Page 11 of Bred By the Wolfman

We went at it for so long that someone had to storm in and interrupt us just to make us stop. The attendant circles around to check on me in the restraints while the wolfman starts shuffling around like he’s putting on his clothes.

He hisses a curse under his breath. With her here, there’s no sharing details about our lives that might lead us back to each other again. Neither of us speaks as he’s hurried out by the attendant, too aware of the cameras listening.

Eventually, the door opens again, and the wolfman departs. When he’s gone, the attendant helps me down from the bench, and I’m red where I was pressed hard against the cushions, but I’m otherwise fine.

Though a lot of liquid does drizzle down my thigh when I get up.

I drive my car home in a kind of daze, a big, thick wall between me and my emotions. Something happened today, or maybe it was just part two of what started happening the first time we met in that sterile room.

There must be a way to contact him somewhere along the line. Maybe after the baby is born, I could have some kind of visitation, even if it’s just to see Bill again.

But the moment I think it, I know there’s no world in which that’s allowed. It defeats the entire purpose, after all. He came to DreamTogether for a reason, for privacy, for no strings attached, and that’s what he’ll get with me if I want to keep this job. If I were to find out who he was, if I were to contact him outside the company, I would never get another chance at this. They would terminate me immediately upon the birth.

I park, then climb out and drift back to my dumpy apartment, to the planters where I’ve put my two flowers and my basil. They’re already looking as wilted as I feel. Maybe I don’t water them enough, or maybe I water them too much?

I head back inside and sit down on the couch, wondering what I do next while I wait. Signing up with DreamTogether had, well, looked like a dream come true for me. But now I’m here, simply hoping that I’ll get to see Bill again.

I can’t think like that. When this is over, we’ll have nothing to do with each other.

Don’t get attached.

RUSS

I don’t hear anything after our second “session.” One week passes, then two weeks. I hope that it didn’t take. I know it’s unlikely after how many times I pumped all my hot come into her, but I still hold out for the news that she’s not pregnant yet, and I’ll have to come back again.

Why did I leave without saying anything to her? Why did I let them hurry me out without at least getting her name?

Because I was drunk on her. Because there are eyes and ears everywhere inside DreamTogether, and I could have lost my chance completely at having a cub if I fucked it up.

I should have risked it anyway, for my woman. My mate.

After our experience together, I know it, in my bones and sinew. My blood pumps for her, my body craves her, my soul longs for her. But I don’t know who she is, or where to find her.

Then I get the call. My heart plummets when I see the number on my screen.

“Yes?” I answer drearily.

“Mr. Cohen?”

“That’s me.”

“Congratulations!” I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “We just received word that your surrogate is now pregnant. There will be no need for a third appointment.”

For a brief moment I think that I won’t have to shell out for an extra month on top of the whole package price I already paid. But what I wouldn’t give right now to have that one extra visit.

At the mere idea that Amanda—or whoever she really is—my mate, is carrying my cub... all of my instincts come to life. I growl into the phone.

“I need her number,” I say in a voice so low that even I don’t recognize it.

“What?” The woman on the other end is silent for a moment. “Sir, you know we won’t give that to you.”

“I need her number!” I roar.

“And I need you to calm down,” the woman says, now irritated. “You signed up for this. This is what you wanted. I promise, what you’re feeling now will pass soon, and then all your dreams will come true.”

That fucking tag line.

I smash the button to end the call and pace around my kitchen, then slam my fist into the stainless steel stovetop. The whole appliance shakes underneath me.

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