Mistress of Blood and Fur

Chapter 8 - Rustling

Onyx

I’m still reeling from what happened. Gone’s the decision to play it cool, or to think of it as something temporary. After I got her off last night, it was funny at first. After all, I’ve always thought that the virgin werewolf wouldn’t do anything like that - at all. Then, she ran off, half-sobbing, and I was left behind feeling terrible even though, damn it, I couldn’t think of anything else to do at that time but to help her out.

Wasn’t that helping? f**k. Maybe not. I’ve always thought I was above this mate bond. I’m not supposed to feel hot and bothered. What about work in the city? Getting my degree was a way for me to prove I’m more than this blood-bound animal, but last night showed that it’s not that easy to escape your nature. Last night showed that I might just end up staying here for good. The future suddenly feels bleak, even though heaven seems so close to Opium Hills. I remember the storms that rolled from the horizon in my childhood. They didn’t feel like they were coming from above. Instead, they seemed like they were coming from behind, chasing me.

Well, the wolves have chased me down good. I’m here. Am I not? I’m now riddled with guilt about something that felt natural at the moment.

In the real world, if I see someone doing that, I will definitely ask first. I’m all for consent. She did say okay. I pull at my hair, anxious. I know it’s a serious matter.

I may have slept with several women in the human world, but I have never lost control like that. Never. The mating ritual between Justine and Logan has aroused more than just silly jokes about how things echo on the hills. Marco and I were supposed to check out the perimeter of the newly-mated couple's hut but I told him I could do it myself. It’s not like we truly believe anyone’s going to stop the mating, but it’s happened in the past - a tale for another day.

Anyway, I smelled Grace’s scent leaving the hut she shares with the other brides. I followed her, and was surprised at how she gave in to the call of the wild not too far from two wolves rutting. I was even more surprised that I had let myself be swept away.

In the light of the day, I wonder if she thought I had taken advantage of her. My palms sweat at the thought. It’s not like me at all, but I haven’t been with anyone as innocent.

What happened to her?

“Her wolf must have awakened,” Blaze whispers in my head. He even sounds a little too solemn for my taste, but he never stopped me last night. We just became one in our lust.

“That makes sense,” I mutter. “She needs someone to help her control it.”

I don’t even know I’m the right person for that. I think of Fox. I think of what happened and how I wouldn’t want anyone else near her if she became overcome with that kind of lust again. The whole thing is uncharacteristic for both of us, and I’m ready to apologize or even get yelled at by my father if ever she reports me. So, I stand not too far from her hut, ready to take the brunt of her anger - or worse, her tears.

It’s around 9 o’clock. Grace usually wakes up much earlier, but I didn’t see anyone stirring until about an hour ago, but it was only Carlotta. She gave me a look that seemed to say, “I knew you’d come looking for me.” She preened and stretched, until she realized I wasn’t interested and that my guilty eyes kept darting to their hut.

The garden hut isn’t primitive by a long shot. It’s small, but it has three tiny rooms, and a bathroom with a toilet inside. The rooms are modern, though plain, and the wood polished well. It’s more like a small version of a modern cottage, but the name somehow stuck. During stormy weather, we shelter the hut dwellers into the mansion. The other higher-ranked families have larger homes, and they were built closer to the mansion, which is considered the main house. The Opium Hills wolves have never been traditional, and we cringe at the thought of calling it a pack house. Most of the younger ones have taken a firm grip on the 21st century.

“Onyx?” The lovely voice breaks through my reverie. I exhale audibly, no longer trying to look cool. I don’t feel confident at this very moment. I know I have f****d up. That was no way to treat a virgin.

“Hey,” I say, raking my hair with my fingers. It now feels too long. How does she see me? I never cared about how people think of my looks, but now I wonder if the longish hair makes me look dangerous. Irresponsible.

“At this point? Dangerous to yourself, maybe,” Blaze growls.

“Y-you’re here.” She’s just as nervous, and I feel even more terrible. She regretted all of it. I can’t even blame her.

“I-I’m here to apologize, Grace,” I begin.

“N-not your fault,” she says, bowing her head. So, are we back to square one?

“Mine.”

Our eyes meet then, and I’m tempted to give a different spin to the word I just said.

“I was the pervert spying on Justine and Logan,” she says, her eyes watery.

“Hey - hey. I could have walked away. Damn, I could have even teased you, which is still an asshole move, but I put my hands on you. I’m not supposed to do that.”

“I let you.”

I swallow and take a deep breath. It’s been awhile since I felt this guilty. The other instances were also with women. Breaking my first girlfriend’s heart. We were fifteen. Too damn young to know what we were doing. Then, there was mom. I visibly shake my head to get rid of all thoughts of her. Not now. No.

“You’ll have to face these things, eventually, Onyx,” Blaze says sagely.

It looks like Grace and I have reached a point where neither would let the other take the blame. There’s only one way to move forward.

“Let’s start from scratch if it’s okay,” I suggest.

She looks at me as if I have gone crazy. Then, the wide eyes narrow so that I can no longer read them as well. Her hands are in fists.

“W-what if I do that again? Will you find me?”

“Find you to do what?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.

“To save me from myself.”

“No. She doesn’t need saving. Tell her, Onyx! That’s her wolf! Her nature! It’s natural for her.”

“She still needs to control it,” I mutter.

“What did you say?”

“I may have to bring you to Dad. Let him talk to you.”

“No! No!” Her voice rises in panic. Her hands squeeze each other.

“Okay. I won’t. I’ll be there, Grace, but I - I can’t promise I can save you if I can’t save myself.”

“It’s okay. Just be there,” she says softly.

We now have a little secret, but my father words ring in my ears, “She gets to choose, Onyx! Not you. If she doesn’t choose you, hands off. You hear me?”

Our conversation is going swimmingly, although doubts still could my mind. Doubts that had not been there. I take her hand in mine. Hers is cold, but she gives in to the heat of my palm until her skin returns to wolf temperatures.

“Do you hear that?” she asks, her anxiety no longer my doing. My heart had been pounding in my ears and I’m just now hearing other things besides her voice and mine. Now comes the rustling of dead leaves, and an increasing volume of unwelcome conversation.

I growl by instinct, and her hand is now gripping mine and not the other way around. She’s trying to calm me, and her scent does that. The same scent heated my blood last night. Now, its soothing me.

“Strangers,” I say.

“Oh, there you are,” my father says. His voice may sound even and friendly, but I hear something else under the surface. I can smell it in his sweat, dotting his temples. I can feel it in the way the leaves rustled more loudly as his boots pressed on them harder.

“I’m just here with Grace,” I say, presenting useless information. My eyes are riveted on the two uniformed men flanking him. One wears a pair of aviators. So, I have no f*****g way to see his eyes. I do feel the scent of arrogance and suspicion. Are we in trouble?

“Hello, son,” says the other man, the one not covering his eyes. I can see why. If they’re doing good cop-bad cop, this one’s your father figure with his kind face. I know better.

“You got that right,” Blaze growls. “We smell scum better.”

Grace’s fear is even more palpable. I want to reassure her without saying the words, but our minds are not linked, but I try anyway.

“We’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, Grace.”

It may have been my imagination but her eyes widens at me.

“We’ve heard reports that this place has a strange ratio of men to women,” “good cop” continues. “Your dad here explains something about your tribe’s women dying out and how some of the boys brought home their girlfriends for the summer.”

“It’s true, sir,” Grace says. Her voice is friendly and confident. She even glances at me with such fondness that my heart lurches. I mean I probably just have gas pains. “I’m here to visit with my boyfriend, Onyx. We’re both from the city. I’m on a break before college begins, and he’s just graduated.”

“Oh, is that so? Well, we’re just checking out a lead,” says “bad cop,” grinning to show big white teeth. Who’s the wolf now? “But I’m glad you cleared that up.”

The two look like they’re about to leave, when “bad cop” turns around again. “I’m Dennington, by the way, and he’s Smith. We’re also looking into the disappearance of a girl named Rosamund Ewing. Some people say the last place they saw her at was at the foot of Opium Hills.”

“Be on the lookout,” Smith says.

When the two finally left with my dad, I exhale and pace. Even if we have nothing to do with this Rosamund’s disappearance, I can somehow feel that’s not the last time we’ll see those two.

“You okay?”

“Those two are trouble,” I grunt. “Also, Rosamund Ewing? I think I know her.”

“Another ex?” she asks, wrinkling her nose. Then, she blinks twice.

“She’s jealous,” says Blaze with some satisfaction.

“No. I’m pretty sure that’s the name of a witch we knew from a few years back. She’s a shapeshifter, too. Which means -.”

“She can be anywhere,” Grace voices my anxiety, mirroring it with hers.

Fuck.