CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Richard slumped in the chair beside the fireplace. He'd been sitting in this room every evening since Jane had left. It had been the last place he'd seen her.
He was starving, and didn't care. He deserved to go hungry. And the thought of leaving to hunt—of perhaps missing her if she came back—was unbearable. What if she was hurt? What if she needed something and he was out assuaging his thirst?
Moron. She's gone, you old fool. You did everything but toss her out the window yourself.
True enough. Still, he waited. It was the only thing he could do. He'd never insult her by trying to find her and convince her to return. Return to what? An unnatural existence with a monster? And what in the world could he ever say to her? "Jane, dear, sorry about kidnapping you and keeping you and all but calling you a liar to your face, kiss-kiss, let's go home." As the lady herself might say, "In a fuckin' pig's eye."
"Dick! Stop with the sulking and open the front door!"
Argh, fresh horror—now his inner voice sounded like her. Bad enough he was starving, but it appeared he was going insane as well.
"You son of a bitch! You piece of shit! I trot my ass all the way back down here— twice!—and you keep me standing out here on this freezing sidewalk?"
He buried his face in his hands. Oh, how he missed her.
"I am going to rip your heart out and pin it to the bedroom wall with a swizzle stick! I'm going to yank the fixtures out of that stupid bathroom you're so proud of and shove them up your ass!" Wham-wham-wham! "Now let me in before I lose my temper!”
That's no inner voice, Richard. I ought to know...I'm your inner voice.
He jumped up so quickly his head actually hit the ceiling; he barely felt it. He clawed for the door, raced through it and down the hall, down three flights of stairs, fumbled for the bolts and locks, and flung the door open.
Jane stood on his front step, flushed and scowling. Her little fists were red from hammering at his door. She was wearing a man's overcoat roughly six sizes too big for her, and three large grocery bags were at her feet. "Finally. Don't sulk on my time, all right?" She stomped past him.
Like an automaton, he picked up the groceries, then slowly turned and followed her. She shrugged out of the coat and headed straight for their—for his room. He watched her naked form as she went up the stairs like she owned them. She smelled like dried blood, sweat, and something else that was definitively Jane. He could pick her out in a stadium of thousands.
"Food," she said over her shoulder on her way up. "I could eat a cow. In fact, I think I did, night before last. You’d be surprised how close some farms are to the city."
“I would,” he replied automatically, because he had no idea how else to respond.
By the time he prepped a meal and brought her tray to the bedroom, she had showered and toweled off. She strolled out of the bathroom and sniffed appreciatively. "Oooh, yeah, that's the stuff. I could eat two steaks."
"They're both for you," he said automatically. "Why...how...why...?"
"You sounded a lot brighter when you thought I was a liar." She snickered, then brushed past him and jumped for the bed, landing in the middle, lolling like a queen, and favoring him with a smirk. "Ah, the mileage I'm gonna get out of this. Let's start with your whole smug speech about how just because you're a vampire, there's no such thing as werewolves. That sound like a good place to you?"
"Jane—"
"Or we could touch on why it's not a good idea to kidnap people when they're on their way to an important family meeting."
"Jane—"
"Or we could go into all the times you asked me to tell the truth, and I did, and then you didn't believe me, and then you—"
He fell to his knees beside the bed. He had to grit his teeth for a few seconds to keep his jaw from trembling. "Jane, why are you here? Why aren't you with your Pack?" His voice was rising, but he was helpless to stop it. "Why didn't you head for the road and keep going? Why are you back? Did you return to kill me? It’s well-deserved, I won’t fight you. I just—I just want to know why you came back."
She frowned. "You're taking all the fun out of this. I've been looking forward to it for days. I need to see some major-ass groveling, pal."
“I don’t understand.”
She sighed. "What, I gotta get out the hand puppets?”
“If you think it would help.”
“You haven't figured it out? Dick, you're my family now. I never want to go back there. Cape Cod in the summer— yech! Tourists cluttering up the roads, the beaches, and the mall—and you get in trouble if you hunt them. Can't even take a little bite to discourage them from coming back..."
"Jane."
"I'm serious! Anyway, if I stay with you, I don't have to go back. I didn't realize how unhappy I was with them until I fell in with you, you kidnapping shithead. I'm not Pack anymore, I'm yours. But only if you’re mine.” She paused, and then added in a smaller, less confident voice, “I mean—if you want."
"Is this a jest?" he almost whispered. "Is it a trick to get even? Because while I wouldn't blame you—"
"Oh, hey, I'm a bitch, but I'm not, y’know, a sociopath. That'd be a rotten thing to do. I’m into you, you stupid fuck. I'm not going anywhere. Except, of course, for a few days a month. And my Pack will be by to check on me, make sure this is what I really want, so be ready for that.”
“Jane—“
“And I don’t know if this is love.” She nibbled her lower lip, deep in thought, and then shrugged. “I don’t know what this is. Except it’s not Stockholm Syndrome. Probably. Anyway!” She paused and looked at him with bright eyes. “Think you can put up with that, you undead dope?"
If this was a dream, it was glorious. If this was a dream, waking up would be devastating. "I've been waiting almost a hundred years to hear those words. Well, not those exact words." He reached out and pulled her down onto his lap, and they sat on the floor while she cuddled into him like a bad-tempered puppy. No. Like a wolf. "Oh, Jane.” He buried his face in her shoulder. “I missed you so much. And I was such a fool."
"Yep. A real arrogant asshole."
"Yes."
"Completely unreasonable and jerkish."
"And then some."
“And not even that bright! You obviously weren’t worried about hunters after the first twenty-four hours, but you couldn’t admit it.”
“I was a coward. The lowest of the low.”
“No, that’d be collection agencies.”
“A coward and a fool.”
"And you're really, really sorry."
"So unbelievably sorry."
"And totally unworthy of me."
"In a thousand ways."
"And you're gonna buy lots of food and get a house in the country so I don't have to hunt in the city because frankly? The docks are gross.”
"The refrigerator is full and I already have a house in the Berkshires."
"Then that's all right," she said, sounding quite satisfied. She stretched her legs out and wiggled her toes. "Um...the steaks are getting cold."
"So am I."
She giggled and turned so she was straddling him, then hooked her ankles behind his waist and kissed him on the mouth. Slowly, she cupped the back of his neck and brought his mouth to her throat. "Hungry?" she purred.
Am I having a seizure? This cannot be real. She had come back—she liked him, perhaps would come to love him—she would stay—and now she was freely offering him her rich, decadent blood. Soon the national budget would balance to the penny, world peace would descend, and Jane would enroll in charm school.
He sank his fangs into her throat without hesitation—he couldn't have held back if he tried. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest while her blood warmed him from the inside out. She was wriggling against him—now her fingers were at his zipper—now her warm little hand was inside his trousers, clasping him, stroking him.
"You did miss me." She shoved him back and he was happy enough to lie down for her. He stopped feeding and licked the bite mark. He couldn't recall ever being happier, not once in his long, long life.
“I did, oh, I did,” he managed. “But please don’t think—it was only—the sex.”
“I don’t.” She seized his cock with delightful firmness and raised herself above him. His arms went around her waist as he guided her down, as he slowly slid into her. Her head tipped back and she said "Ohhhhh...that's good, I missed that, look how wet feeding you makes me," to the ceiling. He stroked her breasts, running his fingers over her firm nipples, marveling at the softness of her skin in contrast with her strength and stamina. She'd jumped three stories and there wasn't a mark on her—and he was certainly looking! Not a bruise, not a scratch. She healed almost as quickly as he did. Now that his eyes were finally, truly open, her singularity couldn’t be more apparent.
"You're gorgeous," he murmured.
"You're just saying that to get laid.”
"In case you haven't noticed, I am getting laid."
She snorted, then began to rock back and forth. He noticed an out of character reticence about her and wondered about it—then suddenly realized she had likely been on top when she crippled her first lover.
"For heaven's sakes," he said with mock disdain, "can't you go any faster than that? Any harder? I'm about to fall asleep down here."
She was so surprised she nearly fell off him. Then she made the connection and smirked. "Okey-dokey, dead guy. Here we go."
They ruined the carpet, and he didn’t care. Toward the end, she was screaming at the ceiling and he could feel his spine cracking—and he didn't care. Her legs were around his waist in a crushing grip, restricting blood flow, her arms around his neck, cutting off his air—and he wanted more. He told her so, insisted on it, demanded it, then bit her ear and lapped up the blood. He could actually feel the temperature change within her as she reached orgasm, felt her uterus tightening around his shaft, and then he followed her right over the edge.
They couldn’t speak for several minutes, until Jane finally managed, "Oh, cripes, I think that should be against the law."
"It probably is, in at least three states."
"My supper's cold," she complained, making no move to stand up and get the tray.
"I've got a microwave. But that begs the question, why did I even grill it? I doubt you'd have minded it raw.”
“I would in this form,” she admitted. “I still like it bloody, though. If you want to face death, try feeding me a well-done ribeye with ketchup.”
“Noted. A werewolf," he mused, stroking her thigh. "Even after I saw the truth with my own eyes, I could hardly believe it."
"That's because you're kind of a dumbass sometimes."
"I have to take this from a foul-mouthed tart like you?"
She pounced on him, nibbled at his throat. "I'm your foul-mouthed tart, so...yeah."
"Excellent." He kissed her nose. "So...how do you feel about being an undead werewolf?"
She groaned. "Let's talk about it in ten years, all right? Let me get used to the idea of being Pack-free first."
"Of course, my Jane. Whatever you like. Will they come after you?"
"I have no idea. No one's ever voluntarily left before, not that I’ve heard. We’re usually exiled, which is the worst punishment for most of us. Being alone is dangerous. I’m outnumbered millions to one.”
“The two of us,” he corrected. “The two of us are outnumbered millions to one.”
She smiled down at him. “That’s right. And I doubt the boss would really mind—he's softened up since he got hitched—but I s'pose I should tell them I'm not dead."
"Tomorrow."
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
"We’re our own pack, Jane. We're two monsters who do as they like, when they like. Everyone else had best stay out of our way."
"Ooooh, God, I love it when you talk like that..."
"How about when I do this?" He leaned down and nibbled on her impudent nipple, running his tongue over the velvety bumps of her areola.
"Nnnnngggg."
"Or this?" He sucked hard, and nipped her very, very lightly.
"Gggnnnn..."
"I will love you as no one else has."
"You’ve got several years to prove it, so you’d better get started."
He laughed and bent to her warm, lush flesh. "As my werewolf commands.”
THE END