Half Wolf. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
aren’t a figment of my imagination?” She asked this seriously.
“No figment, Kaitlin.”
She seemed to consider his reply. “If the attack was real, what about the other parts of what I thought was a dream? Did we run through a park?”
“We did. Last night.”
“Naked?”
“One of us didn’t have many clothes on. Clothes get in the way of a shape-shift.”
That shut her up for a long minute. Then she said, “No dream, really? None of it?”
“I’m sorry.”
Her eyes were even wider now, and trained on him in a way that made Michael’s internal wolf whine. Kaitlin’s gray gaze was direct and accusatory. “What is an Alpha?”
Her change in direction didn’t throw him, but her use of that word did. Michael promised himself that he would be having some serious words with Rena later on.
“An Alpha is the leader of a pack,” he said.
“A pack of wolves.”
He nodded, almost able to see the wheels of Kaitlin’s mind turning. The scent of her desperation tinged the air, though she was fighting for control over her part of the conversation, knowing its importance had to override her fear levels.
“I’ve never liked big, scary animals.” She said this breathlessly. “And now I’m supposedly going to be one?” Her eyes found his. “Like you? Like what I think I saw you turn into?”
Michael’s heart picked up its pace. He had made a vow never to get this close to a human female under any circumstances and had obliterated that vow with her because...well, again, he wasn’t sure why this woman affected him so much.
“Not exactly like me,” he replied. “Though you will be something close enough.”
Her jaw tensed, sending a spiral of pain through the wound on her neck, pain that Michael also felt. He supposed he was sharing her feelings due to having placed his blood in her veins, and that blood was giving him a heads-up on a few things. But that kind of sharing deepened his determination to stay as far away from Kaitlin Davies as possible in the future, once she knew the score.
“What does close enough mean?” she asked.
It seemed they were going to aim for the hard ones after all. This little fireball wasn’t about to let him off the hook.
Could he blame her?
“You now have Lycan blood in your veins,” he said.
He saw that the word Lycan didn’t ring a bell.
“Lycans are a very old lineage of shape-shifters,” Michael said.
Her head came up.
“Lycans can’t replicate themselves exactly, unless two Lycans mate and produce pure-blooded offspring. Because you now have Lycan blood in your veins, you’ll be a special combination of wolf and human, two things that can only mix well if the recipient of the blood gift is strong enough to handle their wolf, and pays close attention to the changes.”
“Blood gift? Hell, that’s what you call it?” Her eyes had gone glassy, though they still maintained focus. “Lycan means wolf?”
“Yes.”
“If this is true, I won’t be a real wolf?”
“Half wolf,” Michael reiterated. “And half human. Werewolf.”
She repeated that term to herself in a whisper, as if trying it on for size, and took time to formulate her next question. “You aren’t a werewolf?”
“Lycans are Weres, yes, and yet some older Were families have traits that actually fall under the categorization of shape-shifter. When those like us change, we take on animal form. Wolf form.”
None of this appeared to deter Kaitlin from pursuing her agenda of gaining all the information she could.
“What about the monster that attacked me?” she asked.
“Vampire.”
She closed her eyes and clasped her knees tighter, as if one of those monsters had gotten into the room. Michael sensed the rise in her blood pressure. There was now a faint tinge of pink in her cheeks.
“That was real.” She hung her head. “God. True. There are such things. No joke.”
“Hard to believe, I know,” Michael said. “For me, it’s equally as hard to believe that there are regular old humans that can’t change into anything.”
He walked to the side of the bed and set the paper bag on the table beside it. Kaitlin glanced up again. Beneath that gaze he felt wrong somehow, and that neither of them deserved the repercussions of what he had set in motion. His blood had bound them together in special ways. Before too long, he would have to break some of those invisible chains he already felt linking to her.
“You chased that vampire away,” she said.
“I took care of the problem so that vampire can’t hurt others or make more mindless monsters.”
“You don’t consider yourself a monster?”
“I suppose that’s a matter of perspective. But no, I don’t.”
“Supernatural vigilante, then?” she asked.
“My pack and others like us try to keep the peace. Some of us work behind the scenes to chase the undead away from the human population because only in that way can we, as a Were species, stay safe.”
There was more to tell her. Things she needed to know—such as the fact that she had spent one entire day and night in a coma, fighting the transition from human to something else.
He could tell her that he’d never seen a human take such a short time to pass through the first phase of moving toward their half wolf status, and that she was an anomaly.
He could warn Kaitlin that possibly she would hit the next wall in the hours to come, and therefore would need him for a while more, though he dreaded that need for closeness.
He could not bring up the fact that humans, like the one she had been, had hunted and killed his mother for sport.
“Then I should be grateful you were out there.” She surprised him again with a complete change of tone. Her voice became softer now, with an almost magical ability to work its way under his tough Were skin. The prickle of anticipation Michael felt when he observed Kaitlin was always unexpected, and wholly unique.
He fended off the desire to shift right there and avoid those gray eyes, the way he had done the night before. But shifting was a private matter, and Kaitlin had already seen him do it twice.
“Thank you for whatever you did to keep me alive, Michael. I mean it.”
She was still curled up in a ball, knees drawn tight. “I didn’t want to die and prayed for intervention. So, really, you can be considered an angel. My angel.”
Michael counted the passing seconds by his own racing heartbeats, knowing that this was the moment to take his leave. He wanted to argue again that he was the furthest thing possible from an angel. He had lethal teeth, ten razor-sharp claws, and he pretty much adhered to the moon’s beck and call. What kind of angel used the moon for their higher power?
He was a tough fighter for the rights of his kind to exist in this world, and yet his reactions to Kaitlin left him feeling fuzzy and ill-defined about the whole human-versus-wolf thing. These feelings were new and unwelcome. They left him feeling vulnerable when that word had never entered his vocabulary. They made him feel guilty about breaking certain vows.
I’m not to be trusted here, Kaitlin, this close to you.
He had to take care of this problem of being attracted to Kaitlin,