Not Your Ordinary Wolf Girl (23 page)

“Any particular animal?”

“Hmm, might be some wolves in there.”

We both laughed.

“Do you want to be a professor, like your parents?” I asked.

“Still figuring that out. I like the idea of doing research and writing more than teaching.”

“Yeah, grading students doesn't sound fun. I barely finished high school because I was on the road so much, but I'd like to go to college one day.”

“What would you study?” he asked.

“Music theory.”

He took out a dark rye bread, sliced it paper thin, and put it in front of me with the sandwich fixings. The
table was a tight fit. When he sat down beside me his foot was touching mine. I shifted away, helped myself to a little sandwich, and took a bite. It was weird to be making small talk
after
he'd seen me semi-naked—and wolfish—but better than talking about his homicidal brother.

“Tell me more about your family's research,” I said. “You're trying to cure werewolves or something?”

He frowned. “How do you know that?”

“Daniel and Mariela told me,” I said, munching on my open-faced sandwich, which was delicious.

“It's not curing so much as trying to figure out a way to reverse the transformation.”

“I could be normal again?”

He nodded. Then sighed. “Maybe.”

“Would it help the girls who are stuck in between?”

“It should … I hope so.”

“What if a werewolf doesn't want to take your antidote?”

His eyes narrowed. “You mean, like the Rojas pack? There's no way we can force every were to give up their animal side. There will always be Owens in the world—wanting the powers of a wolf but desperate to find a mate.”

Did
I
want to be cured? I wouldn't have to live with a secret for the rest of my life, and the fear of losing
control. But I'd have to give up the healing abilities, the strength, the heightened senses, and the freedom to run through the city unknown, with the wind in my fur.

Marlon sat there watching me, taking sips of his ginger beer. Did he realize what was going through my head? When we made eye contact again, he smiled solemnly.

“To feeling safe,” he said, holding his bottle toward me.

I clinked my glass against it and took a sip. Before I could lift my hand to wipe a drop off my lip, he'd leaned over and kissed it away. So much for safety! I gripped the counter and pushed into him. Heat burned between us.

He sprang back, nostrils flaring. “You were with
him
!”

My fingers flew to my still-tingling mouth. He was already on the other side of the room. My whole body felt cold now.

“Harris showed up at the wrong time,” I mumbled. “It was a mistake … I didn't think.”

He stared at the wall. “Forget it. You don't need to explain.”

“Yes, I do,” I insisted. “He's getting over Marie. And I'm … well … I've been trying to ignore my feelings for you.”

“So you jumped into bed with him?”

“If it makes you happier, I almost mauled him.”

He snorted. “A little. So … you have feelings for me?”

“I don't know. Yes. But it's a lot to take in. Figuring out what's going on with my body. There's a mutant weregirl living on my couch. And your brother almost killed me.
Twice.
”

Marlon gave me a funny look. “Listen, Sam—”

The apartment door flew open. Something tore through the living room.

Owen.

He stood in the kitchen, eyes flicking from Marlon to me. Then he growled and launched himself straight at my face, turning into a wolf in midair. I got my arms up in time to protect my head, but he slammed me backward into the table at a painful angle. I scissored my legs, smashing him in the gut. Owen's jaws snapped at my neck. I brought my elbows down on his head. He fell off me, catching my hip with a claw and shredding my jeans.

Suddenly he was yanked backward, away from me. His teeth gnashed in the air near my stomach. Marlon had transformed and was restraining his brother. He'd wrapped himself around Owen's midsection and sunk his claws like hooks into his brother's ribs. As Marlon
squeezed, blood sprayed the kitchen. It didn't help that Owen was flailing to get free. I pushed myself upright and transformed, ready to lunge.

Owen changed into his human shape and gasped for breath, but refused to stop struggling. “Let go of me! You knew I wanted her. You knew she was mine.”

“You didn't even know her,” grunted Marlon. He'd shifted back too, so fast I didn't see it. “You still don't. Leave her alone!”

My claws dug into the floor. I wanted to tear Owen apart, and the effort of holding back made me tremble. I could kill him so easily now that he was captive. Hurt him like he'd hurt those girls … He was powerless. As more blood flowed from his wounds the smell of rusted iron and salt filled my nose. His face began to turn blue. I shifted back to human, shaking, and was relieved to realize that all our clothes had remained intact, if a little stretched in odd places.

“There are so many other girls out there. Why did you have to steal mine?” Owen snarled at his brother.

“How many girls have you attacked?” I yelled at Owen. “Where's Sue?”

“Who cares? The others are all dead or mutant bitches. You're the only one who matters to me!” His face twisted into a grin that looked more wolf than human. “Marlon's won. Again. He's got the only perfect
female. He turned you, so he thinks he gets to keep you.”

He turned you …
“What'd you just say?” I yelled.

Marlon nearly lost his grip.

“You still haven't told her?” Owen said.

Was he telling me that Marlon was the wolf who bit me in Central Park?

I stared at Marlon, waiting for him to deny it. He was straining to keep hold of his brother, but the look on his face was all the proof I needed. He was my
maker,
not Owen. I scrambled away from them both, as far as I could get in the tiny room.

“It's an incredible rush, isn't it, brother?” growled Owen. “Releasing her inner wolf. I hate you, but I respect you for finally having the balls to do it.”

“I've defended you for years,” said Marlon, shaking his head. “But I'm through. I'm going to release you now, before you bleed to death, but if you're not on that plane tonight, you are no longer my brother. No longer part of my pack. I'll come after you and give back every ounce of pain you caused those girls.”

“As if you could,” said Owen, but he didn't sound too confident.

“And then,” said Marlon, “I'll tear out your throat.”

I backed up even farther into the corner and braced for another fight. But when Marlon let go,
Owen stumbled out of the kitchen. He glared at me with a viciousness that made my heart pound. I let out a warning hiss. Marlon growled and followed his brother.

As I came into the living room, Owen whirled around and grabbed an ornamental sword that was hanging on the wall. He lunged at Marlon. No, not ornamental—from the way Marlon dodged out of the way, that thing was obviously real.

“Marlon's always been the perfect son, the perfect brother,” Owen yelled at me as he swung. “Everything I do is wrong. I'm through pretending to be a good little wolf. I can't win.”

“Who keeps a
sword
in their apartment?” I shouted, scrambling up onto the couch.

Neither brother responded. They weren't interested in me at the moment. Owen cared only about slicing chunks off his brother. I whimpered as he jabbed through Marlon's pants, drawing blood from his thigh.

“It's silver!” yelled Marlon, grabbing his leg, then jumping backward as the sword arced inches away from his nose. “For self-defence.”

“Silver?” I yelled back. “Are you crazy?”

Marlon danced around as Owen began to jab wildly. I threw a footstool into the back of Owen's legs, hoping to knock him off balance. Instead, he stumbled
forward and poked Marlon in the shoulder with the sword tip. Marlon screamed in pain.

“If I kill you, she'll be mine again,” said Owen. “We're meant for each other.”

“No, we're not!” I shouted.

Owen pulled the sword free, held it up, and stabbed at his brother. Marlon jerked to the left— thank god. If the sword had hit its mark, it could've been a killing blow to the neck. Owen lowered the blade and stabbed again. This time Marlon tried to jump away, but the sword entered his abdomen— right at kidney level. Marlon seized the blade with his bare hands and held on, hollering as his brother twisted the sword.

“Stop!” I howled, pulling on Owen's arm.

Owen kicked me away before continuing to torture his brother, who yelped with every twist. “Unbelievable. You still care about him. He already stabbed me in the back. All I ever wanted was a mate. And now I have nothing.”

I picked up a chair, swung it over my head, and smashed it across Owen's back. He staggered and let go of the sword. Marlon yanked his brother's arm behind his back. I heard a
crack
. The arm went limp.

“Get the hell out of here!” Marlon yelled at me. He tried to move between me and Owen, but the sword
was still stuck in him, and blood was flowing all over the place. He was getting weaker and weaker.

I ignored Marlon's order and slammed into Owen from the side, pushing him toward the door. As I approached, ready to change shape and fight, Owen bolted out of the apartment.

I turned to Marlon, knowing I couldn't leave him there to die, even if he had made me into a monster. The fight was kind of my fault. Well, not my fault, but it was because of me? I couldn't think straight. I had no clue what to do. My
Guide to Shifters
didn't say how to cure a stab wound caused by a silver sword, just that it could be lethal. Should I remove the sword?

Marlon took the decision out of my hands and yanked it out of his abdomen himself. That didn't seem like a good move. He started bleeding even more. He slumped to the ground.

“I'm calling an ambulance,” I said, grabbing my phone, and hoping none of the neighbours had called the cops because of the noise.

“No! They can't help me. Call my parents …”

He recited their cell number. While I waited for them to pick up, Marlon passed out. I shook him gently. He didn't move. And the Lebruns' voicemail came on. Shit. I left a jumbled message.

I dug around in my bag for Daniel's card and called his number. He answered right away.

“Yeah?”

“Help me! Please. I don't know what to do.”

“Who is this?”

“The new weregirl!” I wailed. “Sam Lee. Lebrun pack. Owen just stabbed Marlon in the gut—and other places—with a silver sword. He's unconscious. I think he's going to die! I can't reach his parents! Should I call 911?”

“No. Definitely not. You're at his place?”

“Yes! What should I do?”

“Put pressure on the stomach wound. Use a clean towel. I'll be there in five minutes.”

I didn't bother to ask if he knew where Marlon lived or how he'd get here so fast. I tossed the phone down and took a towel from the closet. I held the towel against Marlon's stomach, terrified I wasn't doing it right. He was so pale and he wasn't waking up.

I called Queenie to tell her to be on her guard. Then I sat there, bawling like a baby as I held on to the stupid towel. This guy had saved my life, but he'd also doomed me to be a freak, to live a half-life, alienated from the people I loved. Then again, I'd already been a moody, introverted rock star who kept herself separate
from the world. Maybe this wasn't all that different. And I did care about him.

Daniel soon showed up, carrying glass jars filled with herbs. He pulled me off Marlon and removed the towel so that he could assess the situation. Sucking in a sharp breath, he opened one of his jars and sprinkled dried leaves onto the raw wound.

“What is that?” I asked, hovering over them. “He needs a doctor, not tea leaves.”

Daniel didn't look up.

“It's gonna hurt like hell, but it'll heal him.” Daniel packed on more herbs from a second jar. He didn't seem to care that he was getting blood all over himself. He rolled Marlon over and inspected his back. Then he moved on to the slices on Marlon's thigh, hands, and the hole in his shoulder. “He's going to be fine.”

“He doesn't look fine!”

“I got here in time, Sam. I promise you I'll take care of him—but I need to focus.”

I sagged in relief. “Thank you.”

He looked me up and down. “You're shaking. Go home and clean up. You're not gonna want to be here in about ten seconds. This apartment will be filled with a whole lot of wolves. We're stopping Owen tonight.”

Marlon's eyes fluttered open. He glanced from me to Daniel, who had pulled a wad of sterile gauze
from his pocket and was putting it on top of the herbs. “Leave, Sam,” he whispered. “Please. Owen might come back. My parents will be here soon.”

“I can't leave you—”

“Take my sword,” said Marlon, then he trembled and passed out again. Whatever the feud was between the Lebrun and Rojas families, Marlon trusted Daniel to do the right thing here. I prayed those dried herbs were actually helping. I touched Marlon's forehead, smoothing back his hair. Then I wiped his bloody sword on a towel and left.

NINETEEN

I
clomped down the stairs with Joan slung over my back, carrying the heavy silver sword in hands covered with dried blood. I wasn't even halfway down when the front door opened and Pierre and Françoise came rushing inside.

“Sam,” said Marlon's mother. “Thank you for calling, dear. How is he?”

“Not good but he's alive—Daniel Rojas is with him. Owen tried to murder Marlon with this sword.”