Chapter 17 #2
“Hey… I’m gonna go frolic in the woods… naked,” he said before laughing. “Joking… maybe… sort of…”
I stared at him, unsure how to respond to that. I looked over at the clock, and it was already after four. I’d read right through lunch.
“Um… okay… You have fun with that,” I said.
“Seriously, though, if there is an emergency, holler my name real loud. Or call 9-1-1 or Lina. Although I suspect Lina will be here after a while,” he said, then walked out the door.
My stomach twisted, and my chest ached. I was alone.
Truly alone. Even before I was kidnapped, I hadn’t really been alone.
Aspen was always there. Our door was always revolving with friends escaping their own shitty home lives.
I picked my book back up and carried on.
Escaping in the books had made the days go by faster.
They reminded me that true love was out there somewhere.
Awooooooo. Awooooooo.
I let the book drop into my lap, my eyes darting around the room. My heart was probably doing double time. Nausea rushed over me. It sounded somewhat close. It had to be Quinn.
A couple more howls, but they were a little further away. It was almost pitch-black outside. My hands started shaking. Good Lord, Zalayuh. Get it together. You’re an adult. You’re fine. An adult who has been held captive for months and never spent a night completely alone, but you’re fine.
The rattling noise of a truck and headlights coming down the drive eased me a little. It was Lina. Or I hoped it was. I went to the window and peeked out. The truck pulled in, cut the engine, and then Lina started walking toward the house. I opened the door to invite her.
“Hi Lina,” I said.
“I heard you might need some company this evening,” she said.
“Yeah… honestly, I was having some anxiety right before you showed up.”
“Figures,” she said. She walked inside and sat down in the blue chair that I normally claimed. I took the green one.
“What was troubling you?” she asked.
“I… well… I’ve never actually been alone, and… of course I don’t really know this place. Then I heard the howls outside,” I said.
“Oh, I’m sure it was Quinn letting you know he was near,” she said.
“It’s nerve-racking,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m sure it is. Have you eaten?”
“No… I need to get up and make myself something,” I told her.
“Figures. It’s why I brought a casserole,” she said, then stood up and walked out the door. Within a minute, she came back inside with a glass pan all wrapped up. “It’s kind of like jambalaya.”
I got up and grabbed two plates, one for both of us. I scooped her some food and handed it to her. She looked at me and gave a slight smile. I served myself and joined her at the table.
“How has it been… with Quinn?” she asked.
“Good, I guess… what do you mean?”
“I know they can be broody the days before shifting.”
“Oh yeah… he was like that when we were at the house. I just didn’t know why then,” I said.
“Oh, so he told you why he or some of them get so flustered?”
“Well… he didn’t say a reason… I just thought it related to the moon.”
“Oh, it relates to the moon, all right,” she said.
“I told him he was like a PMSing woman, grumpy in the days leading up to it,” I told her.
She almost choked on her food laughing. “How did he take that?”
“Well, he told me it was complicated, and he wasn’t explaining it to me.”
“I bet he did,” she said, still laughing. “I’m not sure you or I are ready for this conversation, either.”
I tilted my head at her. “I feel like there is something big I’m missing.”
“Oh, you are…”
“Well… I’m waiting…”
“Have you ever heard that some women’s cycles sync with the moon? Some women start around a full moon, some around a new moon. If a woman starts around a full moon, which is more common, it generally means they are fertile around the new moon.”
“What does a woman’s cycle have to do with this?”
“I’m getting there… The shifting that happens is linked to women. Linked to creating more werewolf babies. The days leading up to the full or new moon, werewolves are… they… well, they are horny, dear.”
I gasped. She was right. I wasn’t prepared for this conversation.
“When they first transition, these feelings are more heightened up to a week before shifting, but as they control it better, it usually is only the two to three days before. They are quite sensitive to pheromones. Do ya know what that is?”
“A smell that we release?” I asked.
“Sort of yes, they are scents that humans have. We generally don’t notice it on each other. They are excreted through various body smells, like sweat,” she said.
I gulped. I thought about how bothered he was after my run yesterday. He said I smelled ripe, and that it wasn’t a bad thing. I felt the warmth rush into my cheeks.
“Yes, dear, he smells you,” she said.
Except she didn’t know exactly why I felt embarrassed.
“Wonderful,” I managed to say.
“So long story short, for werewolves, this is their breeding time if you will. Men that are… ahem… satisfied tend to be less snappy on the days leading up to shifting,” she said.
“Wait… are you suggesting?”
“No. No. No. I was just explaining this very awkward conversation to you. Of course, this is how my sister explained it to me. I may have lost some details over the years,” she said.
“This was… um… yeah… I was indeed not prepared for it,” I said. I shoveled the jambalaya into my mouth. My mind spun trying to formulate thoughts.
“You got real quiet?” she said.
“What am I supposed to say? He wants sex, and he’s grumpy because he doesn’t get it,” I said.
“Well.. It’s more complicated than that. His is primal. Werewolves usually marry other werewolves, so it’s not an issue. Well, there is a mating and binding process, but I won’t get into that… it will confuse you more,” she said.
“I’m already confused…”
“Now think how I felt when my sister got involved with a werewolf…”
“So, she wasn’t one, right?”
“Nope.”
“At first, I didn’t like it—their relationship, I mean, but they loved each other, and she welcomed the times he was infatuated with her,” she said while laughing.
“She didn’t feel like he was using—”
“No. No. The thing is, he loved her immensely. He only ever wanted her, never looking at another woman. He doted on her every day. It made her want him just as much as he wanted her,” she said.
“Oh… you sound almost jealous,” I said.
“Sometimes I was. I think most women want a love like that,” she said.
“What did you have?”
“I did have something like that at first, and then after Malika, we both lost parts of ourselves. What I didn’t share the other day was that when I got to the hospital, the doctors took what made me a woman.
I thought it was because I was a black woman and they treated me so poorly.
I couldn’t have babies anymore, and he started drinking.
I focused on taking care of women—especially black women—better.
He killed himself a few years later,” she said.
“Oh, my Lord… I’m so so sorry,” I gasped out.
“He blamed himself for not being here, for not taking care of me better in my postpartum, not speaking out for me, and everything else,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
I pushed my bowl to the side and reached across the table, grabbing her hands. I gently squeezed them to let her know I was there with her. There were no words then, and there weren't any now. It was her grief.
“Well, that’s enough of all of that. Quinn may have mentioned you brought up Christmas,” she said.
“I actually almost forgot, until we were talking about him training me, and then I realized what tomorrow was,” I said.
“Did you celebrate at home?”
“Oh yes! We had a big ol’ tree. My mom layaway’d all year for our presents. She had so many flaws, but she showered us with gifts and candy on Christmas. Then we would have a big Christmas supper with all the traditional fixins,” I told her.
A smile took over my face. Thinking of how excited Aspen was waking up to all the presents and stockings crammed full of candy and little gifts.
The smile quickly faded as it hit me that I wouldn’t be seeing her little face, that I wouldn’t be seeing any of them.
I planned to get her Polly Pockets and Barbies.
Izayuh would have still been safe within me, but I’d be gathering items for him.
Salty tears hit my lips. I quickly wiped them away.
“It’s okay to be sad about not seeing them,” she told me, squeezing my hands this time.
“Thinking of Aspen’s little face made me so happy, but then it made me so freaking sad,” I told her.
“Well… I brought something for us to do,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“A Christmas tree, lights, and some bulbs. Nothing too crazy,” she said.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be this evening—Christmas Eve and all?”
“There is no better place I’d rather be than here with you,” she said.