Kitty Takes a Holiday (Kitty Norville 3)

But still.

The sun was almost above the trees. However much I wanted to stay here all day, we had to go back. Back to the world.

Ben was the one who said, “I guess we ought to get back before Cormac comes looking for us.”

The bounty hunter would do it, too. Track us down. I wasn’t entirely confident what he would do when he found us. I dug out the clothes I’d stashed and split them between us. We dressed, helped each other to our feet, and set off for the cabin.

In my pack back in Denver, the alpha male, Carl, had made sleeping around a habit. If lycanthropy was to the libido what gasoline was to fire, Carl took full advantage of it. Shape-shifting was foreplay to him, and as head of the pack he had his own harem. At his call, every one of us would roll over on our backs, showing him our bellies like good submissive wolves. My Wolf had loved it: the attention, the affection, the sex. The abuse—verbal and occasionally otherwise—that he heaped along with the attention hardly mattered. At least until I couldn’t take it anymore. Carl was still in Denver. That was why I couldn’t go back.

I didn’t want to be like that. If I had to be the alpha of our little pack of two, I didn’t want to be that kind of alpha. I didn’t want to screw around just because I could.

Or had it happened because I liked him? I did like him. But would I have ever slept with him, if we hadn’t been naked in the woods and smelling like wolves? Would it have ever even been an issue?

Had that been Ben holding me tightly and kissing me eagerly, or his wolf?

Did it even matter?

These things were so much clearer to the Wolf side: You like him? H

e’s naked? He’s interested? Then go for it! Only the human side was worried about people’s feelings getting hurt.

He walked a couple steps behind me—that submissive wolf thing again. His head was bent, and he looked tired, with shadows under his eyes. But he didn’t seem angry, frightened, tense, or any of the other things I might have expected to see in a newly minted werewolf. He caught me watching him, and I smiled, trying to be encouraging. He smiled back.

“What are you going to tell Cormac?”

“Don’t shoot?” He winced and shook his head. “You were right, I was wrong? I don’t know. I’m confused. I don’t want to die. I never did. You know that, right?”

I slowed my steps until we were walking side by side. A couple of barefooted nature freaks out for a morning stroll in the dead of winter. I wasn’t cold; I could still feel his arms around me. “You were pretty determined there for a while.”

“I was scared,” he said. After a moment, he added, “Does it get easier? Less confusing? Less like there’s an extra voice in your head telling you what to do?”

I had to shake my head. “No. It just gets confusing in different ways.”

Then, almost suddenly, the trees thinned and the clearing in front of the cabin opened before us. The sun was shining full on the porch. Cormac stood there, leaning on the railing. A rifle was propped next to him. Ready and waiting.

I stopped; Ben stopped next to me. My instinct said to run, but Cormac had already seen us. He didn’t move, he just looked out at us, waiting for us to do something.

Cormac had had plenty of chances to shoot me dead and hadn’t yet. I didn’t think he’d start now. I hoped he wouldn’t start now. I walked toward the front door like nothing was wrong. Ben followed, slowly, falling behind. Cormac watched him, not me.

“Morning,” I said, waving a little as I came within earshot. I tried to sound cheerful, but it came out wary.

“Well?”

Climbing the stairs, I crossed my arms and continued my campaign of strained brightness. “Well, it’s a nice day. Lots of sun. Everything’s fine.”

By then Ben reached the porch stairs. Cormac’s glare was challenging, but he wouldn’t know that. Ben hesitated—I could almost see him start to wilt, growing defensive.

“Ben?” I said. He shifted his gaze to me, and the confrontation was broken.

“You okay?” Cormac said to him.

After a moment he said, “Yeah. Just fine.” He sounded resigned rather than convinced.

“No more talk about shooting you, then.”

“No.”

I didn’t know what Cormac expected. Maybe he’d spent all night working himself up to kill his cousin in cold blood, and now it seemed like he didn’t quite believe that Ben had opted out. His expression was neutral, unreadable, as usual.