Page 45 of Bred By the Wolfman

But then I remember. “He bit me, Liesel.” I pull down the collar of my shirt to show her the angry red scabs on my shoulder. “He said he was marking me.”

“That was one of the symptoms on the list, so I’m not surprised,” she says. “He didn’t ask you first?”

I frown. “No! We were in the middle of, well, you know.”

She nods sagely. “Heat of the moment.”

I squint at Liesel. “You think I should forgive him,” I say, as a statement and not a question.

Her neutral expression finally gives way to something that looks almost like pity. “I think you should do what you want to do,” she says, more fervently. “Not what you have to do.”

“What I have to do,” I say, “is break up with Robbie tonight. And then maybe I can decide what to do about Russ.”

Liesel nods. “I believe that is a smart course of action.” She gets to her feet, and offers me the slightest smile. “You’ll be okay, Dee. You know how to take care of yourself. But think hard about what will actually make you happy.”

When Liesel’s finally gone, I sit down at the table and my hand drops to my belly. Little guy, it’s a tricky world out here, I think. What will become of this baby once it’s all over?

It belongs to Russ, I suppose. Not me.

Let me watch over you and our cub. We’ll raise it together.

That’s what he wants. He wants a wife and a child, a mate and a cub, like every wolfman before him. But this was supposed to be simple. I was supposed to have the baby and then be done, wipe my hands of it and walk away free. I never agreed to start a family with him. That wasn’t what I wanted out of this, not at all.

Then why does it sound so good?

After I’ve watered the plants—which have multiplied in great numbers, and I’ve had to separate out a few into new pots—my phone buzzes. It’s Robbie, letting me know he’s on the way to the restaurant.

Fuck. None of that other stuff matters until I resolve this.

eighteen

RUSS

I don’t go back to Dee’s house the next day. It takes all of my willpower not to drive my familiar route to her neighborhood, to make sure that she and the cub are all right after last night. I wasn’t gentle with her, when maybe I should have been.

But she won’t want to see me. And as soon as Boomer barks, she’ll know I’m there, violating her space.

Damn it. How did I fuck this up so badly?

Instead of going to Dee’s house, I get in my car and head north. I drive an hour, then two, until I reach the Sandy Hill Wilderness Area. It’s all wild terrain out here, not managed by any of the parks departments.

And it’s one of the only legal places I can go hunting. I have far too much pent-up hurt inside me, an ocean of self-pity, and this is the only way I can get it out without tracking down my woman and fucking her again wherever I find her.

I pull over to the side of the road when I can’t take it any longer. After having Dee last night, she’s the only thing in my thoughts. I can feel her soft body in my arms, her sweet pussy clenching around me, her hands woven through my fur.

I let out an unbridled roar of fury when I remember how she told me in no uncertain terms that I was not welcome in her life any longer, that our connection doesn’t mean to her what it does to me.

Will I spend the rest of my years longing for her, wishing for her, and I won’t get to have her? Raising our cub without her...

I hastily take off my shirt and my jeans, my hands trembling, then fold them up and leave them in my car with the key on top. If someone wants to steal it, fine. I don’t care anymore.

With a final deep breath, I fall down to four legs and lope away into the woods.

The scent of pine fills up my nose as I dive into the trees. The brush is thick here, overgrown, and the fallen needles crinkle under my feet. I run and run, sniffing the air, checking out trees where animals might have been. I pick up the scent of some rabbits, but that’s not what I’m after.

I need something big, something dangerous, something that will make me battle for my victory. If I can’t drown myself in Dee, I’ll drown myself in blood.

Then, I stumble upon it: the musk of a deer, a whole herd of them. My mouth waters, and the hair on my back bristles as I search for the direction it’s coming from. I lope onward, catching the scent again on a tree trunk, where some bark has been torn away.

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