Winter Howl (Sanctuary) (21 page)

When the pleasure had passed, Renee lowered herself down beside Britt, tucked against her. They were facing the wrong way on the bed, with their feet near the pillow.

“Your bed is not big enough for this,” Britt said. She was staring at the ceiling with a smile on her face. Her lips were wet, and Renee licked the moisture off with the tip of her tongue before settling back. Britt stroked Renee’s hair, combing through it.

“You don’t say much, but you’re a quick learner, babe,” she muttered.

Renee just hugged herself closer. She was starting to get a little cold, and they were not facing the right way to get under the quilts.

“I’ll help you pack,” Britt said. “I’m not okay with it, but I can’t force you to stay. I mean, I could. We could tie you up inside the dog barn, drive Grant down south and stake him to a fire ant pile, but I don’t think you could ever forgive us for something like that.”

“Seriously?” Renee asked. Sometimes she couldn’t tell dry humour from when her friends were being literal, and considering their intense and bordering-on-violent dislike for Grant, Renee was not quick to dismiss the threat.

“No. But I’ve thought about it. On a fantasy level. I’d never really do it. I think. Anyway, I know there’s not much in the closet, but you never knew what to do with it anyway. I don’t know how, with over a decade of mainstream socialisation, you don’t know how clothes go together and I do.” She stood up from the bed and began rifling through Renee’s half of the closet.

“You watch more movies,” Renee said. “Why do you want to help me? You don’t want me to go.”

“It’s important to you,” Britt replied, not meeting her gaze. “And if you don’t come back in a week without calling us, I’ll get the National Guard to search every town outside Minneapolis. And this time, I’m being serious.”

“I’ll bring the cell.”

Britt began taking things out of the closet and putting them on the dresser. Renee wrapped the top quilt around herself and watched.

“Do you know that Grant likes you?” Renee asked.

Britt paused in her chore. “I know,” she replied. “I’m careful with him.” When Britt continued going through Renee’s clothes, Renee noticed that her hands were shaking. Renee furrowed her forehead. She was not sure what that meant—whether Britt was really afraid of Grant, or angry, or something else. Britt usually divulged everything to her, as much as Renee divulged very little. She was not used to fishing for clues how Britt felt or why she was feeling it.

“Does he hurt you?” Britt asked, with her back turned to Renee.

“No more than I hurt him.”

“That’s not very reassuring, Red.”

“What do you want to hear? That he’s a kind, caring, loving man? You know he’s none of those things,” Renee said. “I can’t gild him for you.”

Britt turned around to look at her, dark eyes fierce. “He’s taking you to the largest pack this far north. If you think being with Grant is treading on the dark side… I think he wants to turn you.”

“I know he does.”

Britt raised her eyebrow in more than just a question, but a touch of horror.

“He’s not going to turn me unless I want to be turned,” Renee said.

“And do you want to be turned?”

“I don’t know,” Renee replied.

Britt dropped what she was holding onto the dresser top. “Is this the same kind of ‘I don’t know’ as wanting Grant?”

Renee did not think she had ever seen Britt quite so mad at her before—angry, yes, but not at her.

“No,” Renee said. “I just don’t know my decision.”

“How can this even be a question?” Britt shouted, shaking her. “How can you even be thinking about becoming a werewolf? By choice? You know what they are, you know what they do.”

“They invade personal space and rile dogs up,” Renee said. “I don’t have the benefit of a sense of smell that discerns character or…mystical monstrosity or whatever. I don’t know werewolves, and I want to see for myself. I don’t want to just condemn an entire group of people because of the nature of one I’ve met. I don’t even want to outright condemn him. He’s not a good person, but I’m not convinced that he’s a bad one.”

Renee shrugged out of Britt’s grip, which was beginning to hurt, and touched Britt’s cheek lightly. “Do you really think that Grant is going to deliberately get me killed? Do you think he’ll turn me if I don’t ask him? He’s already had that opportunity. Many times. And he hasn’t.”

For a moment, Britt resembled Renee as she tried to answer, but clearly could not answer the way she wanted. Finally, she shook her head.

“Look,” Britt said, trying a different tack, “Jake didn’t want to concern you when we didn’t have any evidence of anything, but you know the dead hare and a few other animals? The ones killed but not eaten? There’ve been more that we haven’t told you about. There were some rabbits, rats, a hare, some squirrels, bird feathers all over. They’ve all been on the edge of the sanctuary. This was not just an isolated incident or something a sick animal did. Some
one
sick did this, Renee.”

Renee did not have to be told that they thought the animal killings were Grant. She believed they were, too. But as Britt and Jake said, they had no proof one way or another. For all they knew, it could have been a rogue shapeshifter.

And if it was Grant? He was keeping those impulses away from the compound, away from her dogs. Renee was disgusted by the idea that Grant could do that, although she was not surprised, but maybe he had come for sanctuary because of that impulse. It was possible he was trying to control it, but he couldn’t. In any case, they could not do anything about it for now.

Renee nodded, took in and filed the information. “I need to know, Britt. I need to see what Grant is for myself.”

Britt sighed. “I know you do. I’m just… I’m worried that it’ll make me lose you. If you become a werewolf, I’m not sure if this,
this
, can continue.”

“Because of the smell?”

“Because of everything,” Britt said. “The whole package. I don’t think you really understand what werewolves are to us. Humans who don’t shapeshift…you have the bogeyman. We have werewolves. Except we know they exist. Other creatures aren’t even on the radar. To them, we’re animal prey
and
human prey, no matter what shape we’re in. You
can’t
know. You can’t know how it is between us.”

Renee stood on her toes to kiss Britt on the side of her mouth. “I need to know.”

“I don’t want you to know,” Britt said. “I’m supposed to protect you, babe. That’s what I was called to do. It’s what I am. And I won’t be there with you. I’m scared. I’m scared you won’t come back.”

“I’ll come back,” Renee promised. “I’ll be back before Christmas.”

Chapter Eight

She hadn’t worn this skirt since high school, and although she hadn’t grown since sixth grade, she could not remember it being quite so short.

Britt had found a few skirts under the oversized T-shirts that Renee sometimes wore for pyjamas. Renee had completely forgotten about them. They weren’t exactly practical for her work, and they weren’t exactly practical now with the weather as it was. Her floor-length coat was not going to do much to keep the cold from going up her legs. But Britt had taken her best friend job to heart, no matter what the lover part of her was thinking. She told Renee to wear the skirt the first day at least.

Renee could wear a tank top and torn jeans during the summer when she was working in the sanctuary, no problem. But it was another matter to be going into town with her legs showing. In the dead of winter. With a man that no one in town had ever seen. She was not concerned about her reputation, which she knew had already been ruined by her quirks. But people would be looking at her a little more closely. She buried her hands in her coat pockets and wrapped the coat around her.

Grant didn’t talk to her. She didn’t mind. He had thrown his duffel and her vinyl suitcase into the back seat of the truck, then taken her keys from her without fanfare. When she had asked for his driver’s licence, he’d grinned a little and dug it out of the duffel. It was nice to have someone else drive for a change. He’d turned the radio dial to a classic rock station and occasionally tapped out a beat on the steering wheel. She was surprised at how comfortable it was. She was just nervous about what would happen when they got out of the car.

That morning, she had woken up to an empty house. When she’d walked down the stairs, all she’d heard was the click of dog claws on the wooden floors, and when she had opened the doors to the porch to a surprisingly tolerable morning, she had seen Jake’s golden retriever tail over the top of a snow bank, heading towards the barns.

Renee had anticipated that she and Grant would be leaving that afternoon. Her truck was tough and had weathered her through harder winters than this. Her dog pack must have known that, too, because all she’d seen of them were glimpses of dog fur. It was their way of ignoring her.

As Grant had turned the key in the ignition, then eased the truck down the dirt driveway, Renee had seen Britt sitting on the porch in her dog skin, watching them go. It had been the first time in years that she had left the sanctuary without Britt at her side. The early flutters of panic had begun to climb up her throat, and she’d clenched her hand in her over-the-shoulder bag, where she’d stored her anti-anxiety medication. She had already taken some, but it had felt good to be reassured.

Grant had distracted her with a hand high up on her thigh, where her skirt covered skin, and she had turned back around to look through the windshield.

Her stomach found her throat again when they reached downtown Antoine.

“I need to go to the bank,” Grant said. “You don’t have to come with me. But when I get back, we’re going to a bar and having a drink. Maybe five. You’ll eventually want to take off your coat. I can’t be the only one in town who wants to see those legs.” He pulled into a parallel parking space with surprising ease, then looked at her. “It won’t take long. Don’t run away.” If it had been anyone else, she would have thought he was considerate. But the look in his eye was not quite mocking. Close.

If she’d had control of her muscles, if she’d had control of her brain, she would have been able to get out of the truck and pace the sidewalk. Maybe look in a window or two while she was waiting for him to come out. Instead, all she could do was sit meekly and wonder if she could get away with taking off her seatbelt and sinking down into the foot space below. She felt like every passerby was looking through the windows, which were not even tinted. She knew logically that even if people were looking, they’d forget her almost as soon as they saw her, but her legs still felt locked in place. She waited and wished that she had Britt’s fur in her hands.

She noticed Marcus on the sidewalk, heading her way. She ducked her head so that her face was hidden, but she realised too late that her hair itself was enough to identify her. He slammed the flat of his hand into the window in greeting, and she jumped. He had done that on purpose.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Marcus said. His voice was muffled through the glass, but his leering grin was easy enough to see. “In town early this season, aren’t you? Decided you needed to see us after all?”

She unconsciously checked the locks, glad to find all the buttons were down. Marcus caught the direction of her gaze, and he grabbed the car door handle, jiggling it threateningly, all with a smile on his face. As if he thought scaring a woman was the way to her heart.

“Come on down to the bar with me,” Marcus said. “It’ll be fun. You can unwind. Maybe give us a dance or two. Loosen up.”

He bent down to peer directly at her. His eyes were a little red—not enough to indicate that he was drunk, but he had certainly been drinking.

“You don’t seem to have as much to say now that you’re out of your little piece of land,” Marcus muttered. “Can’t function unless you have an iron fence and barbed wire between you and everyone else?”

He looked down both sides of the street to make sure that he was not being watched, then leaned against the window and pressed his tongue right where her face was, leaving a trail of saliva on the glass.

“All you need to do is wrap your pretty little self around me, and I promise I’ll screw every thought out of that pretty little head.” He laughed as he grabbed his crotch. He gave an exaggerated moan, just loudly enough for her to hear it through the glass. “Come on, Renee, it’s all in good fun.”

She was seriously contemplating climbing to the driver’s side—if she could convince her arms and legs to move—when she saw Grant coming out of the bank, tucking something into his back pocket. The relief must have shown on her face because Marcus straightened and turned around. She wished she could have seen his expression, but she did see Grant’s—a perfect combination of glee and savagery that made Marcus jerk away from the car and stumble back around the front of the truck. In comparison to Marcus, who had been a linebacker in high school, Grant was about half his width and barely reached past Marcus’ chin. But it was undeniable who would win if it came to a fight, just by virtue of self-confidence. It was really no wonder that Marcus backed away in the presence of a far fiercer predator.

Grant took Marcus’ place outside her window. “It’s all right to come out. That cretin won’t lay a finger on you with me around.”