For once I didn’t inwardly cringe at the mention of her name. She’d been a dangerous and daunting figure—a member of a group parading as the CIA but with a much darker agenda. But she’d become more deeply involved with my father than any of us could have ever expected. They loved each other.
And love—even a love I still found creepy because it involved my father and a gun-toting research librarian—seemed to have helped her see the light and make the break away from the company that had employed her and tried to imprison the Rusakovas so they could be used as lab rats.
“I’ll have her see if the roads look clear out her way. And I’ll plow as soon as I’m off the phone with her. If it’s safe, you can go,” he assured me.
I ran to him, wrapping him in a grateful hug.
Annabelle Lee rolled her eyes.
Sticking my tongue out in return, I busied myself with the dishes while Dad took the phone, put on his coat, and stepped onto the porch for a little privacy. I tried not to stand close to the little space where our coats and boots rested—the spot between the kitchen and the front door that was much more mudroom than foyer. I wanted to know what Dad said to Wanda nearly as much as I didn’t want to know.
Nearly.
He was done in nine minutes. Odd how now that Pietr had seemed to lose his sense of timing, mine sharpened—at least when it came to the amount of time Dad and Wanda spent chatting.
He glanced from me to the empty dish rack and nodded approval. “Says the roads look pretty good. So I’ll plow. I’ll even drop you off if Max or Alexi can bring you home. Sound like a plan?”
“It sounds like an excellent plan!”
As soon as he was bundled up and out the door to plow, I got on the phone to Max, making plans for a ride home.
Marlaena
My stretch ended in a yowl and a yawn, and still fully furred, I peered over Gareth’s healed-up shoulder and toward the mouth of the cave. Gabe’s head on my hip, he twitched in his sleep, one paw flicking as he dreamed of … rabbits? Redheaded women? I slid free of them both and padded to the small opening, ducking my head to look outside.
Snowflakes skittered across the lip of the cave, and outside the world was white and thick with a fresh winter coat. Pure and beautiful.
As unstained as a virgin bride.
If I didn’t ruin it, someone else would. And I liked to leave my mark.
I trotted out and took a piss, only returning to flop down on the furry pile of my packmates after I’d fouled up perfection.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jessie
Snow fell in wet clumps, covering the roads nearly as fast as the plows kicked it out to the blacktop’s edges and spread their salt and grit behind them. Dad dropped me off in front of the Rusakovas’ large Queen Anne and watched me climb the steps to the wraparound porch and wave before entering the house.
The door—which seemed locked and unlocked randomly now—slammed shut behind me, blocking out the crisp and surprisingly cruel brush of winter’s fingers. I found myself in the foyer, surrounded by the warm scents of old woodwork and furnishings and the distinct pine forest smell that seemed to be part of the Rusakovas’ natural makeup. The pine warred with the other scents now, not as sharp and powerful but sadly muted since they’d taken the cure.
Lower lip pinched between my teeth, I knew much more than just scent had been muted by the cure’s power. It seemed all of Pietr’s personality—if it could be viewed in decibels—had its volume turned down. The intensity in his eyes, the grace in his movements, the power in his kiss …
I tried not to think of it.
Alexi greeted me and pointed up the stairs with a thrust of his chin. “He’s up there. Studying,” he added in explanation.
“Good god. What do we have to study on a snow day?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. It seems now that he studies everything.”
Everything but me. I brushed my hands over my arms and fought back a belated chill. Before, Pietr would have heard me—or smelled me—coming and been waiting at the bottom of the steps to greet me, whether with good news or bad.
But I’d become the least of Pietr’s priorities. And I was determined to change that. I knew I loved Pietr and I knew that Pietr loved me, so it only made sense—in a most logical way—that if I was smart I could somehow regain his attention. I swallowed, fighting down the idea that love and logic seldom worked together.
I am in love with a werewolf after all, a small voice in the back of my head pointed out. That defies all sorts of logic. My life, it seemed, defied logic as well.
I started toward the stairs, but Alexi’s voice stopped me. “Boots.”
“Right,” I said, seeing the slush that coated their sides and knowing their treads would be full of the stuff. Hopping, I tugged them off and dragged my socks back up so their toes no longer flopped loose thanks to the suction from my boots. Setting my boots in the nearby tray, I shrugged off my coat and left it there in the foyer, folded and resting across my boots’ tops.
Alexi merely leaned against the wall and smiled. “Hardwood floors are miserable to maintain,” he said apologetically.
“No problem,” I assured him, though I suddenly noticed the worn condition of my mismatched socks. I tugged at my jeans, getting the cuffs to settle lower. As much as I wanted to regain Pietr’s attention, I didn’t want it to be because he feared I’d gone color-blind.
Cat paused in the foyer to greet me, and Alexi’s smile became a smirk, spotting my sorry socks.
Cat caught the look.
“Do you not have something better to do than be a load-bearing structure for that wall?” Cat asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
He chuckled, but the sound didn’t reflect fully in his eyes. “And what would that be, Ekaterina?” he asked. “Worry about the dangerous antics of my werewolf siblings? Nyet. There are no werewolves in Junction, as Pietr so gladly informed Dmitri. Should I struggle with translations and formulas trying to find a cure for my siblings’ abbreviated lifestyles? Nyet. Thanks to Jessie, we have our cure.”
My stomach tossed, knowing what Alexi still did not: the truth.
Cat looked away.
“What if you paid your mother a visit?” I suggested.
“My mother is dead,” he replied, all the joy drained from his voice and expression.
“Your biological mother,” I clarified cautiously. I had the sudden feeling I was walking on eggshells. “Hazel Feldman.”