~ Chapter 1 ~
Sometimes I wish I were human. Only having to worry about when the rent was due or if there were groceries in the fridge would be a boon. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with this woman's overwhelming perfume. I mean really. Whoever came up with that scent obviously had no nose. Oh wait. Brittany Spears perfume. Probably from Macy's. Which meant the woman wasn't local.
Oh joy.
"Oh aren't these the cutest keychains?"
Nope. Definitely tourist. And from her accent, Charleston.
"Now, do you suppose these'll shrink in the wash?"
"They're pre-shrunk cotton ma'am. I'm sure they'll be just fine."
Really, it was incredibly hard to keep a smile with customers like this coming in every five minutes.
"Oh really? So you're positive?"
And if she was worrying that much about cotton teaching, she had bigger issues the dealing with my fake courtesy.
"Absolutely ma'am. That'll be $56.73, please."
Without another complaint—thankfully—the woman hands over her card, and I run it through the machine, wishing the card reader would speed up. Or the credit process faster. Or the receipt printer hurry up. Anything to get this woman and her god-awful perfume away from me.
"If I could get your signature…"
In another minute, I was smiling and handing her a paper bag filled with tourist merchandise. This time, the smile was genuine. The tourist was leaving which made me a very happy checker.
Too bad her perfume lingered in the air. Raising a finger to the next customer in line, I turned around to blow my nose. Though it'd be more accurate to say I snorted into the tissue and disguised it as a mild cold. It helped a bit with the perfume smell, but now I had tissue scent in my nose too.
It just wasn't my day.
Throwing away the tissue, I turn around to thank the customer for their patience, but the words stick in my throat as another scent assaults me.
Cigar smoke.
"Afternoon, sir," I say automatically, wondering just what brings my boss out of his office. Yes, the gift shop had a separate office. But this was Cherokee, the city named after the Indian nation that used to live in the area. Before the Trail of Tears, of course. They'd reclaimed it since then. And established a tourist trap. But it was an easy place for someone like me to get a job, and it was in an actual store, unlike some of the National Park's gift shops. In those, it'd be hard to hide. Here, Cherokee had a sixth sense for the unnatural or something. For some reason, I still had a job despite that.
"Why'd you come to work sick?" he said without preamble, his Native-tanned skin only a couple shades darker than my own. Maybe that was why it was easy to get a job. I looked Cherokee. It helped that I was a quarter Cherokee.
"Just a mild cold," I lied without meeting his gaze. Mr. Joseph Ravensnest might have been just Indian, but I'd swear he could tell a lie as easily as any werewolf. Did they exist? Oh yeah. They were not just stories to scare children into submission. Too bad I was easily scared into submission. Even by my perfectly human boss.
"Hnn." After another moment, Joseph turned around and left me alone, greeting one of the tourists with the stoic face everyone imagined on a red-skinned man with a waist-long black braid. It gave me room to breathe. At least that one woman's perfume was gone. Oh if only this day were over. How many hours until my shift was up? Even I knew my hearing wasn't that strong, but I swore I could hear the clock ticking. A digital clock.
I really hated my heightened senses.
"Hey Sam."
Shit.
"Hey Neil."
Now I smelled the distinct musk of wolf. Damn it. I really needed to work on that. But the gift shop had way too many smells to keep track of, what with all the traffic. Sure, maybe someone more experienced could pick each of them out, but I'd been working for 11 hours already and still had two left. Without meat for lunch. Peanut butter was not a good substitute. And Neil smelled like fresh blood which did not help my empty stomach or my nerves.
"Still working in this dump, I see." Ah Neil. So subtle. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Joseph stiffen and get that steely look in his eye, the look that always told me to be nicer to customers. But that Cherokee sixth sense must have kept him from upbraiding Neil, because he turned away, leaving me to deal with the wolf at the counter.
"It pays the rent," I said, hoping he would take the hint and leave. Neil and I, not the greatest of friends. We had history. Rough history.
"But not much more." Damn you, Neil. I gave him a quick glare, saw his grin, and remembered myself, dropping my gaze. Neil was fourth. I was last. No. Lower than last. A submissive. Heightened senses came with the territory, but not rank or strength. Looking him in the eye was only asking for trouble, and he'd given it to me several times. No scars, of course, thanks to the astounding healing rate, but I remembered them. And no doubt he did too.
And he smelled of blood. I wondered whose but didn't have the opening—or the guts—to ask. So I kept my head down and checked another customer out, pretending I didn't have a tall, scary predator standing over my shoulder. With him this close and a bit of focus, I determined the blood wasn't human or wolf. Maybe he'd been out hunting. Or even shopping. Sometimes those meatpackers did shoddy work.
My stomach growled. I ignored it and smiled to the man and his two kids as they walked out of the store with child-sized bows and arrows to match. Maybe I could borrow a set from Joseph. Then I could at least kill a rabbit or two and eat it before someone else stole it from me. Even rabbit sounded good after two days of peanut butter and rice and beans. When the customers had left and no one else was immediately in line—in fact the store was almost empty thanks to the late hour of 7, a fact I did not enjoy—Neil came around and leaned next to the till, pulling the dangerous rogue act that had won the heart of many a lady.
Why he did it to me, I never figured out.
Yet there he was. Playing with the souvenir keychains by hitting them with a souvenir pen. A wild grin on his face.
I checked the receipt printer's supply of tape.
"Seriously Sam," Neil conveniently interrupted my thrilling chore. "Get some more meat on your bones. It's not healthy." Ah, here it comes. "Let me take you out hunting sometime. I'll even let you have the heart."
That feeling that some women got when a total creeper hit on them, yeah. I was having that vibe. Of course, I knew Neil. He tried this with all the female wolves. Granted, there were only four in the pack, two of whom were mated. I wasn't one of them. His charms worked on human women as well, but I avoided them. Sometimes even normal women could sense something different about me.
Maybe I wasn't as good at control as I should have been.
Neil chuckled, and my eyes darted to him reflexively. First lesson I learned from my father: never take your eyes from a predator; always keep them in your sight. I dropped my gaze when Neil looked up. The till suddenly became very interesting as I cracked open a roll of dimes.
"Suit yourself," he said in that infuriatingly smooth way of his. But I could hear the underlying animal. Though his eyes stayed brown, I knew his wolf was close. Mine responded but calmed as Neil turned his back. He wasn't a threat with his back turned. "The offer still stands though, should you want a real meal and change your mind."
And then he was gone, taking the scent of blood and earth with him. I sighed and braced myself on the counter, closing my eyes as I regained control of my wolf once more. Neil must have seen my hunger. That was why he offered the hunt and the heart. The heart was the most tender… I grit my teeth, desperately hoping my eyes were their normal gray when I looked up.
The kid at the counter stared at me, eyes wide.
"Can I help you find something?" I asked lamely, knowing perfectly well my eyes were still shifting if that kid's face was any indication.
Instead of answering, the kid just walked off, looking over his shoulder at the weird lady behind the counter and calling for his mommy.
A hand on my shoulder had me leaping out of my skin. By the time I'd turned around, my heart was racing and my eyes were definitely not gray judging by the growl in the back of my head and sudden craving for violence.
Joseph didn't even flinch, only strengthening my theory that he knew perfectly well what I was.
"Go home, Sam," he said in that resonant voice of his. It always calmed my wolf for some reason. I felt her retreat and relax under this dominant presence, even if Joseph was human and not wolf. A flicker of interest lit Joseph's eyes for a moment, but I quickly dropped my gave, muttering a thanks under my breath. "And do as he says," he continued as I turned to leave. "Go get some food in you. I could hear your stomach from across the store."
Not waiting another minute, I closed my till and headed out the door. It might have only been a little after seven, but it was chilly outside. Even in September, frost still lined blades of grass as winter made her presence known. The few customers settling their goods into cars cast some curious looks my way as I walked through the parking lot without a jacket. I could feel their eyes on me and cast covert glances to be sure. There was that kid again, pointing and whispering to his mom about the woman with "cool changy eyes." I ducked my head and hurried on, turning down the street.
After a few blocks of fast walking, I was far enough away from the shop and ducked down another side street, this one ending just a few feet shy of a stream bank. Not caring about the dirt and mud, I slid down the steep drop until my feet hit water. I hated changing with wet feet, but fur would be far warmer than my polo.
So close to the full moon it was a risk changing, but my stomach was empty, and hunting rabbits was free. I wasn't lying when I told Neil my job paid the rent. It paid it alright, but barely. Meat was expensive. Rabbits were free. Thus my mind was made up. Near full moon or not, I was hunting. Even if I had to settle for a squirrel.
The porch light was on by the time I got back to my house, telling me my two roommates were home. I growled. I hated changing with them in the house, but changing outside and walking in naked was very much out of the question. At least I was in control for the moment. My wolf was satisfied for the time being with three rabbits and two squirrels for the night's meal, so I was able to make the decision to go through the doggy door.
Yep. Cologne and sweat socks. My roommates were definitely home. And watching Monday Night Football. Good. They wouldn't hear my change over the TV.
"'Ey Sam," one of them, Chuck by the sound of it, must have heard the door flap shut or my claws on the wood floor.
"Hi Sam," Paul said mechanically, too into the game to pay me any mind. I snorted. The two of them were not submissives like me, but so low in the pack they might as well have been. Neither of them were strong by any means, but both were far stronger than me. They left me alone most nights, especially during football season. Or any sports season, really. The break between the World Series and opening day of the NFL was the worst time.
Carrying my clothes in my mouth—they tasted like dirt and clay from where I'd hid them while hunting—I trotted up to the loft, thankful for once that I didn't have a door to open. Wolf paws were not suited for turning doorknobs. I really needed to convince Chuck and Paul to install handles instead. Dumping my clothes in my laundry basket, I trotted to the bathroom and shook off what debris and dirt I could. My feet dragged as I returned to my room, and I seriously considered sleeping as a wolf. But if someone woke me, I'd have no control of my wolf.
Human it was then.
I hopped onto my bed and nosed my way under the blankets, wriggling around until I'd managed to get my head on my pillow and my tail at a comfortable angle. My blankets were a wreck, but at least they were warm. I'd have to wash them in the morning, or take a lint roller to them. Something to get the wolf hair off. Closing my eyes, I sighed and tried to relax into the change.
The tip given to me shortly after my first full moon never helped. How someone could relax through this, I'd never know. I tried to keep my noises to a minimum. Paul and Chuck were wolves after all. They'd hear me during quieter commercials or the game commentary. It took a while, far longer than I'd seen some wolves change. But my wolf struggled the whole way, fighting my tentative control.
A full quarter of the game went by before I was in my own body again. I swore I could feel the thread count of my sheets for how sensitive my skin was after every change. My muscles screamed for several long minutes as they readjusted to my new bone structure.
I must have fallen asleep somewhere between the muscle-shifting and nerve-adjusting stages of the change, because the next time I woke up, I stared straight into the yellow eyes of a wolf.
