Page 109 of White Wolf

She snorted in obvious agreement.

The guards stationed at the gate spared them only a passing glance, but didn’t try to stop them. Once they were clear, Sasha broke into an easy jog, long legs eating up the distance, the wolves loping alongside and behind him, tongues lolling as they smiled happy, wolfish smiles.

Sasha smiled too, laughing, giddy with the sense of freedom, of possibility, of being where he belonged. He was different now, and he didn’t regret it, not at all. He was something Dr. Ingraham could never quantify in his test tubes and charts. He waswild. No one could take that from him, no matter what happened, and for the moment, he was glad.

24

CHOICES

The base had a crude rifle range and that was where Katya spent her afternoon, bits of cotton stuffed in her ears, knocking out the centers of targets. She earned some appreciative whistles and catcalls from the male soldiers – as much for her ass, she knew, as for her aim – but none of them offered to get too close to her. Going off into the woods with a wolf-boy, a magic man, and a group of Cheka had served her well in that sense; they all thought she was spoken for – or maybe cursed.

Maybe she was.

Somethingwas nagging at her, after, when the sun started to dip and she went inside to shower and change. She had a stare-down with her reflection while she toweled and then braided her hair, looking for clues to her melancholy in the tightness around her eyes.

Nikita had given her a choice. Go to Stalingrad and join the war efforts there, or go with them to Petrograd. Only, she was a soldier, so “choice” wasn’t really the word for it. Still. She could choose not to go, and Nikita would go to her superiors and tell them they were no longer in need of her services, thank you very much. So. Some choice. One that wasn’t any easier now than it had been in the woods.

She tied off her braids, tossed her towel in the hamper, and headed to the mess hall.

She went around the first bend in the hallway and found Nikita there, hands clasped loosely in front of him, shoulders braced back against the wall. He wore his long, black leather coat, and something in his stance made her think he was on sentry duty.

“What are you doing?” she asked, not stopping, and he peeled off the wall and fell into step beside her.

“It looked like a good spot to stand for a while,” he said, in a voice she’d since learned was too casual. When he really didn’t care he sounded bored; this flat, toneless voice was hiding something, and she prided herself on knowing that.

“Right outside the bathroom? That struck you as a good spot?” She darted a glance to the side and caught the faint pink stain of a blush creeping up his neck. “Were you waiting for me, Captain Baskin?” she teased.

He shrugged, and the blush spread, licked up over the harsh line of his jawbone. “Could be.”

Katya chuckled. “You’re not very good at this, you know.”

“I know.” He sighed, and she felt a light touch on her elbow. He halted in the middle of the hall and urged her to do the same. Turned to face her, expression grave. His gray-blue eyes were large in the gloom of the hallway…and touched with worry. “I know I’m not good at it. I’m.” He sighed again, a quick, frustrated breath through his nose. “In my line of work, being what I am – it hasn’t given me many chances to practice.”

“Oh god.” She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a horrified laugh. “You aren’t saying that you’re a…?” She didn’t mean for her eyes to stray to the front of his trousers, really she didn’t, but her horror was so great – and hilarious – that she couldn’t help a quick glance.

“What? No.” His blush crept up into his cheeks, high and bright across his beautiful cheekbones. “No, notthat. Christ. I meant.” He was discomfited, and it was adorable. “Imeantthat most respectable ladies like yourself think – well, you know what they think. We aren’t exactly the types invited to parties. I’ve never properly courted anyone, is what I mean. It’s just been…well, you don’t want to hear about whores and – fuck, why am I doing this so badly?”

Katya giggled into her hand. There was a lightness in her chest now that she hadn’t felt since before her family was killed, and she wanted to kiss him for giving her that – she wanted to kiss him for a lot of reasons at this point, but right now, that was the main one.

“That’s alright,” she said. “I was a little afraid you’d say you’d never, um,been–”

“I have,” he rushed to say, blushing wildly.

“Good. Because my only experience has been…”

His face fell, and he leaned in closer, hand tightening on her elbow.

“But that doesn’t matter,” she said, rushing now too, not wanting to break the fragile wonder of the moment. “No one’s ever courted me, so I won’t know if you mess it up. How’s that?” She smiled up at him, encouraging.

He reached with his free hand toward her face, and she froze, heartbeat leaping into action. The sudden flood of warm energy in her veins was, much to her own delight, nothing but anticipation.Thiswas the something that had bothered her all day. She’d wantedthis. Maybe that made her petty and foolish, what with war looming over them, but she wanted it all the same. She thought the war might have made it even more important than it already was.

Lightly, carefully, he caught a stray wisp of damp hair she’d missed in her braid and tucked it behind her ear, the callused pad of his thumb rough when it brushed the delicate skin there.

In a low voice, he said, “It does matter. I don’t want you to think–”

“I don’t.” It was hard to swallow suddenly, throat thick and dry. She had to wet her lips before she could talk, and the air fluttered in her lungs. This was almost more frightening than staring down a wolf in the forest – no, she knew it was. “You asked if I wanted to come with you to Petrograd.” She bit at her lip, because this was hard, but she knew she had to be the one to make the move. After what had happened to her, he wouldn’t be the one who pushed her. It had to be her decision, her want. “If it’s alright, there’s something I want to find out first.”

He edged in a little closer, breath warm against her face, smelling of tooth powder. He’d hoped, then, he’d wanted this. Wantedher. His breath was nothing like the rot and onion stink of the men who’d violated her. He wanted to please her, because he wasn’t a monster. He was handsome, and awkward, and nervous, and he wanted her – and she wanted him.

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