Page 15 of Relics of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #2)

15

In the aftermath of the battle, with all my enemies down or escaped, the apartment complex grew quiet, the distant roar of the freeway noticeable as it wafted through the trees. The smell of burning rubber from the men’s tires lingered in the air. All but one of the cars was gone, the one that had crashed into the cedar, faint protesting beeps coming from the console. For whatever reason, those cut through the animalistic haze in my mind, and awareness slowly returned.

I remained in my wolf form, muscles warm from the fight, my shoulder burning from the bullet that had grazed me. At least it hadn’t lodged in. I had little doubt that it, like the bullets that had been used on my pack, had been made from silver. Enchanted silver with the power to kill a werewolf. A shudder went through me, and I shook my head and body, as if to fling water from my fur coat. I wanted to fling off the taint of those men.

Movement behind me made me spin in that direction, tensing in case a new threat had arrived.

But it was my ally, the salt-and-pepper wolf. Duncan. He, too, remained in wolf form, watching me with his brown eyes.

He’d battled against the same enemies as I but hadn’t come too close. Maybe he’d understood that the animal had overtaken me and that, in the midst of the fight, I might not have known friend from foe. I was relieved he’d recognized the danger and had stayed away. In this form, I could easily sense his power and knew he wouldn’t have been easy to kill, but a memory percolated through my mind. Long ago, the love of my life, the werewolf Raoul, had also been stronger than I, but he’d been in love and hadn’t wanted to hurt me. Because of his hesitation to strike aggressively, I’d ended up killing him.

The sour taste of torn clothes and human blood tainted my tongue. I lapped up the remains of melting snow to wash it away. Voices sounded near the human structures. People who lived in the dwellings. They were whispering. Watching.

As more of the wolf magic faded, I realized I would soon change back. Duncan caught my gaze, then pointed his snout toward the woods. He trotted a few steps in that direction and paused to look back at me, his eyes telling me to follow.

Yes, I couldn’t remember why the watching humans mattered—what did a wolf care about such things?—but something told me they did. Besides, it was never wise to change in front of potential enemies. During a transition, one was vulnerable.

I padded into the woods after Duncan, my ears flickering at the roar of traffic. The urge to travel far from this hive of humanity crept into me, the longing to find a serene place to hunt, but the wolf magic ebbed further. With trees all around, my muscles, bones, and skin shifted, returning to their human form. Soon, I sat on my butt in damp pine needles, and the awareness of my life as a woman returned to me. As well as awareness of the pain in my shoulder. I grimaced and wrapped a hand around it.

“Luna,” Duncan said before stepping close to crouch beside me. He’d also shifted back and was as naked as I, the night’s darkness the only cloak for our nudity.

“I’m here,” I said, meaning mentally rather than physically. Of course he could see that my body was there. But he’d been fighting with me and had witnessed me losing it, seen my conscious thoughts vaporize as the beast took over. I eyed him warily for judgment.

“They hit you,” was what he said. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better.” I released my wound, my palm damp with blood, but barely glanced at it. I was talking more about how I felt in the aftermath of killing those guys—of completely losing it with them. Oh, I wouldn’t mourn their deaths, not when they’d mugged Bolin and shot my mom and Emilio, but I’d wanted to question them. All this had been for naught. We were no closer to finding out who’d sent them and where the artifacts were.

“Let me help you back to your apartment. We’ll dig out your first-aid kit.”

“Are those dead bodies?” someone screeched from the parking lot. The mom with the kids had made it into their apartment, but other people were arriving home.

“I need to call the police and report… something.” Numbness crept into me. Numbness and exhaustion. I didn’t want to deal with the police or anyone else tonight and wished I could crawl into the bushes and be left alone.

“We’ll do that while we’re patching up your wound.” Duncan squeezed my uninjured shoulder. “We might want to take a circuitous route to your apartment though. Your tenants would wonder about our nudity, especially the ones who watched us head this direction as wolves.”

“ Most people don’t believe in werewolves.” Even Bolin didn’t, or hadn’t. I thought he might be putting two and two together now that we’d spent time together. “They’re not going to connect our nudity to the wolves who killed those guys.”

Unless they’d seen us change, but we’d done that in the bushes, so I hoped there hadn’t been witnesses. The security cameras might have caught it, but I could delete the footage.

“They’ll probably think we were having sex in the woods,” I added. Though the damp pine needles under my butt didn’t lend themselves to ardent passion. It wasn’t the time of year for trysts in the forest.

“And that you came away from the experience bloody?” Duncan pointed at my bloody shoulder. “I would prefer people not think sex with me leads to that outcome.”

“Afraid it’ll lower the odds of other women in the complex propositioning you?”

“It very well might. If you’re not going to give in to my advances, I’ll have to find another female to satisfy my urges.”

“I told you Grammy Tootie is available.”

Duncan rose, offering me a hand. “I’m glad you can still make jokes.”

“It’s a defense mechanism. I can always be snarky.” It didn’t mean I wasn’t distressed by the night’s events.

I accepted his hand and almost hugged him when he helped me up. I longed to collapse in strong arms and let someone else deal with the aftermath.

But I didn’t. Once on my feet, I released his hand and straightened my back. I was the property manager. When bodies and crashed cars littered the parking lot, handling them was my duty.

With Duncan walking beside me, I headed through the woods until we could step out onto the lawn in the back of the complex, out of view from the parking lot and where there were fewer lights. I hurried toward my apartment. My phone was still in the leasing office, but I could grab it later. Once I was clothed.

We slipped into my apartment, and Duncan pointed me toward the couch. “You were kind enough to tend my wounds there when I was bleeding, so I’ll do the same for you.”

“Thanks, but mind if I put my robe on first? It’s a little nippy.”

He glanced at my chest before lifting his gaze higher. “Yes, that’s a good idea. I might otherwise be distracted.”

“There’s blood and dirt all over me.” I scraped my fingers through my hair and dislodged dead leaves and fir needles. “And less than desirable other things.”

“You, of all people, shouldn’t be surprised by what doesn’t faze a werewolf.” Since Duncan had seen me retrieve my first-aid kit before, he knew where it was and fetched it, as well as dampening a towel with water to wash my wound.

Before heading to the couch, I made myself grab the phone in the kitchen. Attached to the wall by the fridge, it was almost as old as the rotary phone in the office. I dialed 9-1-1 and felt the weight of my lies as I fabricated a story for the dispatcher. I said feral coyotes or dogs instead of wolves had attacked strangers who’d been on the property for some unknown reason.

Meanwhile, Duncan spread paper towels on the couch, winking at me when he caught my eye. I snorted softly. He’d done that for himself when I’d told him not to bleed on my furniture. I had a feeling he was doing it now to amuse me, or at least lighten my somber mood.

The dispatcher said the police were already on the way because they’d received numerous calls about coyotes or wolves. I didn’t try to disabuse her of the notion that wolves had been involved. It didn’t matter that much. As long as nobody figured out there had been were wolves—and that I was one of them.

A knock on the door made me jump. Was that the police already? I hurried into my bedroom to grab my robe.

Less concerned about propriety, Duncan answered the door naked.

“Oh, uhm, hi.” That was Bolin, not the police. “Is Luna here? There’s been… an incident.”

“Has there?” Duncan asked innocently, then called over his shoulder. “Luna, are you here, or are you so exhausted in the aftermath of our lovemaking that you can’t talk to anyone?”

“Funny.” I winced at the pain in my shoulder as I shrugged into the robe, then stepped out of my bedroom. “Bolin, I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Showing an apartment. It’s on the calendar.”

“Yeah, thanks for handling that. Things have been chaotic lately.”

He looked toward the parking lot, though it wasn’t visible from my door. “Tell me about it. The police just got here. I think it’s the same officers as last time.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to talk to them?”

“I don’t know what happened. Are you okay?” Bolin squinted at my robe. “Is that blood ?”

“I’m not positive what exactly happened either.” That wasn’t a complete lie. Everything that had occurred while I’d been afflicted by the battle lust of the werewolf was a haze. “But if you already have a rapport with those officers…”

“Last time, they called me a spoiled punk.”

“Maybe rapport isn’t the right word.”

“It’s not, but I can talk to them.”

“You can tell them I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Ten minutes,” Duncan corrected and pointed to the first-aid kit.

Bolin looked like he might say something snarky, perhaps about all the nudity in my apartment, but he glanced at the blood on my robe again and didn’t. “Okay.”

He left, shutting the door behind him.

I was relieved Bolin was here and could talk to the police, at least to start with. They would inevitably question me. Having to lie made everything awful, but it wasn’t as if they would believe the truth if I shared it. Despite the long-term presence of the Snohomish Savagers, most of the local authorities simply believed what the naturalists told them, that wolves lived in the area. Most of the time, we didn’t change in the city. This had been… an accident.

“If they’d met me where I’d asked, this wouldn’t have turned into such a debacle.” I slumped down on the couch and, at a finger twirl from Duncan, eased my left arm out of the robe. “I mean… it probably still would have since I was involved, and I totally lost it, but it wouldn’t have happened in front of my home—and the home of three hundred residents.”

“ Losing it was understandable.” Duncan perched on the edge of the couch next to me, still stark naked.

If I hadn’t burned Chad’s clothes—literally—I could have offered him something, but they wouldn’t have fit well anyway. Duncan was taller and more muscular than my ex, and my boys had still been on the lanky, if not gangly, side when they’d lived at home. I couldn’t imagine the handful of things they’d left behind fitting him either.

Duncan watched my face as he dabbed the towel over my wound. It stung, but I’d hit the ground and rolled after being shot, so dirt mingled with the blood. Even with the regenerative power of the werewolf, cleaning wounds was a good idea.

When I didn’t respond, Duncan said, “They were shooting at us, and they’re the same brutes that hurt your family.”

“I know.”

It was a half-hearted agreement. It didn’t bother me that I’d changed—Duncan had changed too. It bothered me that I’d lost my sanity—my rational mind—and turned into a killing machine. Again . My history with that was the reason I’d fled from my family all those years ago and started taking the potion. I’d longed to be a normal human woman, for nothing like that ever to happen again. For twenty-six years, it hadn’t. But now… things had changed. I’d changed.

“It wasn’t even my family they maimed, and I shifted,” Duncan offered.

“You said you don’t have a family.”

“I don’t, but if I did, their maiming would upset me. It would make me furious.”

I stared at the coffee table. “It was more than fury.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I saw.”

That made me grimace. I appreciated that he’d been there to fight with me, but having a witness to my insanity… I could have done without that.

“I hate how dangerous it is to others when it happens,” I whispered.

“I understand now why you took that potion.”

I grimaced again. Just how insane did I look when I lost it like that?

“When I was growing up, I rarely saw anyone else in my pack go that crazy,” I said. “Completely lose their minds—and control.”

“I’ve gotten that way a couple of times in my life.”

I looked at him, surprised by the admission. From what I’d seen, it was hard to rile him up in human or wolf form. Maybe he was only saying that to make me feel better.

Duncan shrugged, reading the doubt on my face. “It’s what the werewolf blood does to you, what comes with it. Great power, great stamina, great regenerative ability—” he nodded to my wound, “—but the stronger your magic, the more it can consume you.”

“And turn you into a freak.”

“Usually, that’s what people call me .” Duncan smiled and switched from the towel to gauze from the first-aid kit, pressing it against my wound to stop the bleeding that his cleaning had stirred up again.

“Well, you are… odd.”

He was more than that. I thought of all the warnings people had voiced about him. And, when I’d been in my wolf form, I’d noticed his atypical power for myself. Strange that I remembered that when much of the battle was a blur.

“Yes, I am.” Duncan glanced down, then away. “You might want to, er, cover your… womanly curves.”

Not looking, he waved vaguely toward my chest. The robe had slipped low.

“It’s hard to leave my shoulder bare without other things being bare,” I pointed out.

“Perhaps a blanket.” He looked resolutely at the first-aid kit as he pulled out antibiotic ointment and bandages. “Or…” His gaze shifted to the roll of paper towels on the coffee table.

“I’m not using Brawny to cover up my boobs,” I said tartly. “You’re a lot more naked than I am.”

“Yes, that’s problematic as well. I’m trying not to let myself be inappropriately, er, to have a…” He glanced down.

“Tallywacker problem?” I suggested.

“Quite.”

“Yeah, it would be weird to get aroused by giving a woman first aid.”

“The first aid is not the reason for my tallywacker’s interest.”

“That’s good to know. Wounds aren’t supposed to be stimulating.” I took mercy on him and shifted the robe to cover my breast.

“No,” he murmured, his gaze following my hand. He swallowed then made himself focus on applying the ointment. “I don’t think you’re in the mood to have me stimulated right next to you, so I’m trying to control myself.”

“You’re a polite medic.”

“I do try. Brace yourself.”

The ointment stung, but his touch also felt good. It was a professional application, not a gentle caress, but it turned out he wasn’t the only one feeling stimulated this evening. A part of me was tempted to lower the robe again and lean over to kiss him. But I had things to do, and remembering the garish scene outside quelled thoughts meandering toward the idea of sex.

“When has anyone called you a freak?” I asked. “Aside from your atypical career choice, you’re more on the handsome and charming side.”

That was an understatement. When I’d first seen him, I’d had no trouble imagining him modeling for a men’s magazine. The little scar above his eyebrow and the gray dusting his hair did nothing to detract from his handsomeness, and there was nothing wrong with the rest of his body either. I caught myself glancing down, though I’d already seen him naked a few times and didn’t need to reaffirm his fitness. Ah, and he was aroused, wasn’t he? This time, I was the one who looked away, embarrassed by my desire to let my gaze linger.

“It’s the wolf blood and the magic in it that makes me different from the norm.” Duncan had to have noticed my gaze, but he didn’t comment on it. His expression looked a touch smug and pleased, but he only continued his ministrations, bandaging my wound after finishing with the ointment.

“ All werewolves are different from the norm,” I pointed out, though a part of me wanted to ask for clarification.

Would he give it? I’d asked a couple of times now what his deal was.

“Most werewolves are born into a pack and learn the ways of our kind.”

“And you didn’t? Did you lose your mom when you were young?”

A long moment of silence passed as Duncan bandaged my shoulder, and I didn’t think he would answer. He hadn’t before, and nothing had changed. Or had it? He looked contemplatively at me, as if he was considering…

“What?” I asked softly.

He took a long breath—a bracing breath?—then exhaled it slowly. “Fifty years ago, before such things were common, before science had advanced as far as magic… I was created in a laboratory.”

I stared at him with my mouth dangling open. I didn’t know what dark past I’d expected him to have, but that wasn’t it.

“Why?” I managed to ask.

“The scientist who was responsible sought power and prestige. He wanted to bring back the werewolves of old, those that could turn not only into wolves, but into the bipedfuris, the great two-legged creatures of the legends, beasts who could bite humans and spread lycanthropy. As you’re probably aware, we don’t know many with that power anymore. It died out, or so the stories say, as magic faded from the world, destroyed as more and more of the wilderness was cut down, technology replacing what was.”

“I’ve heard the stories, yes.” I tilted my head as I considered him. “So… you were an experiment? Like with DNA splicing or the magical equivalent?” Fifty years ago, we hadn’t been sequencing DNA and doing the kinds of cloning experiments that were possible now. If his story was true, it had to have been achieved with magic.

“Sort of, but splicing wasn’t involved. Lord Abrams—that was the scientist’s name—acquired some centuries-old DNA—I think that’s exactly what it was—from a werewolf who died long ago, high on a mountain in the Alps. He was buried for centuries under a glacier, his remains largely preserved by the ice. Abrams decided he would clone that werewolf so that he had a living, breathing specimen from that time.” Duncan touched his chest. “In part to study, in part to use. Abrams raised that werewolf, having tutors brought in to teach him to fight and to educate him so that he could be useful. Abrams’ goal was to send him out to spread lycanthropy with his bite, to create an army of werewolves that they could control together.”

“Can you do that?” I whispered.

“I can.” Duncan watched me warily.

Expecting a negative reaction? Horror? Fear?

I considered my feelings, but the story didn’t change much for me. Since I was already a werewolf, it wasn’t as if his bite could do anything to me. Except sting. But biting wasn’t what I worried about with Duncan.

“For a time, I served him. He was, as strange as it seems, like a father to me. But when I grew closer to adulthood, I longed for freedom and to be my own man. As I read more and more books, I realized he was evil and that I, if I continued to serve him, would be the same. He probably should have forbidden reading, for great knowledge lies in the pages of tomes, but he never did. That was his mistake.”

“You escaped?”

“Eventually. It took a few tries.” Duncan glanced at his wrists.

The scars I’d noticed before also drew my eye. I’d wondered what had made them, and handcuffs had crossed my mind. But, from their width, they must have been more like shackles. Imagining Duncan strung up in a mad scientist’s dungeon made me wince with sympathy.

“It wasn’t easy to get away, as Abrams knew intimately what I was and my capabilities. He had prepared his abode and laboratory well. But eventually, I got my opportunity. And I left to be my own man—my own wolf —and see a world I’d only read about in books. I was also intensely curious and wanted to meet more of my kind. But that never went well. The werewolves of this time don’t know what’s different about me, but they all sense that I am not like them. They either hate or fear me—often both.”

That wariness remained in his eyes. Was this why he hadn’t told me? He thought I would judge him?

Hell, it wasn’t as if I could judge anyone. Not an hour ago, I’d completely lost my faculties, and it hadn’t been the first time.

“I’ve been driven out of many countries by werewolves and others with paranormal senses, those who realize what I am.” Duncan smiled without humor. “You see, I’ve been called a freak, and worse things, many times, so, as I said, I understand completely why you’d want to take that potion. It crossed my mind to wonder if it would work on me, but I can’t imagine giving up the wolf. I love that part of myself, running through the moonlit woods and hunting, the smell of nature, the excitement of the chase, of the takedown.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if he were imagining escaping to the wilderness at that very moment.

I rested a hand on his arm. “What happened to the scientist? Did you slip away, or did he come after you?”

I almost asked if the guy was still after Duncan, but he had to be dead by now. All this had happened decades ago.

“The night I escaped, it was after an argument, and I was angry. I lashed out, and… in the process, I burned down his laboratory—half his castle was destroyed. He was inside at the time and died, his body charred to a crisp.” Duncan grimaced.

“He had a castle ?” I asked, focusing on the less grisly aspect of the story.

Duncan probably didn’t want to dwell on how his escape had resulted in the death of his creator. But his creator had been his captor . I couldn’t feel sorry for the passing of someone like that.

“Well, this was back in Europe. Castles are easier to come by over there.” Duncan managed a more genuine smile, though that concern lingered in his eyes, like he worried I would realize at any moment that he was a freak. “As to the rest, I didn’t mean to kill him at the time, but I don’t regret ending his ambitions. The things he wanted me to do… Some of the things I did do…” Duncan shook his head and stared at the coffee table, though I doubted he saw anything on it.

“Have you told your story to many people?” I asked, though I thought I already knew the answer. After all, before now, he’d been evasive with me.

“No.” He returned his gaze to mine. “After tonight, I thought you might understand. One werewolf freak to another.” He smiled wryly to make it clear he was using the word because others had applied it to him. To us. He didn’t see me that way.

My belly fluttered with an emotion I couldn’t quite name. Nervousness? Anticipation? Attraction? Maybe all of those things.

He lifted a hand to trace my jaw, and a tingle of desire swept through me, making me want to scoot closer to him on the couch. Making me want him .

“Your blood, your lineage, the power that is so great that it threatens your control,” he murmured. “You must also be closer to those ancient werewolves than most are.”

“I could ask my mother, but I don’t think glaciers and DNA were involved in my birth.” I scooted closer, the robe drooping and my lips parting. We’d kissed before, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. And more.

He leaned forward, his hungry eyes promising he wanted the same.

As our lips met, his fingers trailed from my jaw and down the side of my neck, their teasing touch rousing my entire body. They slipped under my robe, caressing my bare breast, as if he’d longed to do exactly that since he walked in.

I gripped his shoulders and leaned so close I was almost in his lap. His masculine scent mingled with that of the wilds, and his power enveloped me, arousing me.

A firm knock sounded at the door, and reality rushed back in—and the reminder that I needed to deal with it.

With great reluctance, I drew back, our lips parting. “I need to answer that, to go out there and make sure we don’t both end up arrested.”

“I know,” Duncan said, his gaze holding mine. His dark eyes were intense, and I knew without a doubt that he wanted to ignore the door, sweep me into his arms, and carry me to the bedroom.

I licked my lips, wishing we could do that. Instead, I said, “You probably need to let go of my boob.”

“I don’t want to.” A hint of humor replaced some of his intensity.

“I don’t want you to either.”

“Good.” He gave me a final stroke before kissing me and scooting back. He swallowed and rose from the couch. “I think you’ll live, patient.”

“Thanks,” I said quietly, my gaze on him as I pulled my robe over my shoulders and cinched it closed.

“Luna?” came Bolin’s call through the door. “The police want to talk to you.”