Isabel and the Wolf: (Part 3) (11 page)

“What’s happening with the mutant wolves?” Isabel asked, as soon as they sat down in the living room. Rob’s face tightened.

“We haven’t learned anything new, except that we seem to be the only conservation area having this issue,” he said. “We haven’t seen any more of these wolves either. But, last night, someone broke into the center, stole all of the physical evidence of the wolves, and hacked into the computer and wiped all the data. It doesn’t really matter, as all the samples have been recorded and analyzed, and I’ve got the computer backed up, but the fact that someone stole it at all is majorly worrying.”

“Someone’s got something to hide,” Isabel said. “But this doesn’t make any sense. Apart from suggesting that the introduction of the wolves was deliberate.”

“And that’s what I’m having a hard time coming to terms with. Why would anyone do a thing like that?”

“Beats me,” Josie said, in a light tone that made Rob frown at her.

Isabel put together a simple meal of spaghetti with truffle oil, Italian sausage and lots of parmesan, washed down with red wine.

“You were so lying about your cooking skills. This is the second thing of yours I’ve tasted, and it’s delicious!” Josie said.

“I’d have a hard time going wrong with those ingredients!” Isabel replied. Josie seemed to get drunk after her first glass of wine, and her conversation got louder, and the words tumbled out after one another. Her outfit, a scarlet jersey wrap dress, was getting hiked dangerously high on her thighs, and the black lace of her bra was clearly visible at the neckline. When she went to the bathroom, the tension in Rob’s face eased.

“I find Josie a little challenging to deal with when she’s like this,” he confided in a low voice.

“She’s pretty lively, but that’s fine,” Isabel said. “Sometimes alcohol hits you way harder than you’re expecting.”

“No, it’s more than that. She gets into these really hyperactive moods, and sometimes, to be honest, I feel like locking her into a room until they’re all over. And I feel terrible for saying that.”

“How often does this happen?” Isabel asked, carefully.

“About once a month. And before you say it must be a women’s thing, I have plotted the dates, but it doesn’t seem to correspond.” He looked down at the table and Isabel watched him, trying to gauge how much it would be appropriate to say.

“Have you discussed it with her?” she asked.

“I’ve tried. I really have, but, it’s like, at the time, she doesn’t see anything wrong with the way she’s acting, and afterwards she doesn’t recall that anything’s been different. So when I bring it up, it makes her anxious – like telling someone they were sleepwalking the night before, or something – and she gets really upset. It’s not worth it. It only lasts a day or two, so I guess I can deal with it.”

Josie was back. She landed heavily on her chair and grinned at the two of them.

“So what did I miss?”

“Nothing much, we were just talking about Gila again.”

“Hey, where’s your man?” Josie asked, as if she’d just noticed that someone was missing.

“Oh he’s away for a couple of days.”

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone seriously, Isabel,” Rob said.

“It’s a little soon to say it’s serious, but things are going well,” she said, her cheeks warming with pleasure.

“Tell us about him, Bella!” Josie said, and Isabel picked up something sardonic in her tone. She scowled at Josie.

“He’s a really cool guy. He’s an artist too,” she lied, knowing Rob would ask about his career. “He does conceptual paintings. He has a Harley. He’s not from the US – he’s from Romania, actually.”

“No way! Did you know Josie’s family is Romanian, from way back?”

“No, I didn’t,” Isabel replied, catching Josie’s eye. It was too much to have told him that Peter was Romanian, but, after the way Josie had been acting, she didn’t care.

As soon as Rob was away from the table, Isabel glared at Josie.

“It was you who didn’t want me to mention Peter, and now you’re bringing him up!” she hissed.

“Oops!” Josie said, sounding drunker than she could feasibly have been. “It’s just hard to keep him out of my mind sometimes.”

“What do you mean by that?” Isabel asked, but she didn’t get an answer, and then Rob was back.

After they’d left and Isabel was doing the dishes, she turned Josie’s behavior over in her mind, trying and failing to draw any new conclusions.

*

Isabel woke in the middle of the night. The clock told her it was 4am, but the moonlight was shining so brightly through her curtains that it seemed like dawn. She had an overwhelming urge to see the moon, unobstructed by glass. As she’d done weeks ago, she put her dressing gown on and went outside the house. With the grass tickling her bare feet, she looked up at it, huge and low in the sky, and a perfect round. She stared deep into its shadowy face, trying to find meaning. It felt benevolent, a gentle face, and, as she stood there for longer and longer, it seemed to be calling her, telling her to abandon her earthly possessions and follow its pure white iridescence.

She had no recollection of going back inside, and was surprised to find herself waking in her bed the next morning, instead of spread-eagled on the lawn.

*

Tuesday couldn’t go fast enough, and on Wednesday Isabel worked relentlessly, putting the finishing touches to her woodcarving. She told herself that she wanted to have it ready to show Peter, which was true, but it was mainly to distract herself from thinking he wasn’t going to come back. They’d exchanged messages over the past days, light-hearted, playful fragments. She’d deliberately kept hers free of emotion, not daring to invest too much into their relationship
just in case
.

She gave her sculpture a final polish and closed it in her studio, knowing from experience that it would be a couple of days before she could assess it objectively. She went out to get groceries, and, her spirits high from completing her project, she bought plenty of food for two people.

As her Mini Cooper pulled into her driveway, her heart leapt. There was Peter, in his motorbike leathers, looking unbelievably sexy. He broke into a grin when he saw her, his eyes sparkling in the soft afternoon sun.

“Hi, beautiful,” he said, and pulled her into a deep, sensual kiss.

“You’re back!” she said.

“I said I would be,” he replied, confusion in his eyes. Isabel laughed.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” He took her groceries, and brought a large rucksack with him as well.

In the kitchen, he turned out of his rucksack a bottle of añejo tequila, a bottle of triple sec, a cocktail shaker, ice, lemons and limes.

“You make cocktails?” Isabel exclaimed.

“I do now. You said you love margaritas, no?”

“They’re only my favorite!” She stood and watched with rapt attention as Peter mixed up the ingredients.

“Do you have salt? And martini glasses?” He added a thick rim of salt to each glass, just the way she liked it, shook the mixture thoroughly, and poured out the pale yellow concoction. He watched as she took a sip.

“Absolute perfection!” she said.

“Truly?”

“Yes! I’ve never had better.” She took a bigger gulp, her taste buds exploding with the perfect balance of sweet, salty, bitter and sour.

They had a lovely evening, kissing and snuggling lots, Isabel struck by how natural it felt to put her arms around him in a girlfriendy way. Now he’d come back to her, she felt calm, sure that they were together, but still longing for him to say the words.

After the second margarita loosened her inhibitions, she took him back to the studio, and watched him anxiously as he took in her sculpture.

“Bella, you’ve captured the essence of Gila!” he said. She grinned.

“But, how did you know it was about Gila?”

“It’s obvious,” he said. “It has the spirit, the depth, the wildness, combined with a sense of protection.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you see all that! I think I had it in mind, subconsciously, but I was just letting my hands work as they wanted.”

“Isabel, you’re a very talented woman,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “And I find that very sexy.” He lifted her up and placed her on a high workbench, evening out their heights. He started to kiss her. His mouth was hard and hungry on hers, and he tugged at her hair. He pulled the thin straps of her shirt down. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts sprang out, the nipples hardening. She sighed at the feeling of exposure. He reached down between her legs and pushed her panties to one side.

“Nice and wet for me, as always,” he said, and she moaned. He thrust two fingers inside her roughly, and she heard the slipperiness of her own wetness. He pumped his fingers in and out and her vision darkened as she became light-headed. It was hot in the studio, and she pulled her shirt over her head and cast it aside. Peter pulled his t-shirt over his head too, revealing his muscled torso, already glistening with perspiration. He pulled his leather pants off. There was no underwear to discard, and his cock was hard and dangerous-looking. In a single thrust, he was all the way inside her. She took a breath, as pain gave way to pleasure, and leaned back on her hands, watching the powerful motions of his pelvis as he fucked her on her workbench. His eyes were wild and yellow, the bones of his face more angular than ever. He stopped.

“Turn around, Bella.”

“Really?” She bit her lip. He gave her his uncompromising stare, and she shuffled down off the bench and obediently bent over the table. He yanked her panties down as far as her knees, and pushed his cock into her again. She panted and gasped as he pounded into her, harder than usual.

“Is this too much for you, Isabel?” he asked, through clenched teeth. His voice sounded different, growly and throaty.

“No,” she managed to say, between pants. His orgasm close, he fucked her faster and faster, and they both climaxed at the same moment, her vaginal muscles contracting hard around his pulsing cock.

“I wish my art had that effect on everybody!” she said, when they’d pulled themselves up from the bench.

“The sculpture is incredible, but it was more your beautiful body that did it for me,” Peter said, stroking her ass.

They had dinner and watched a film, a quirky comedy, and Isabel thought it was adorable that she had to explain some of the jokes to him.

In bed, they curled into each other, kissing tenderly. Peter moved to her side as she lay on her back, and then he was shifting her into a spoons position.

“Peter, can we not do it face to face, please?” He froze, then climbed on top of her.

“We can, Bella, but I’m going to blindfold you.”

“Really? But it’s dark already.”

“I know, but – call it a fetish of mine. I just really like the idea that you can’t see me.”

“Ok,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. In all the times they’d had sex, she’d never got to see his face as they came together. He asked her to find a blindfold, and she got out of bed and rummaged around for a scarf. He tied it tightly around her eyes.

“It’s very important that you don’t see me, Isabel. Like last time, if there’s any light coming through, you must shut your eyes. Promise me.”

“I promise,” she said. He spread her legs wide and took his time, teasing her, touching her all over her body, in different spots, so she didn’t know where the next caress would be. Her nerves were on fire all over, from her nipples, all the way down to her toes, all crying out for his touch. At last, the moment she’d been waiting for so impatiently: the tip of his cock probed at her entrance, and then slid deep inside. He began to screw her, and she sighed, losing herself to the amazing sensations. The blindfold was liberating, taking away everything extraneous, and all she was aware of was the feeling of his cock possessing her body.

His movements became more and more urgent, rocking the bed, the springs squeaking. His breath came in pants too, and she felt his hand on her face, pressing over the blindfold. As his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot, her hips jerked violently, moving her whole body. Peter’s hand slipped on the blindfold. She felt it falling down, away from her eyes. Reflexively, her eyes flew open and she took a big breath in. And then she screamed her lungs out at the sight of the beast staring down at her.

*****

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Isabel and The Wolf: Part Four

Horrified by the revelation of Peter’s true nature, Isabel pushes him, and everything to do with him, as far out of her mind as possible. Instead, she looks for comfort in the arms of Jed – the handsome, stable guy her mother would approve of. But it’s not long before she discovers that Jed is not all he seems either, and suddenly, the secrets of Silver City are brought to shaggy-haired life.

As news of the town’s unusual wolves begins to spread, and outsiders intrude on the small community, a shocking incident throws Peter and Jed together in a way Isabel couldn’t have imagined. Sometimes it takes adversity to reveal your true feelings, and Isabel finally knows what she needs to do to resolve the conflict between her head and her heart.