Page 25 of Bred By the Wolfman

The growl pours out of me before I can stop it. Both of them jerk, eyes darting around at the noise. I quickly duck around the corner toward my car, then climb in. I don’t realize I’m panting until the windshield starts to fog up.

She has someone. Someone who isn’t me.

My mind is ablaze with angry questions. Did she already have a partner when she let me fuck her full of my cub? Did I not have a chance to begin with? Or has she found this pathetic human man since her time with me?

Damn it. I squeeze the steering wheel tight. I fucked up by coming here. I should never have gone looking for her. I just didn’t imagine that...

What? That she had an entire life that existed before me, and she would have another one after? That’s an impossible ask. Her world doesn’t revolve around me, a total stranger. It was meant to be anonymous.

And yet, every last one of my instincts is rioting, demanding that I go back to that house and tear that man apart, limb from limb. She is mine, and surely she knows it.

I shake my head rapidly and plop my forehead onto the steering wheel. I can’t behave like that. I can’t even have thoughts like that. But it would be impossibly cruel of the world to match me up with the perfect woman if I can’t have her.

But that’s not why I’m here. I curl my hand into a fist and breathe deeply. I’m here to keep anything from happening to her. I’m here to make sure no danger comes near her or my cub.

I don’t have to be in her life to do it.

eleven

DEE

At least I’m not all alone anymore.

Robbie comes over a few times a week, and we go on walks with Boomer, cook dinner and fuck before we both pass out. I don’t love that he sleeps over, but I’m learning to accept it as long as he stays on his side of the bed.

The guy’s a lot softer than he seems at first, and likes having tender moments, which I do my best to reciprocate. I might even call him a little clingy with how often he texts and asks me out. Those are all qualities I should like in a partner, but it’s just not doing it for me.

No, if I’m telling the truth, all I want is to get utterly ravaged by my wolfman. More often than not when we’re in bed, that’s what I think about, instead. I feel bad imagining something else when Robbie’s inside me, and the feeling only gets worse the more time goes on.

I thought I’d have forgotten about the stranger at DreamTogether by now, but I just can’t seem to shake him.

At least the morning sickness has faded, but in its place has emerged a new complication. Food I used to love doesn’t taste as good as it once did, and I find myself lusting after things I’d never even considered delicious before. Robbie’s confused when I decline the breadsticks at Olive Garden and order the fish.

“Didn’t you say two weeks ago that you hate fish?” he asks, giving me a perplexed look.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It was just calling to me. I want that ocean smell.”

He shakes his head. “Pregnant ladies. What’ll it be next, haggis?”

I frown at him. It actually does sound good, but I definitely can’t say that.

Almost every time I see him, I worry that I’m using Robbie just for his companionship, not because I really care or lust for him. But I also don’t have the guts to tell him the truth, because in a way, he’s all I have.

Well, and Boomer. When Robbie’s not over, Boomer sits on the couch with me while I knit and watch television. We enjoy long walks, and often I bring a blanket to the park so we can sit together and watch people go by. I love his companionship, how easily he shows affection, how wonderful it is to show him affection in return. I have a timer set for his mealtimes, and I usually sneak a little bit of my dinner down to him, even though I know I shouldn’t. Probably the only downside is that sometimes at night, he’ll run to the sliding glass door that leads onto the balcony over the street and start barking like crazy, waking me up.

I don’t know what it is that he sees out there, but I hope his vision isn’t going bad. He’s older for a dog his size, I know, and the last thing I want is for anything bad to happen to him so soon. I’ve grown pretty attached in a short period of time, and I think he has, too. He loves to climb up on my lap and lick my face, as if he were a much smaller dog, and parks himself at the foot of my bed every night to watch over me.

As much as I love my new apartment, though, and as well as my plants have taken to the new balcony, recently I’ve started feeling... unsettled. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but it’s like a tickle at the base of my neck I can’t scratch away. I mostly feel it during the day, or late at night when Boomer wakes me up. Sometimes I think I see a black car following me when I do errands, and other times I notice strange shadows while I’m walking the dog.

Maybe pregnancy hormones are making me crazy. All sorts of other things have changed, so it wouldn’t surprise me. And yet, as the weeks crawl by, I can’t shake the sense that someone is watching me.

So I keep Boomer at my side at all times. I leave my lights on in the living room, even at night, to ward off anyone who might try to break in. Maybe I’m paranoid.

Life falls into a new pattern anyway, though, and I flow along with it. Once or twice a week I meet up with Liesel. Finally, I introduce her to Robbie, but as usual I can’t read her at all. He’s clearly unsettled by her, but puts on his game face because she’s my best friend.

The next day, I call her up on the phone to get her opinion.

“Hmm,” is all she says. “That’s how I feel about him.”

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