Tommy? My heart lurched. I suddenly wanted to cry. I knew it wouldn’t be Tommy.
Tears welled up. All I wanted right then was Tommy to walk out and say, “Move, Le.” Sniff.
But no. It was Daddy.
Of all the people, I never expected him to show up. I tipped my head, and let the tears fall.
He looked at my hair, and I saw the hurt in his eyes, the tremble of his lips. And the way he didn’t let his gaze stray lower.
I felt suddenly naked. I know that sounds silly. But I covered my breasts with my arms and tentatively said, “Daddy?”
I couldn’t judge his mood. He stared at me for ageless minutes.
Finally, he said, “Letha.” That’s all. He didn’t hold his arms out to me, to invite me into his embrace. Not that I expected that, exactly. But he wasn’t looking at me with the hated, horrid disapproval that he’d always shown before. In fact, there was a deadness in his gaze.
I repeated, “Daddy?” I wanted him to tell me I could come out of the water. That he’d take me home.
When he did speak, it was very calm. Deadly quiet. “I thought I couldn’t die twice, but I was wrong.”
I didn’t know what he meant. Confusion had to be spread across my features. I took a step toward him, swishing the water. But he shook his head--not wanting me to come closer.
“I can’t let you do this to Tommy and Leo any more.” Wooden monotone. Bleak nothingness.
“Daddy?”
“They aren’t coming for you this time, Le.”
Arrow to my heart.
Belly spasm to my soul.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask if they were all right. I didn’t question what he said. I knew the stone cold truth. I was on my own.
I couldn’t even ask how he’d found me. How long he’d watched me.
And I couldn’t bring myself to beg--for what I knew I didn’t deserve.
Daddy surprised me, though, by saying, “I don’t hate you, Le. I want you to know that.”
For bringing the dogs down on us. For getting Tommy hurt. For leaving?
He left me standing there. And as much as I wanted to chase after him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just stood there, aching, sniffling, sucking it up, knowing I deserved...what?
The nothing he’d left me with.
I couldn’t blame him. I’d done the unforgivable. Run with a garou, and not come home. I wondered if...no, I knew. They’d picked up my trail, sniffed Bark behind me, following. Probably had plenty of time to check out that hill, and add up all the facts. And see that I’d made a choice when I ran from the compound.
It may have looked like I was saving my own ass, but I’d really been running so Barklay would chase me. So they wouldn’t kill him.
That lake drew cold around me. My skin puckered, made me shrivel like my heart.
If Daddy had followed my trail to the lake, he surely had come across Bark at some point. To say I felt totally bereft is an understatement. Total stillness surrounded me. The water didn’t ripple. The wind didn’t blow. Not even a breeze.
No dragonflies buzzed. No birds squawked.
Part of me understood the deadness that had been in Daddy’s eyes, then. How many times I’d tried to shock that out of him, or make him laugh, or anything. Anything that would make him feel for me. Make him forget my mother, and what she’d done.
How she’d left us all aching.
I dragged myself from the lake, when I was shivering so much that I couldn’t stand it--when it finally sunk in. But once I got to the bank, I didn’t know where to go, so I stood there dripping.
Looking around.
Thinking aloud, “What are you gonna do now, Le?”
Chapter Eight
“What do you wanna do?” Bark’s voice came out of nowhere, startled the hell out of me.
I looked for him, but couldn’t see him. My pulse picked up. “Bark?”
Hoarse dog laugh, a little pained. “Were you expecting someone else?”
Peering into the shadows, I shook my head. “No, but--”
“From what I understand...when Lionel Felini says something, it’s usually true.”
“It is.” I frowned, tipping my head. “What do you mean?”
“He said they weren’t coming for you.”
Can you be cut to the breastbone twice from the same arrow? Yes.
Tears welled up more. What could I say?
“You want them to come.” It came out on a growl, accompanied by a red flash from Bark’s eyes. I saw him then, by a tree. One hand wrapped. He sagged into it, letting the strength of one arm, and an old Oak, hold him up.
In crinos.
Covered in blood. Raw wounds. Fresh.
At first I was in too much shock to move. Then too horrified...for him. When I got my legs to work, and started toward him, I had a sudden thought. Had he fought with Daddy? That made me pause.
His gaze narrowed. He knew what I was thinking.
My eyes went over him. The gashes were deep. Cat strikes. The claw marks were unmistakable.
“Oh, Bark...” Bile rose inside my throat.
He waited for me to ask about Daddy. Or to say something more. Truth? I didn’t want to know. I’d faced enough honesty for a lifetime.
Had a new take on that. Maybe all that lying my family had done wasn’t so bad after all. I mean, if it was to stop me from feeling--
Bark closed his eyes. Pain? Blood dribbled, the wounds were so fresh. He whispered, as if completely out of strength. “Lie to me, Le,” and he fell forward, landing at my feet.
Of course, I scrambled backward, so he wouldn’t take me down, too, before I dropped to my knees, saying, “Oh, Gaia. Oh, Gaia. Bark!”
He groaned, trying to push himself up. I was pulling, trying to roll him over. Together, we managed to get him on his side. The fall caused blood to pool in small, fist-sized puddles. I didn’t know where to touch him, without hurting him.
“Oh, Bark. Bark.” I kept repeating his name. “I’m so sorry.”
I kissed his face, rather desperately. Squeezed my cheek to his temple. Realized he was partially shifting beneath me. The minute he started to morph, he whined in pain.
That set me off on a whole new set of ‘Oh, Bark. I’m so sorrys’.
His head fell, tiredly, resting on my bare knees. I swear, I thought he was dying. Almost dead. His eyes closed. He let out a groan.
I smoothed my fingers through his hair. Dropped another kiss. Arched over him. That’s one of the great things about being a cat. We’re very limber. Able to do things that seem--
Very poignant, that touching moment. Losing him.
That heart I thought had been broken in two by Daddy?
Shattered.
I don’t know how long I leaned over him, stroking his head, kissing his temple, whispering how much I loved him, begging him not to die--sure that he was in the grasp of death already.
So, it was a bit of a shock when he moved, with another groan, and looked up at me--yes, with a wolfish grin--to say, “I died and went to heaven, right?”
Straightening my back, lifting my hand without thinking, I blinked. “What?”
I hadn’t processed that he was reviving, not dying.
That son of a bitch’s tongue flicked out...licking my fur in a devilish swoop, and he rolled nose first into my thighs, muttering, “Don’t move, Le.”
To say I was too stunned at first to think...?
Master Tongue reached into me, lapped, slipped right into the folds of my womanhood and then rumbled from his chest.
I put my hands on the side of his face, but didn’t pull him up. It felt too good to make him quit. I did say, “Gaia. You are
such
a dog.”
Epilogue
We never went back. How could we?
His pack would have killed him--for bringing on the war--because he was chasing pussy, literally.
And you know how things are with my--well, you know.
Doesn’t mean I don’t think about them, or worry, or wonder what they do for entertainment these days, without me to chase around.
I did find out what Bark had been doing in the lane that night we met. Said he’d got a tip about an embezzler. I guess Wolf Enterprises has internal problems. He wanted to go back and fix them, but?
He’s got a brother, Mark. And he’s pretty confident that
he’ll
come home and take care of things, figure out the mess he left behind. Not that Mark would understand about us.
It doesn’t seem to bother Bark, though.
He just laps up the attention I give him. Says he’d rather spend a day with me than a lifetime somewhere else. I’m so grateful that he doesn’t make me feel bad for taking him away from everything.
We don’t talk about my family. He never brings them up and neither do I. Sometimes I think about that moment before he fell at my feet, and I wonder...what, exactly, did he mean?
Do I want them to come for me?
But I don’t dwell on that much--because his next words, when I thought he was dying--mean so much more. “Lie to me.”
He doesn’t want to know the answer to his question. Which is probably why I dwelt on it until I finally figured out the answer.
No.
I don’t want anyone to come for me, ever again, except Bark.
Here’s something that’s funny...after he licked me...? You know, when I thought he was dying...? He lifted his head and said, “You are
so
lucky.”
Of course, I was thinking
and how
.
But he elaborated with, “I am too worn out to hunt down anybody else...today.” Exhausted, he dropped his nose back between my legs, sighed with pleasure.
I squeezed my thighs. I know he likes the feel of my skin on the sides of his face.
Okay. Giggle. He was talking about the fact that he’d come--snicker--to the realization that he didn’t want me with other men--as much a turn-on as that had been the first time we were together. He’d been making himself crazy, as he followed my trail, with the thought that I might have sex with someone else before he got to me.
Isn’t that funny?
So he huffed out air, warming my twat with his want.
“Oh,” I melted internally, became liquid instantly. Had to give in. Like that was a sacrifice, ha! Laid back, spread my legs, and let him really nose up. After a moan or two of pleasure, I had to ask, “What do you mean?” I swear, it’s hard to think when he’s doing that. Takes my brain a few minutes to process.
Growling rumbles. His.
“I’m serious, Bark. What are you talking about?”
Moaning. Hissing gasps of pleasure. Those were mine.
“Mm.”
Orgasmic aahing. Arching. Reaching.
As pained as he was, he pawed his way up and over me, pinned me, and looked down at my face, demanding, “Do that again, cat.”
“Wha--what?”
You know how it is after you’ve hit the chasm. You’re not thinking
at all
.
“Oh.” I smiled. “I fully intend to.” But I needed to rest up first. “Right after I collapse here.”
Exasperated, he asked, “Am I gonna have to--”
That’s when I felt the stump, throbbing, begging to be let in. Correction, whole friggin’ tree. And caught up with the “Do that again, cat.” Cry in pleasure? Hit an orgasm?
And...is he gonna have to again?
Oh,
hell
yeah.
I flashed my pretty greens at him, twisted my lips and said, “Shut up and kiss me.”
He wagged. Literally wagged. No tail, full human, but still. And he climbed right up into me, and pressed down his burliness on my whole form--gave me all of him--
collapsed into the embrace
.
Gasps. Both of us. Pained gasps.
So
tight.
No
lubrication. Extra, anyway. And he had wounds.
But it felt so good. Felt like something to hang on to. You know, hold the moment forever until it all eased.
That didn’t last long, though. Not long enough, anyway. I told you that patience isn’t a strong suit for him.
He rolled me. Went right over to his back, and pushed me up into a sitting position in one smooth action. Begging, “Cat...Letha...can you...?”
His head fell back, and he closed his eyes, moaned. I wasn’t sure if he’d passed out or what. I mean, now we were both covered in blood. But he wasn’t oozing--that--any more.
Don’t be grossed out by that. Remember, we like blood and body fluids. We enjoy doing it ‘in heat.’ We’re animals. It all washes off.
While I sat there, wondering if he was out--or dying--I watched the wounds heal. Saw his face go in and out of crinos, blinking, I guess, as his body tried to take care of itself. Talk about the war within.
I tried to keep up with him, shifting too. You know. I don’t like
weird
sex.
Finally, he peeked out at me, grinning with that wolfish, happy dog pleasure of his. Rolled his eyes. And said, “Would you stop teasing me?”
So, that made me laugh. I thumped him. He jumped, with a growl of pain.
I eeked, “Sorry!”
He rolled me again, nuzzling into my neck, growled with pleasure, stuck his nose in my ear, and said, “You really are a pain, Le.”
It may seem crazy to you, but it felt so good. I felt home.
Loved.
I flipped a crinos,
rolled him
, fluttered my eyelashes right up close, gave him another flash of who I really was, and hissed, “How high can you count?”
Bark is not a slow-head. He growled, rolled me.
Yeah. You can see that we were all over the place. Obviously, he wasn’t feeling so bad there. And yeah, we were locked up, he was still inside of me. So this was some fancy, ouchy rolling. Mostly, it had to go fast so he wouldn’t squish my legs, which were riding up around him.
Guess he totally understood what Leo and Tommy had meant about him being number nine. Maybe he read their minds? Or mine?
He told me, unequivocally, harshly, “One.”
Dead serious, his forehead against mine, he looked me directly in the eye and said, “
One
.”
I got the message. No more screwing around.
But the imp in me smiled and asked, “One...three times?”
* * * * * * *
Okay. No.
One
...nine times.
* * * * * * *
You may want to know that he and Daddy never got into it. So, yeah. We had
one
conversation about this.
A pride of natural cats caught him--when he was chasing my tail. Almost killed him.
He said that Daddy went past while it was happening. Distracted him during the fight, actually. Not that he said or did anything--but run by.
“You know what almost killed me, puss?”
Worn out, lying flat out on our backs, staring up at the sky, there by the lake. I thought he’d fallen asleep. Gaia knows I almost had.
But we were only up to eight. And you know how that is. He had a quota to fill at that point. We were working on...multiples of three.
That’s a thing about garou--something I never knew before. They set goals. Make plans. You gotta fall in with ‘em, or die trying.
You can run, but you can’t hide.
They always chase.
They never give up.
It’s a lot of fun.
I had no idea what had almost killed him. Except what we’d been doing. Ya know? Gaia knew it was doing me in.
“What?”
Silence stretched.
His hand reached out, across the mud and grass, and found me, tangled with my fingers. I heard him breathe heavy. Like he was having a hard time telling me. Picking his words.
I propped myself up, let go with a little fling--he didn’t want to release me--scooted over on my side, and set a hand on his big chest. Twirled my fingers, without thinking, in the wiry hair there. “What?”
His chest heaved. Guess he was reliving the minute. Minutes. Hours?