Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
NPC: An ancient white wolf with silver eyes
"You came trembling into the thicket, but you did not run. You listened. You shared warmth. Then the frost forgot your name."
"We are the first fear.
We are the last song.
Alone, we devour. Together, we bow.
What are we?"
Gray
I listened, door open on the frigid night. It came again—a sound as distinctive as a struck match in a dark room. At least, it was to a lifelong fan of Dracula.
Arroooooooo!
"Oh my God!" Patrick said. "Shut the door! Shut the door!"
I have to admit, I did, and double-time. But my brain wasn't as convinced as my primitive lizard nervous system.
"It must be a husky or something," I rationalized.
Patrick slowly shook his head. "Dude. That was a wolf."
"Not in Wayne, Illinois," I insisted. "If we were in Yellowstone, maybe."
"I bet there were wolves in Belgen, Norway when that was carved!" He poked a finger at Krampus, who was sitting on the dash.
"Patrick. That doesn't make any sense," I said gently.
He slumped. "No, that doesn't make any sense."
The sound came again—Arroooooooo! This time another one joined it, and a third.
Fuck. It was a pack of wolves.
My palms began to sweat. I unzipped my coat and ran a finger along my collar. A warm hand found mine, I met Patrick's gaze.
"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I got you into this. I thought maybe…" He stopped.
"What?" I squeezed his hand.
"I thought maybe Krampus was done. But it's worse than ever! The car, your phone… Wolves!"
"It can't be wolves," I said, but I wasn't so sure. Frankly, for the first time all night, I was deeply creeped out.
We sat in silence for several minutes, just listening. Heavy, fat flakes of snow made a barely perceptible shush as they hit the windshield.
There was the sound of footfalls outside, and not human ones.
Patrick sat up straight, his hand gripped mine. "They're outside," he whispered.
I looked—or tried to. The windows were already fogging up. I cleared a spot on the driver's side, cupped my hand, and peered out. But it was dark, and I couldn't see anything.
I heard, barely, the sound of panting and of paws on fresh snow.
I looked at Patrick. His eyes were huge. Right. It was time to get ahold of myself. "It's okay, honey. They can't get in."
"They can't get in?" he repeated, unsure. "And could you call me honey again?"
"No way can they get in, honey. Do you remember Cujo? That dog couldn't get in, and that was a crappy little imported car, and Cujo was massive. No way is any animal breaking into this BMW. This thing is a tank."
"I love that you know Cujo." Patrick shifted over to lay his head on my shoulder.
"Yeah, that's the comforting part about what I just said." I chuckled.
"It is. I mean, the can't-get-in part is nice too."
I shifted to put my arm around him and leaned my chin on his hair. It felt really good. Better than it had any right to, given the circumstances.
"You're right," he said firmly. "They sound scary. But they're out there, and we're in here. They can't really hurt us."
"No. They can't really hurt us."
Something about that struck me deep, as if we weren't just talking about wolves.
They're out there, and we're in here, and they can't really hurt us.
Why did I spend time worrying about what others thought?
Of me, of my lifestyle, of my romantic inclinations.
They were only howls in the night, shadows.
Patrick and me—we were safe together, safe in our little nest.
I suddenly thought of something Patrick had said. "What did you mean, you thought Krampus was done?"
He stiffened in my arms but didn't move. "Well…."
"Mmm?"
"I'm always the one who stays safe and alone. I don't want to be that guy anymore. So, I made a wish…. you know, the heart's desire thing. I thought once my wish was fulfilled, Krampus wouldn't have any more reason to torture me. So."
I almost hated to ask, because I thought I knew, but what if it wasn't what I hoped for? "What was your wish, Patrick?"
"To meet someone," he said, so low I barely heard. He cleared his throat. "And I met you. I thought that was why Krampus kept sending me to the ER." He snorted. "Thank God my perfect man wasn't a funeral director."
I laughed, deeply and with a tickle of joy in my chest. "Yes, thank God."
He looked up at me, his eyes questioning.
"I didn't make a wish," I said. "But I got my heart's desire too. Lucky me."
Patrick leaned up and kissed me. I kissed him back, as thoroughly as I could. And, because there was nothing else to be done, and nowhere else to go, we kept kissing.
His kisses were everything I'd ever imagined a kiss could be. Sweet and filthy at the same time, warm and addictive. I shifted to deepen the kiss without craning my neck, careful of his arm sling. That reminded me of his injuries, and I broke off reluctantly. "I don't want to hurt you."
"The only thing that could hurt me is you stopping," he panted. The light was dim, but his shadowy face looked like desire itself as he looked up at me. "Let's get in the back seat. Please. I want this."
God, I did too. But I hesitated. "You can't climb over with that arm and foot. The only way you're getting in the back is by exiting the car. And they're out there."
He considered this. "I can move fast. And they won't attack if I'm only leaving to get in the back."
"How do you figure that?"
"Because they want us to make out."
He said it so seriously, I had to laugh. "You think?"
"Clearly." He glowered at me. "Isn't it obvious? Why else would they make you run out of gas on a deserted road like this?"
Frighteningly, this made sense.
"What if you're wrong?"
"I'm not," he said confidently. And then, before I could stop him, he opened the passenger door and maneuvered his boot outside.
"Shit!" I jumped out on my side and looked around—there wasn't a living thing stirring up and down the road. But there were paw prints in the snow. I was pretty sure anyway.
I didn't take the time to look harder. I raced around the car to Patrick.
He already had the back door open and was hopping to turn around.
I helped him as best I could, and once he slid onto the bench seat in the back, I shut the door, raced around to the other side, and got in.
It felt really good to slam that door. Then I remembered something.
"Wait," I said. "There's a blanket in the trunk."
"You're going out again?" he asked, surprised.
Yes, yes, I was. I hadn't seen anything out there, after all.
I popped the door, ran to the back, grabbed the blanket, and ran back, dodging inside.
It was so ridiculous, I had to laugh at myself.
But it also felt thrilling, the feeling you have as a kid when you go down the giant slide for the first time at the water park.
Like, you might die? But it was too exciting to not try it.
I spread the blanket out over us. It was already starting to get cold in the car. "The wild bunch appear to be gone. I should probably make another attempt to reach civilization on foot."
Patrick clutched me. "No way. They'll be back if you try that, and you know it."
I decided not to argue.
"So, we stay here til morning?" I said, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead.
"Looks like it," Patrick said seriously. "You know, if Krampus is determined to get us together, maybe some kind of consummation would break the curse." He blinked at me innocently.
"You think?"
"Yes. Besides, you have to keep me warm. I'm very fragile."
He was hilarious. "I'll do my best. Though you really shouldn't be fooling around with those injuries. The oxy must have worn off by now. Aren't you in pain?"
"Yes, actually." He bit his lip. "It hurts awfully. But I've heard sex releases a natural oxytocin and other amazing painkillers."
Right again. This man was brilliant. So, really, there was nothing else I could ethically do, as his doctor. I pulled him gently into my lap and kissed him.