomach growled as she pulled on her shoes. The fact that she was hungry surprised her. Returning to the main part of the cave, she opened a can of soup and warmed it over the coals.

Santiago regarded her through narrowed eyes as she sat down to eat. If being a new werewolf was anything like being a new vampire, then the worst was behind her. All things considered, she had handled it fairly well, although she was still unsettled by the experience. But then, who could blame her? Becoming a werewolf had to be a shock, physically and emotionally.