Page 31 of It’s You

D arcy didn’t actually know when Jack was returning from Quebec on Thursday, but she woke up earlier than usual on Thursday morning, buoyant, hopeful, and relieved that what felt like a very long separation would be over as of that evening.

She dressed quickly, made a cup of coffee for herself before Willow even woke up, and headed up to her studio to work.

She couldn’t concentrate.

Jack.

She couldn’t think of anything but him and suddenly had an idea that being near his house, on the grounds of his property, might prove a balm to the longing she felt.

She could just wander a while in the woods as they had on Saturday.

Being in the woods and being at Jack’s place would combine two of her favorite things in one place, and surely the fresh air would help her concentrate better on her writing when she returned home.

The wolf.

The memory of the gray wolf baring its teeth at her in Jack’s woods made her think twice about her plan.

She took a small key out of her desk and opened a locked door that looked a lot like a coat closet.

Inside, she used a second key to unlock a small trunk and removed her H&R single-shot centerfire rifle.

Living in northern New Hampshire with all manner of wildlife meant that her parents had gifted Darcy the weapon at a young age, and they had gone to great lengths to ensure she knew how to fire, clean, and store the firearm.

But Darcy still didn’t like it. Even though she had lived among guns all her life, she wasn’t comfortable with them.

She didn’t like the statistics on accidental shootings and guns finding their way into children’s innocent hands.

Further, she really didn’t like the thought of killing anything.

Heretofore, she had only used the weapon for target practice.

Although she had been hunting before, when it came to actually pulling the trigger on a helpless animal, she hadn’t been able to do it.

She couldn’t remember the last time she used the gun, but she checked the bore, and it was clean, which didn’t surprise her. She could hear her father’s words in her head. If you’re going to own a firearm, have respect for it.

She looked out the window. It was turning into a bright, sunny day, and Darcy didn’t want the extra weight of the gun on her back or the implication of needing it.

She changed her mind, replacing the gun and locking the trunk and then the cabinet.

She made sure her cell phone was charged and found some pepper spray in her backpack, just in case.

Thus armed, she made her way to Jack’s place.

Darcy pulled into the semicircle driveway and put her car into park, closing her eyes for a moment.

Part of her felt a little awkward now that she was actually here.

She didn’t have permission to be at Jack’s place while he was out of town, although she couldn’t imagine him objecting.

Still, she felt a little silly and wondered if she should just turn around and go home.

But it felt so good to be back. She felt somehow closer to him, and she could hear the river babbling so cheerfully. She decided to take a quick look at the moss samples in the river and then head home. A compromise. What harm could there be in that?

She got out of the car, holding her coffee with one hand, and slammed her door shut with the other. She took a deep breath, recognizing the familiar smells and sounds of the woods, until her attention was drawn to the garage as she heard the unexpected sound of the door rising mechanically.

She jumped and turned, her pulse quickening as both garage doors opened simultaneously to reveal the Jeep and the sports car parked neatly side by side. Her mind had a series of quick questions.

Did he take a car service to the airport?

Or is he back early?

If not, who’s here?

Her eyebrows furrowed, but her flight instinct didn’t kick in. She stood frozen with a sort of surprised, apprehensive, confused curiosity, keeping her eyes trained on the front of the garage. Could it be Amory?

She perceived someone walking out of the shadows from the back corner of the garage, but her mouth dropped as he came into view.

He came to the front of the garage and stood in front of Jack’s Jeep, eyes squinted closed, face turned to the sun, stretching his arms up to the sky.

It was a man. A very hairy man, well over six feet tall and completely naked.

His body was dirty, almost covered in various shades of brown and maroon…

what? Mud? His hair was matted and messy, but Darcy could tell it was black underneath.

His beard was woolly and wild, black with a generous peppering of gray.

Darcy’s eyes were drawn up to his fingertips, which retracted in front of her eyes.

Long, yellow, claw-like nails shrinking back into his skin, as though pushed by sunlight back into darkness.

He gave one long, low bellow of a growl to the blue sky before lowering his arms and head.

She couldn’t help the sound that escaped her throat, halfway between a whimper and a scream, and the creature turned its head to her in surprise, glowing yellow eyes boring into hers.

Darcy.

Jack’s voice. She sucked in a wheezing, desperate breath and felt her coffee splash over her shoes as her cup and keys fell to the ground. He blinked twice, and his eyes turned brown.

Don’t be frightened. I’m still me.

She couldn’t breathe. She leaned up against the door of the car and watched as he approached her. One step. Two. As he came closer, she could see how filthy he was. And no, he wasn’t covered in mud. He was covered in varying degrees of dried blood.

…they each cut their teeth on the full moon, howling and fearful, and the mothers realized that they had each borne a monster…

“Darcy…” he started, and her eyes widened at the sound of Jack’s voice in this thing’s filthy, animal-like face. Her brain was a jumble, trying to process what was going on.

Why did Jack say he was away? Where had he been? Did she really just see claws retract from his hands? Why was he covered in blood?

“Darcy, what are you doing here?”

She couldn’t catch her breath, and her hand fluttered over her heart, standing up against her car. “Wh-why do you look like that? What’s going on? You w-were away on business.”

Skinwalkers who hunted like their father for three…full…days.

The world started spinning, and she put a hand to her scorching hot cheek.

“Darcy. I can…I can explain.”

“W-w-why are you c-covered in blood?”

Razor-sharp fangs, long, yellow claws, the face of a wolf, eyes that burn, and the strength of ten men…

“C-calm down.” He took another step toward her, and she tensed. She thought about running, but she knew he could outrun her. She put up her palms in frightened supplication. The blood was rushing from her extremities, and her fingers felt like icicles. So cold, they might snap if bent.

“Don’t come closer. P-please don’t.”

She was feeling dizzy. She couldn’t think clearly. She stared at him desperately.

Its fangs drip with the blood of its victims.

He flinched and froze, dropping her eyes.

Darcy sucked in a breath, trying not to faint. “W-where have you been? W-what have you…b-been doing…and whose blood is that?” Her voice was thready and high-pitched, and she felt the moisture of tears slipping down her cheeks. Her blood was pumping so fast it was deafening.

“I’ve been here,” he murmured.

“In-in your garage?” She flicked her glance to the corner where he had emerged. To the metal door with the security pad. “That’s not a wine cellar, is it?”

He didn’t look up. He shook his head.

No one could love such a hideous, abominable creature.

What was the name of the creature?

The Roux-ga-roux.

The mythical creature that ate flesh. The Métis werewolf. The monster. Words formed on her tongue and escaped her mouth before her brain could sanction their release.

“The were…wolf…the monster. Oh, Jack.” She sobbed, her fingers shaking before her, wide-eyed and trembling. “You’re…you’re a Roux-ga-roux, aren’t you?”

His eyes were burning and yellow when he raised them to meet hers.

He closed them as his face crumpled in pain before he slowly bowed his head.

Darcy knew the answer, and her heart splintered with the pain of watching all the puzzle pieces finally fit together with heartbreaking, terrifying clarity.

She wanted to run. She wanted to run away and hide before he answered her. She didn’t want to hear the word that would destroy everything sweet and real between them. She didn’t want to be in love with a monster.

But she couldn’t move. She stood frozen, holding her breath, staring at his thick, black, dirty, wolf-like hair.

He raised his eyes, and they were brown again. He looked so much like Jack Beauloup, Darcy wanted to die. She saw the pain there, the desperation, and then…the surrender.

“Yes,” he breathed.

Her head lolled back, and the world went silent and black.

For the first time in Darcy’s life, she fainted.

She was somewhere soft, like a cocoon, and sighed with pleasure. It was warm and cozy and smelled like Jack. Jack, to whom she was bound. Jack, whom she loved.

Wait. Jack isn’t…Jack.

Alarm bells were going off like crazy in her head as she remembered the creature from the garage, and she jerked herself into a sitting position.

She realized that she was in his bed, and he was sitting quietly in a chair beside her, freshly showered and shaved, devastatingly handsome, looking exactly as he looked last Sunday morning when she said goodbye to him.

He watched her carefully from his seat, and she saw that his brown eyes were grief stricken as they caught hers.

“Don’t be frightened.”

Her glance darted to his hands, but he kept them unmoving in his lap. Her breathing was shallow and ragged as she looked toward the bedroom door. He blocked her escape.

“I won’t stand in your way if you want to go.”