Winter Howl (Sanctuary) (5 page)

Britt removed the hand, and her placatory grin was a little wry. “Sorry, was I pushing things?”

The ‘no’ caught in Renee’s throat, but she was able to say, “Wasn’t sure what to make of it. I need to go check supplies in the shifters’ barn.”

“Sorry,” Britt said.

“No. Don’t be.” And that she said it meant that it was true.

* * * *

Renee left the house and retrieved her scarf and coat from the truck. The sun was going down fast, and she was going to get chilly very soon.

Her feet crunched on stray brown leaves as she walked down to the second barn, where the set-up favoured the shapeshifters who occasionally preferred to be human. Renee provided each shapeshifter with a bathrobe, but as long as it was okay for them, and they felt no shame in their human skins, they were free to eschew clothing altogether. Renee had no trouble looking at naked people with their beauty and their flaws, ever since Henry, one of their first shapeshifters. It had taken Seward and Frances a little time to accept this, especially with their young Renee seeing everything. But after a while, they relaxed the necessity for some kind of clothing cover. If they were okay with Renee seeing nature take its course with the dogs, they figured that knowing the human body would not be too traumatic for a seven-year-old.

Renee entered the barn to hear Ki clanking pots and pans as she fixed a stir-fry for the dozen or so shapeshifters who did not eat with the core pack. There were forty cots on one side of the room and five beds. Renee was working on getting five more. Some of the shapeshifters slept with the dogs, on the property or in the dog barn, but most slept in their human skins in the shifters’ barn because the sleep was more satisfying. The beds were usually reserved according to seniority or physical need. Most of the transients slept on the cots softened by additional mattress pallets, which were more comfortable than they sounded. Every once in a while, Renee bought more clothing from secondhand stores during her summer visits to town, and she kept these in boxes on the shelves along the barn wall. People could take what they needed and put it in the small chests at the end of their beds.

If any of the shapeshifters had been confrontational, the set-up might not have worked so well, but in general, shapeshifters who came to the sanctuary wanted to avoid conflict. There were fights now and then, typical as much in human nature as in canine, but they were usually easily resolved. At least, Renee had never heard any complaints. There had only been one shapeshifter that they had ever had to throw out—she had been placid when sober but raging when drunk. The sanctuary had had to reject more dogs than people.

The laundry machines—three washers, three dryers, all donated—were adjacent to the kitchen area, and a door next to the two stoves led to a huge walk-in freezer for the bulk supplies, which would last a season and sometimes more. It was connected to a separate emergency generator in case the electricity went out during storms.

“Everything kosher, commander?” asked one of the older shapeshifters—Dusty, who could turn into a dachshund and hound mix—as he rested on a bed. He had hurt his foot by stepping on it wrong when climbing out of one of the trees during a routine trim. It did not seem to be broken, but it was swollen, so it might have been strained or sprained. He was supposed to stay off his feet until he was better—at least, until he could put his weight on it again. They could not bring a doctor up. The shapeshifters did not want to be noticed. They only involved hospitals when there was an absolute emergency.

Renee nodded. “New blankets needed?”

“Sir, no, sir,” Dusty replied.

“Stand down, soldier,” Renee said, with a completely straight face. Dusty looked as if he wasn’t sure whether she was being serious or not.

Renee left the shifters’ barn and walked a little way to the dog barn. Most of the dogs were out and about, although that would end soon when Max and Malcolm began feeding them. That could be something of an arduous process, especially when it came to giving everyone their fair share.

The dog barn, unlike the human barn—which could resemble a decent halfway house at the best of times—was something of a dog heaven, although most of their play time was outside. There were old couches, chairs, and dog beds, all donated or bought from Freecycle and Craigslist—it did not matter how beaten up the couch was as long as it was clean. There were also plenty of dog toys, donated new from people around the country as well as purchased with monetary donations, strewn all over a sawdust- and hay-covered dirt floor. At the back, there were two rooms for new puppies. There were another two rooms above the puppy rooms that acted as sickrooms for quarantine.

There were only a few dogs in the dog barn at the moment, and one cat. Butch Cassidy was a tough tom who looked as if he had had a hard life, which was part of the reason why he had never been adopted through the website. The funny thing about Butch Cassidy was that he was a tremendously affectionate cat—although he did not get along well with other cats, he very much liked spending time with the dogs and humans. He hit dogs across the face whenever they got uppity, but he was a purring fuzzball the rest of the time. He only looked ragged and diseased, even though most of his bald spots were from old fights and he was given a clean bill of health every time the vet came by.

One of the chocolate labs, Betsy, was nursing a paw, licking it and biting at it, and Renee caught sight of a little blood, so she went over and stroked Betsy’s head gently to distract her. Upon closer inspection, it just looked as if there had been a splinter or a misstep, so Renee kissed Betsy behind the ear and let her take care of it as nature intended. She would have to notify Malcolm of the problem, if he did not already know.

Renee shook her head as she returned to the house—two thousand five hundred square feet of log cabin, with three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a great living room and dining room open area, a patio, and a greenhouse connecting to the kitchen. In addition to her computer duties, she was the one who mostly took care of the greenhouse and garden, although Max and Jake helped with some of the heavy grunt work during harvest. Since the bulk of the harvest had finished around a month ago, most of the outside garden work had ended for the season, at least until it was time to plant seeds again. But the greenhouse duties never ended, and Renee liked that kind of hands-on work.

She walked into the house and heard that some members of her staff were enjoying a different kind of hands-on work. The realisation that sex of the non-canine variety happened in her sanctuary—in her home—had made her blush in her late years of high school after she had walked in on Ki and Max, then later on, Jake and Britt. It had since become something she was used to, and she mostly stayed out of the way when she heard certain sounds coming from the bedrooms in the back of the house or from Renee and Britt’s room, which was actually a loft above the great room. It was blocked off by a waist-high wall and a curtain to hide the rest. But a curtain did not always do enough to hide the gasps and pants, and even restrained groans, when Jake and Britt decided to get involved up there rather than in Jake’s room, which he shared with Leslie. Which, Renee thought, would be more considerate. At least that room had four walls, a door, and a doorknob to put a sock on.

To their credit, they were trying to be quiet since they were in a less private place. But trying to be quiet and being quiet were two different things. Renee sighed and sat on the sofa to wait them out. The most frustrating part about it was not the way that things creaked or the way their breathing incited a certain number of enticing visuals. The most frustrating part was that she could not go into her room to deal with the tingling between her legs from hearing them.

She had never been very good at getting herself off. Ever since she was thirteen and Britt had asked her, bold as brass, whether she’d ever masturbated, she had tried now and then. But it had only resulted in reaching a certain point and simply plateauing or even falling off, leaving her frustrated, with her pubic bone feeling a little abused and her hands dirty. But she knew that Britt could masturbate just fine, and Renee had never really figured out what the secret was. It was like trying to tickle herself—it was never as good as someone else tickling you. At least, that was Renee’s working theory. It wasn’t as if she knew.

When Renee had turned eighteen, Britt had gifted her with a standard vibrator in secret—that kind of gift, you did
not
unwrap in front of your father—and that had been a revelation. It had been exactly what she’d needed, and in retrospect, it could have been the first clue that Britt might fancy her just a little bit. Within just two minutes of switching it on and bringing it against her clit, the orgasm had come over her in an overwhelming wave, as though it had just been waiting to flood the dam.

In that way, Renee could understand how Britt could tell her that she wasn’t frigid. But being able to bring oneself off was no indication that she could allow someone else to do the same. Or whether she really wanted to. Although if she were to let anyone try, she supposed she could trust Jake or Britt. If she were to let them, they would respect her boundaries and the kinds of things that she needed.

And the very thought of that made Renee look around to make sure she was alone in the great room before sliding a hand under her jeans. This was just a quick, light taste of what she would give to herself when she could get into the bathroom or the closet—the two places where she could truly have privacy. Or when she could get to one of those detachable showerheads that she had put into all the bathrooms, including the stall showers in the shapeshifters’ barn. On the sofa, she lightly rubbed the fabric of her underwear up and down and in small circles just above her clitoris, against that sensitive spot where her pubic bone was hard against her fingertips.

The litany of gasps and stifled groans from the loft began to increase in pace, and Renee imagined the way that Britt would be riding Jake. Britt had once told Renee she liked being on top, and in spite of his alpha status as a dog, Renee didn’t think Jake would mind relinquishing power in the bedroom. Britt could be wild sometimes, and the creaks of the bed indicated just how wildly Britt was thrusting. Down around Jake’s erection, squeezing him with her thighs and with other things, truly riding him. Soon, she would whimper in
that
way, the way she whimpered when she was about to reach her climax, that deliciously clenching feeling right before the orgasm collapsed into a momentary peace. Renee had heard it some nights when the rustling of the bed clothes could not be explained by tossing and turning or scratching an itch—or at least not the itch Britt had meant when she’d initially tried to explain it away. Eventually, both of them had grown used to just letting themselves be girls. If they needed privacy more than convenience, they would kneel in the bathroom or the walk-in closet. But if it was night time, anything was allowed. Heavy breathing from either of their beds was generally ignored, as was a light hum if Renee was using her vibrator.

There it was, that whimper that Renee had been listening for, and the quiet curse from Jake as the noise of the bedsprings quickened forcefully. Britt came before he did, and there was a spike of pleasure as Renee pressed against that spot just above her clit a little harder. Then there were the last few grunts from Jake, which told Renee that he had not been far behind. Britt was always quick, at least for a woman—as far as Renee knew. Renee had always climaxed pretty quickly with a vibrator, although it could take her much longer when she was waiting for a dead vibrator to be replaced.

There were about five minutes of soft whispers, post-coital bliss, and Renee slowed down her strokes. She would have her time as soon as those bastards got out of the room. She smiled tightly as she thought of them walking out right then, finding her with her hand in her pants right after they’d had sex in her room. She was a little self-conscious as she heard the first creaks from the floorboards in the loft, and she withdrew her hand quickly, although she did not try to hide it. Britt would catch on to that immediately if she were to walk out of the room right then.

Then Britt laughed and Renee knew it was probably safe to go up to her room, but she would still wait for them to start coming down the stairs, just to be more polite than they were—going at it in her room when there were steaks to be cooked. Not that it took long when most of them liked rare meat, with the odd exception of Leslie and Ki. And, goddamn it, she needed to come now that she’d got herself started. It was almost unpleasant, the warmth and slight throbbing between her legs. It had been even more unpleasant when she had not known what it meant in her younger years.

“Quite finished?” she asked as Jake pushed back the curtain and started down the stairs with Britt at his heels. The two of them shared a self-satisfied look. There was no guilt—guilt was not an issue in their household. Just inconvenience.

“Quite,” Jake replied. “What do you want to go with your steak? We have some eggplant…”

“Go wash your hands before you cook, the both of you,” Renee said. “Eggplant is fine.” She stood from her place on the sofa and headed up the stairs herself.

“You’ll be down soon?” Britt asked.

“Yes. A few minutes.”

“And the rest of the evening will go as usual?” Jake asked.

“Yes. Okay.”

“You know, I think she heard us,” Jake murmured to Britt as they headed into the kitchen together.

“Heard us? I think she was listening,” Britt said, not quite as quietly as Jake, which meant that she’d intended for Renee to hear her. Renee grinned, then briskly went up the last few steps.