Half Wolf. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
never end, and as if they’d never get enough of each other. Hunger sparked memory. This was what she recalled—Michael’s breath in her lungs and his mouth on hers, there at death’s door. This was what she needed now in order to get up and go on.
Michael...
As if sensing how desperately she demanded this connection, the pressure of Michael’s mouth lightened. His lips left hers to angle across her left cheek, drifting toward her neck in a downward trajectory of kisses. He paused near the band of her T-shirt, took hold of the cotton with both hands and crumpled the fabric in his fist.
He was so damn hot. The room was humid and stifling. Her body was quaking with a longing that had nothing to do with life-altering transitions...unless it was about becoming intimate with a man she really didn’t know.
This was body betrayal, big-time, with the hope that Michael would stay and finish what they had started. Maybe then she’d be able to rest. Possibly she’d get over this ridiculous crush if their bodies actually merged.
“Wait.”
The command was loud, though it had been whispered through her cracked lips.
God, had she said that?
Michael heeded that command. His head came up. When he looked into her eyes, Kaitlin detected defiance in his gaze, and knew he was scrambling for a hold on his own wayward needs. Still, he was going to do what she asked, no matter what that cost him.
“You’re right, of course.” His voice emerged as a growl.
She had to say something. “I owe you for saving my life.”
“But now isn’t the time to repay me, and I wouldn’t expect that kind of payment from you anyway, especially when you might not be happy with the way things turn out.”
He didn’t smile as he went on. “If I go now, you’ll settle down. Being near another wolf tends to bring out the wolf in you, and in me. I know that, and I thought...” He let that part dangle, and started again. “Your allure is strong, Kaitlin. I’ll admit that.”
Michael straightened up before she could reach for him. He leaned over her once more, with both hands on the bed beside her. Eyes closed, Kaitlin waited for his mouth to betray his words and for Michael to ignore her outburst in spite of what he’d just said.
There was to be no further touch.
She heard the click of a door and opened her eyes to find herself alone. Michael had left her with the tan paper bag.
Her own growl of distress rose in her throat as her stomach again turned over. Giving in to the rush of feeling she’d trapped in her core, Kaitlin tore into the paper bag as though it were made of tissue—ripping it apart, sending pieces of paper flying.
If she couldn’t have Michael, she’d at least have this.
She wolfed down the meal as if she hadn’t eaten in months instead of days, and with the gusto of someone who might never eat again.
Because you just never knew what could happen from one minute to the next.
Only somewhat satiated, Kaitlin glanced sideways, eyes bleary, startled by her reflection in the mirror. She was on her hands and knees on the bed, bare ass showing from beneath her T-shirt. Barbecue sauce was smeared all over her face and hands, making her look, to her complete dismay, very much the beast she might become.
Staring at that image, she started to cry.
Sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: How do you cope with life on a Monday when you’ve almost died over the weekend?
Answer: You either curl up for days on end, or you have a go at what’s left.
In the end, Kaitlin had to remember that the Davies family was nothing if not flexible. But she feared that the day stretching ahead would seem like a blur, with life burning like an eternal question mark at the center. Colorless day, colorless surroundings. Heavy books, laptops and ongoing research. Meaningless chitchat. Typical postgraduate stuff.
Because she was no longer herself.
Or so Rena and Michael kept telling her.
Concentrating was difficult when there were monsters all around, and when a person’s eternal flame could be choked out so quickly. When this life do-over had turned out to be a doozy.
However bad things were, she was determined to try to cope. She would handle this, because there was no alternative.
Remaining optimistic proved to be tough, though. In the hallway, Kaitlin focused on avoiding others and keeping to the sidelines, not sure she could actually carry on a conversation or if the students she passed would know she was different. Was she different? She had only Michael’s and Rena’s word for that.
By the time she was halfway through the main university building, odd things were happening. Inexplicable things. Smells, scents and fragrances were suddenly overwhelming and more of an affront to her senses. Polish on the floors gave off a sweet, sticky odor. Scuff marks from black-soled shoes smelled like burned rubber. Paper stuck to bulletin boards made her eyes water.
Crowds of people huddled in the corners, amplifying the odors of damp clothes, hair gel, fabric dyes and perfume. Passing the cafeteria was a big mistake. Although she was hungry again, almost ravenous, the smell of overcooked pizza sickened her.
She wanted to escape, hide, get away, and didn’t know where to go or how to outdistance the waves of panic that stuck to her like shadows. She had to wait to see Michael again.
New self. Changes. Don’t go out after dark.
She chewed her fingernails in frustration and chose a secluded seat in the back of the library, though she was certain there was no way to work on her thesis. No one gave her a second glance or turned around to stare.
The tick of the wall clock drove her mad. Fighting every agonizingly slow minute, Kaitlin waded through the hours like a sinking swimmer, finding it harder and harder to breathe when beyond the library walls she could feel him. Michael. Somewhere close.
Thoughts of Michael made her muscles dance with anticipation. The leftover pressure of his talented mouth brought far too much heat. She looked up werewolves online on her laptop, shuddering as she read lines of a story labeled as myth. She grew more and more restless as the afternoon dragged on. Forgoing her work, she drew pictures of wolves on her notebook and tried to remember the shape of Michael’s eyes.
When the clock chimed five, she raced through crowds of students having a normal day, wondering how they could be so oblivious to events unfolding around them. Almost at the exit, she skidded to a stop near a bunch of people gathered outside a closed classroom door. Taped to that door was a note.
“Class canceled due to instructor illness.”
Her fear turned major. What if that missing teacher had also been some fanged monster’s prey?
Her legs began to shake uncontrollably.
Going to be sick. Need to get out.
Taking in ragged breaths of stale air, Kaitlin slumped against the wall with her head in her hands. After several long minutes she was able to again stand upright, and then only because there were answers to find and truths to sort out.
“Come hell or high water...” She reached for the neck of the sweater that hid what a stranger named Rena had called her “war wound” and finished the statement. “I’m going to find out what the hell is going on.”
* * *
Michael paced from tree to tree, sure Kaitlin would show up, though he wouldn’t have blamed her if she didn’t.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Hadn’t realized he was kissing her until she stopped him. Now she’d have the wrong impression of this meeting