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  A Love with Werewolves

  By K. Matthew

  Text copyright 2013 by K. Matthew

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.

  When they came for me, I was eating a meager meal of two strips of jerky, a tomato from the garden, and some chewy dried berry that tasted like sweet rot. The ATVs could be heard from several yards away, maybe even a mile into the forest. I had never been a good judge of distance.

  They were coming to take me back to the base of the Blackfoot Werewolf Reservation, and for a moment, I thought about cooperating. It had been a while since I'd had a decent meal. What I wouldn't give for a proper bed too?

  My moment of desperation was fleeting though. If I returned with them, Emmett would have his way with me, and he would likely not be very nice about it. That thought alone spurred me to take my scraps of food and stow myself away in the cabinet.

  After a few knocks on the door, I could hear it creek open, the compound staff entering as if they had every right to be there. I held my breath, trying to stay as silent as a shadow while they approached.

  “You don't think she's out in the forest, do you?” a man's voice asked, seeming aggravated.

  “Did you see her when she was touring the compound?” the second person, also a male, asking incredulously. “She wouldn't last a day on her own in the forest.”

  “Well, she's got to be somewhere.”

  “Look under the bed.”

  There was a rustling noise and then a sigh of defeat. “No, not under there. Where could she be?”

  “You don't suppose she died, do you?” the voice was uncertain.

  “Who knows?” the other one said with exasperation. “It would serve the stupid bitch right for running off like that.”

  “Yeah. These werewolves can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

  “Sometimes I think it would be better if they just put them all down. Would make our job easier.”

  “No it wouldn't, you idiot. Then we wouldn't have a job.”

  The other man thought for a moment. “Oh, well, I guess your right. Still, this is a big pain in the ass. The boss is gonna be pissed if we don't find her.”

  “She'll turn up. One way or another. I'm not going to worry about it.”

  “You don't think John will be mad?”

  “Not really. She's a werewolf now. It doesn't really matter if she goes missing. If this would have happened before she'd been a werewolf, well, then we'd be in deep shit if we didn't find her.”

  “I hope your right,” he sighed. “Well, let's get out of here. I think we should split up. I'll follow the river, and you go back down the trail.”

  “Sounds good to me,” the other one replied, and then I listened as their foot steps moved away and the door closed behind them.

  It wasn't until the sound of their engines had all but disappeared that I felt safe enough to come out of hiding. Had I made the right choice by not showing myself? My stomach wasn't sure. One thing was certain though. I wouldn't last much longer without getting some real food in my belly.

  The following day was the hierarchy trials. I couldn't help but wonder if the werewolves had bothered having them without me being present. That was the point of it, after all, to help me find my place within the pack. Others would be disappointed if they put it off, particularly the omegas, looking for their chance to climb out of the shit hole they had fallen into by placing last at the previous trials. It could have easily been me this time, and with as malnourished and weak as I felt, I was sure it would have been had those men captured me and taken me back to the base of the reservation. I had made the right choice by hiding.

  While I was cleaning Rex's cabin, I came across a length of string with a hook attached to it. Desperate for sustenance, I decided to try my hand at fishing. If the werewolves had decided to go through with the hierarchy trials, then the compound staff probably wouldn't have time to come after me. It was my best chance to try to find food.

  I approached the river with caution, remembering something my grandfather had told me long ago about scaring the fish by making noise. To be honest, I wasn't sure if it was true or not, but I didn't want to take any chances.

  As I walked toward the riverbank, I chewed on a wad of jerky until it was soft and pliable. That would be my bait, since I couldn't think of anything else to use. Surely, if it was good enough for me, it was good enough for the fish.

  With my wad of chewed jerky on the hook, I got down on my stomach and inched up to the edge of the water. The string would only cast a few feet, so I had to find somewhere deep enough to make it worth the effort.

  There were four perch gathered where the line hit the water. They scattered away from the hook, but then settled, looking at it with their small round eyes.

  I had never considered fishing to be an adrenaline sport before, but as I lay there, watching the scaly things dance curiously around my hook, my heart pounded with a fierceness that made me think it might burst from my chest if I actually landed one . . . or if I didn't. My morale was riding on this catch. If I went back to the cabin empty handed, I would melt down. There was no question in my mind.

  Come on. Come on, you bastards.

  The fish eyed the bait, which to my horror was quickly untangling itself from the hook. Perhaps I had chewed the fibrous tissue too much, not leaving it intact enough to cling to the hook properly. How I hoped it would hold. It needed to hold.

  Finally, a fish approached, pecking at one of the sinuous strings that was waving from the hook like a miniature tentacle. It pecked once, tasting the bait. Twice, pulling some from the hook. On the third time, it jerked the bait completely free, leaving my hook dangling lifeless and ignored. Everything in me wanted to scream and curse and pound my fists into the dirt, but I knew I couldn't do that. I had to try again.

  This time, I didn't chew the jerky quite so much. My hopes were high as I cast out again, praying the fish hadn't lost interest. Thanks to my horrible aim, I missed them by several feet, and they didn't seem very investigative.

  After a few minutes, I reeled in and cast out again. The fish scattered, and they didn't school back together, opting for going their separate ways instead. I waited with all the patience I could muster, hopeful.

  The adrenaline died down with the distance of the fish from my bait. My stomach gurgled loudly, signaling another round of hunger pangs. I pressed my face against the grass, closing my eyes and swallowing my pain. When I looked back up, the fish were even farther away than before, and something inside me snapped.

  My hand went limp, hanging over the riverbank, though I wasn't stupid enough to let the string go. Tears burned my cheeks on their descent to the ground, and after a few seconds of silent weeping, I broke out into full sobs. How could life have gotten so bad so fast?

  “What are you crying about?” a voice said, and my heart nearly froze in my chest as I rolled on my back to see where it was coming from.

  Rex stood several feet away, leaning against a tree with an amused look on his face. The sun made his bronze hair glitter, his green eyes look almost luminescent. He was cleaner than I had ever seen him before, wearing a new blue jumpsuit. They must have given it to him back at the compound.

  “Rex.” I sat up, wiping my eyes while I reeled in the fishing line. “It hasn't been a week yet. How'd you come back so soon?”

  “Well don't pretend like you missed me or anything like that,” he said sarcastically, pushing himself off of the tree to come help me up. His hands were rough against mine, callused from hard work.

  “You said that they'd kee
p you in solitary for a week. It's only been a few days,” I stuttered, still fighting back tears. These tears were from joy though, not despair.

  “We made a compromise. One you'll have to help me with. Come on, let's go back to the cabin. See how much food you left me,” his tone was harsh as usual, and I cowered under it, wondering how pissed he would be with how much I had eaten. While I had tried to ration for seven days, my hunger had gotten the better of me a couple of times. Not to mention I had dipped into the garden quite a bit.

  “I see you've done some rearranging,” he said once we reached the cabin and stepped inside. “Annoying.”

  “I got bored,” I confessed.

  Rex removed his shirt to rip the sleeves off, and a blush came to my cheeks as my eyes flitted down to the tight muscles of his stomach, causing impure thoughts to cross my mind, secret hidden desires that never should have been.

  “Go out back and cut a stalk of aloe vera. You know what that looks like, right?” Rex glanced up at me for a moment, and my cheeks brightened with the realization that he had caught me staring. Thankfully, he seemed to be oblivious to it, only caring about the task at hand.

  I nodded, making my way to the door, images of Rex shirtless burned into my mind. What was I thinking? The man had raped me, taken me against my will. There was no logical reason for my attraction to him. Besides, he was too rough, too crude, and nothing like I had ever wanted before. I needed a prince charming, someone romantic and kind and loving and affectionate. Someone like. . .

  A small sigh escaped my lips as I broke off a stalk of aloe vera. Chris had never been those things either. He was kind and playful and caring, but he had his bad moments too. A lot of them. Definitely not a prince charming, but far better than Rex in regard to manners.

  I wondered how Chris was doing back at the base of the reservation. Had he actually had sex with Sasha the night Emmett tried to rape me? Did he miss me at all? The possible negative answers to those two questions were too depressing to think about. What did it really matter anyway? Chris had given me up when he had decided not to come with me to Emmett's place.

  When I went back inside, Rex was sitting on a chair with his forearm propped up on his knee. In his other hand was a box cutter.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked, utterly confused about his intentions.

  “You know that compromise I told you about?” He looked up at me, holding the box cutter precariously over his forearm.

  “Yeah?”

  “They said they'd let me off of solitary if I agreed to be microchipped. Apparently, they can't do it without our consent because of some law. I agreed to do it, so I could get back to you sooner, but I ain't meaning to keep the thing inside of me. They can follow me where I want them to go. Nowhere else.”

  “So you mean to cut it out?” disbelief was strong in my voice.

  Rex gave me a look as if to insult my intelligence. Of course, he meant to cut it out. This was a man who didn't fear most of the things that common men did: pain, confrontation, being alone.

  “What do you need me to do?” I knelt beside him with the aloe vera.

  “When I cut this thing out, it's gonna bleed. I need you to take some water and wash the wound. Then rub some aloe vera on it and wrap it up. I could do it myself, but since you're here, I might as well use you.”

  With my eyes fixed on the blade, I nodded. Even though it was his flesh about to be torn open instead of mine, my heart still beat fiercely with nervous anticipation. I certainly hoped Rex knew what he was doing.

  His eyes flashed up to mine, asking if I was ready. After a moment of silent understanding, Rex turned his attention down to his forearm, placing the blade over where the microchip had been implanted. It took everything in me not to wince away when the blood began to flow, trickling over the side of his arm and spilling onto the wooden floor below. Rex hissed in pain as he dug out the small thing, about the size of a grain of rice. It reminded me of something out of a science fiction movie, and I caught myself staring at it as he carelessly dropped it to the floor.

  “A little help here,” he said in aggravation.

  “Sorry,” was all that I could think to respond, quickly taking the bottle of water from the table to clean the wound. To my surprise, it wasn't bleeding as badly as I thought it would. The cut was clean, skillful even, and it wasn't long before I had it coated in aloe vera and tied with a piece of Rex's jumpsuit sleeve. “There. All better,” I beamed, proud of my nursing skills.

  He leaned over to pick the microchip off the floor, eying it with distaste. “Fucking sci-fi bullshit.” My eyes followed it all the way down to where Rex stuffed it into his shoe. “It will look suspicious if it's not constantly moving around, I imagine. I'll keep it on me for today, but whenever I go out hunting or fishing, you'll have to carry it. Lord knows we can't afford to have them fuckers scaring off the game.” As if he had already forgotten about his injury, Rex began rummaging through his cabinets and boxes, assessing how much food was left. Once he was finished, he gave me a quizzical look, and I could tell that he wasn't very happy. “You sure eat a lot.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” My happiness from having Rex returned to me was quickly melting into stress.

  He didn't respond. Instead, he stood, picking up his bow and quiver of arrows and heading toward the door without another word.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, though I knew it was a stupid question. Had I truly become so lonely?

  “Where does it look like I'm going?” Rex didn't turn to me when he spoke, and with that, he was gone, leaving me alone to a solitude I was beginning to hate.

  I felt oddly more lost now that Rex was back than I had when he was gone. When I had been alone, I moved about his cabin and the surrounding woods without much thought, but now I worried he would become angry if I touched anything or wandered off on my own. Frustration and mixed emotions filled me like an empty cup until they spilled over, leaking from my eyes. Life continued to be miserable.

  After a good silent cry, I decided to wash Rex's blood from the floor. It was the only thing I knew to do that he would approve of, so I took the task on with meticulous detail, trying to make it last as long as possible. When I couldn't extend the chore any further, I settled on taking a nap. It was the only thing left to do.

  How long I slept, I couldn't tell. With no clocks or watches around, time passed by without any sense of order. By the time I awoke, it was growing dark outside. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. While I felt better than I had when I went to sleep, I was still depressed. It seemed to be the dominant emotion since I had returned to the Blackfoot Werewolf Reservation. Would I ever be happy again? I wondered.

  One thing was certain; I was going to have to stop being so intimidated by Rex. This was my home now just as much as it was his. With new resolve, I bravely stepped outside, craving the scent of forest air. The aroma that hit my nostrils was something different though, fire and roasting meat. My eyes instinctively darted toward the source of the smell, my stomach twisting with a hunger so fierce that it almost dropped me to my knees.

  Rex was several yards away, spit roasting some kind of small animal. What it was I couldn't tell and was afraid to ask, scared that I might lose my appetite. Whatever it was, I was certain it was something that used to be cute and cuddly and inedible to me. Now, it just looked like food.

  His eyes met mine, but he didn't speak as I approached to take a seat a few feet away from the fire, craving companionship, even though I would have rather had it from almost anyone else but him. I listened to the crackle of the flames, watching the meat with an intensity that was almost pathetic. In that moment, I was so hungry that I probably could have eaten it raw.

  “I take it, you didn't fare too well without me,” Rex said as he pulled the meat off the fire.

  My mind was too fixed on the meal ahead to answer. Besides, I didn't want to give him the pleasure of verbalizing what he already knew.

  When the meat was cool enough,
Rex broke the body in half and handed the larger portion to me. I didn't argue. Greedily, I ate, throwing all manners out the window. The meat was sparse and a bit stringy, and not very flavorful at all, but I didn't care as long as it wasn't jerky.

  Rex was still gnawing on the leg of his half when I finished mine. Like a dog, I licked my lips, doing my best not to stare at him as he ate his portion. While the hunger pangs had subsided, I still wasn't full, and my stomach gurgled loudly to echo that.

  “Here,” I heard Rex say, and he outstretched his hand to me with the remaining portion of his meal.

  “No,” I stuttered. “You're hungry too.”

  “I'm fine. You look like you're half starving to death. Just take it.”

  Without further hesitation, I leaned forward to take the leftover portion, devouring it while keeping my eyes to the ground. How pathetic I must look . . . and desperate?

  When dinner was over, Rex leaned back against a log in front of the fire, lazily feeding it as the sky grew darker around us. I wasn't sure if he wanted my company or not, but I decided to stick around anyway, watching him with a fascination that I had never had for another human being before.

  “How . . . did you learn to care for yourself like this?” I asked cautiously.

  “My brother taught me most of it. You have to learn how to survive when you grow up like I did, otherwise you just die. I probably would have if not for my brother,” he paused. “Or do you even remember my story? You interviewed so many other werewolves before and after me,” Rex's tone turned harsh, and I tried not to take offense to it, training myself to realize that this was just the way he was. He hadn't known much kindness in his life—hadn't learned proper social skills. This was the only way Rex knew how to communicate.

  “I remember,” I replied. “Your story was unique.”

  “I'm gonna start teaching you how to do all this stuff soon . . . in case I die or something.”

  “I'm not sure I can kill an animal,” I confessed.

  “I saw you fishing. Or were you just playing a game of catch and release?” sarcasm was clear in his voice.