Cursed by Love: Wolfed, #1

ONE

I finished wiping down the bar and then walked to the back office to clock out.

See you tomorrow, Ronan. I peeked my head into my boss’ office. It was three a.m. and fatigue was pulling at my limbs. Ronan was leaning over a stack of invoices, glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he stroked his red bushy beard.

Night, lass. Be safe, he called out in his thick Irish accent.

I tapped my purse and the Walther P22 that I carried. Always am.

Ronan was a motorcycle-driving, forty-five-year-old buff dude who drank more scotch than he did water. He was like a father to me, especially considering I never knew my own father. My mom and Ronan grew up together and had known each other since kindergarten. He always checked in on our family to make sure things were okay. It was just me and my mom and our little house on Lake Pend Oreille in Sandpoint, Idaho. Sandpoint was basically a tourist stop for out-of-towners and locals coming up from Coeur d’Alene and Spokane. It had a San Diego beach vibe without all the parking issues and nineteen-dollar margaritas.

I’d started out cleaning tables at the Rusty Spoon when I was sixteen, but this January I’d turned nineteen and Ronan let me bartend.

The tips were way better.

When I stepped outside into the cool night air, I hopped on my bike and pulled up the kickstand. My mom owned the little house on the corner of Larch Street and 3 rd Ave. She’d bought it twenty years ago for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but with the hot market we were in now she could probably get half a million for the tiny two-bedroom. As if I’d ever let her sell. I wanted to be buried in that beach house.

I pedaled past McDuff’s and waved to Nik, who was just getting off his shift.

Hey, beautiful. Good tips tonight? he hollered.

Not bad! I called back as I rode by.

Nik was the bartender of McDuff’s; we flirted often but nothing ever happened. He was a manwhore and I didn’t mess with those. Even now there was a blonde waiting for him by his car. I shook my head and chuckled.

Riding past Bonner General Hospital was usually the highlight of my night. I always liked to peer inside in an attempt to see something exciting. I once saw a woman running inside with a bloody thumb in a bag. I’d always loved those ER shows; it was part of what inspired me to apply to veterinary school. I loved animals more than people and didn’t faint at the sight of blood, so becoming a vet was a given. Slowing my bike as I passed the hospital, I gazed through the windows, but other than some people sitting in the lobby with throw-up buckets, there was nothing cool.

Lame.

I was about to race on home from there when I saw a trail of blood that left the sidewalk and trickled into the woods behind the hospital. I skidded to a stop, leaving a black tire streak on the clean concrete.

The fern bushes and grasses were all mashed down as if someone had stumbled in there.

Holy crap.

Was today the day I actually saw a gunshot wound or something cool like that? Crime in Sandpoint was pretty nonexistent, and I didn’t wish harm on anyone… but what I wouldn’t give to see something really gnarly. There was probably something wrong with me that I didn’t shy away from gore. I just thought the human body was so fascinating. Biology was my favorite subject in high school, and dissecting frogs didn’t bother me one bit.

A moan came from the woods and I froze, swallowing hard as the hairs on my arms stood straight up. Okay, this just got real.

H-hello? I called into the woods, and an injured whine called back almost immediately.

Was it an animal? That got me moving. Humans were okay mostly, but animals were pure-hearted creatures that I would take my chances with over a human any day. Parking my bike at the edge of the sidewalk, I pulled out my gun and kept it loosely at my side, finger off the trigger. Even though Sandpoint was considered semi-liberal for Idaho, everyone I knew carried a gun. It was like having a cell phone, you just didn’t go anywhere without it.

Stepping off into the woods beside the hospital, I did a mental sanity check. Was I really following a trail of blood into the woods? Yes. Was this a smart thing to do? No.

Eh, I had a gun. What could go wrong?

I’m not going to hurt you, but I do have a gun in case you try to attack me, I told the dark empty woods. Human or animal, I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if my life was threatened.

That whimper came back to me and it was definitely not human. Crap. Did I really want to run up on an injured cougar right now? Bears didn’t whimper, and local hunters were usually good about tracking down their kills, but maybe one got away.

Don’t bite me or I’ll finish you off! I told the dark trees. I should probably call for help; it was three in the freaking morning and if I got attacked no one would know. But I’d left my phone in my purse, which was hanging on my bike.

The next whine came from my left and I scurried that way, scanning the ground as my eyes adjusted to the moonlight. It was full, luckily, and bright enough for me to see the⁠—

A wolf, I gasped as my gaze fell on the magnificent creature.

He was huge and grey, but the coloring was so light it was almost a silverish white which gave his fur dimension. He was panting hard, and a wound at his back leg was bleeding freely.

Shit. I stepped closer and his lips peeled back from his teeth.

I pulled out my gun and pointed it right at him and he stopped.

Smart wolf.

My mind raced a mile a minute. Did I shoot him and put him out of his misery or try to get him some help? As messed up as it sounded, it was encouraged to cull the wolf population here in Idaho. They were reducing the population of elk and deer, which was frowned upon. It was something as an animal lover I didn’t agree with.

Wolves didn’t die from leg wounds though, right? It looked like clean puncture wounds. Maybe another animal had bitten it? But the flesh wasn’t hanging off, so it could be repaired. I considered calling Dr. Gassly and seeing if he would stitch him up but dismissed the thought immediately. Gassly wouldn’t treat a wild wolf; he would probably say it had rabies.

Dammit, I growled as the situation tore at my heart. I couldn’t kill a wolf. Wolves were freaking badass. Bears too. Deer carried Lyme disease so I was totally okay busting a cap in their asses, but wolves… no. I couldn’t, wolves were like giant puppies with rage issues.

My gun was for idiot drunk male humans, not injured wolves. Beautiful wolves with golden honey eyes like this one deserved to live. I reached out and the wolf froze.

"Don’t bite me," I told him, and touched the fur on his back with my fingers. If I could just test his nature, maybe if he were docile, I could...

He snapped at me and I withdrew my hand, shoving my gun in his face. I’m trying to help you!

He looked at the gun and growled.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t the best way to get him to trust me.

Don’t be stupid, Averly, I told myself as I put the gun down in the grass.

The wolf tracked my movements and I found it odd that he was so responsive. Genius wolf.

Friendly neighborhood bartender Averly here, I told him and reached out with my free hand again.

He stilled, but let me rake my hands over his uninjured back.

Hmm. He was pretty docile when I wasn’t waving a gun at him. I wonder if you’d let me give you stitches, I mused aloud. I’ve done hundreds on a banana and I’m getting really good.

I might only be one year into my schooling but I was a quick study. He cocked his head to the side as if this interested him or he found it humorous or something. But that was stupid because wolves didn’t understand English. This wolf must have been a pet; he was way too comfortable around humans, but that might work in his favor. It was frowned upon, but I knew a few people up in Bonner’s Ferry who kept wolves as pets and bred them with dogs. Wolfdogs fetched a lot of money around here, maybe he was one of those.

I was just figuring out how I could get him to my house when leaves crunched behind me. The hackles on the back of the wolf raised into a mohawk, and his lips peeled back as a low growl rumbled in his chest.

Oh crap.

I yanked my hand back and turned, while simultaneously reaching for my gun on the grass. My eyes fell on another wolf coming right for me. He had black fur and a menacing snarl, and shock ripped through my body. The wolf sailed through the air and landed on top of me, knocking me backward and out of reach of my gun. My head cracked against something sharp and hard, and dizziness washed over me. The wolf walked over me like I was a minor inconvenience as he tried to get to the grey injured wolf behind me. There was blood on his lips and I wondered if he had been the one to attack my new grey wolf friend. An unexplainable possessive urge reached up inside of me and I lifted my leg at the last second, connecting with the black wolf’s gut and flinging him sideways. He was giant and I wasn’t that good of a kicker, so all I did was force him to awkwardly land on me.

Awesome.

Growls and snarls rang throughout the forest and the hairs on my arms stood.

My head whipped to the side and I gasped. Holy crap, there were more. An entire pack.

The black wolf leapt off of me and lunged for my new friend. I threw my arm up to punch it in the face, but instead I just inserted it into his snarling mouth. The sound of crunching bone registered before the sharp hot pain ripped through my right forearm. An ear-splitting scream tore from my throat as the wolf fully bit down on my arm. I reached up with my free hand and punched him in the side of the neck. He detached from my arm and leaped onto the grey injured wolf.

Mother fricker!

He bit me. A wild wolf bit me. Now I’ll probably get rabies. Peering out into the open forest, I saw half a dozen shadows stalking forward.

Okay, this had gone far enough.

This little furry bastard was about to cross the rainbow bridge. My love of animals only extended to ones that didn’t bite me or attack others. Rolling over, careful not to move my injured arm too much, I scooped up my gun and clutched it tightly in my left hand. Reaching over with my injured arm, I winced at the pain it caused to cock it backward.

The black wolf was tearing into the grey wolf; now I was going to have to shoot them both. One to kill the rabid psycho, the other to put the nice grey wolf out of his misery.

I stood on shaky legs and hovered over the vicious snarling creatures.

Get off of him, dog breath! I screamed, but nothing happened. The movement behind me sped up and I knew I had little time before the entire pack descended on me and ripped me to pieces.

Reaching out, I snapped my right boot forward and felt the satisfying crunch of the asshat’s ribs. The attacking wolf yelped in pain and fell to the side. Wasting no time, I relied on my gun training with Ronan and his buddies. I aimed and popped five shots off right into the wolf’s chest. He went down like a sack of bricks, limp and no longer breathing.

I had about two seconds to feel victory before the pain in my arm suddenly ratcheted up ten levels. A moan of agony escaped me and I dropped my gun. It felt like someone had just poured sriracha in my wound.

I fell to my knees before the injured grey wolf and he looked at me with those golden honey eyes. There was an intelligence there, and concern for me. His brows drew together like a human’s would. I felt bad he’d been attacked again, and that I couldn’t protect him. I didn’t want him to die like this.

I’m sorry, I huffed as blackness danced at the edges of my vision. He was going to bleed out and I was going to faint from this never-ending pain. I’d never been good with pain; admittedly I was a bit of a drama queen. I once stubbed my toe on the couch and went to urgent care, thinking it was broken. It just needed ice. But this was epic level pain. Pain that mothers must feel right before pushing out a baby; this pain was intolerable.

I wanted to die.

Howls rose up in perfect harmony throughout the forest and I prayed someone from the hospital would investigate those gunshots before this pack of wolves ate me. I still had five rounds in the gun if I could just get to it. The wolves were circling us and snarling with their lips pulled back and saliva glistening from their teeth. Me and my wolf buddy were about to become dinner.

The faster they circled, the more intense the pain became. Sweat drenched my clothes as I wailed into the night, rolling closer and closer to the grey wolf until I was tucked up against him. The moment my skin touched his fur, it was like a balm had been placed over my wound and the blackness at the edges of my mind retreated for the slightest second.

The wolves paused for a moment as well, then they stepped closer, growls and snarls ripping from their throats as they circled.

My breath came out in ragged gasps; the grey wolf panted. I panted, he whined. I wailed, my pain, his pain. For a moment, I was so delirious I didn’t know where I began and he ended. The blood from my wound dripped onto his injuries as I clung to his fur in fear.

This wasn’t how I wanted to die. This wasn’t how anyone wanted to die, but when I looked up into honey-colored eyes, a peace fell over me. At least I wasn’t alone, we were in this together and we would die together. I died protecting something—his life had value and I’d done my best to honor it.

One of the pack wolves lunged for me and the grey wolf leapt to his feet with surprising strength. Baring his teeth, he stepped over my body so that I was tucked under him in a protective gesture. He snarled at the pack circling us, and whines filled their throats one by one as they backed away, heads and tails down.

What the…?

When the grey wolf looked back down at me, his eyes were… glowing?

He licked the bite mark on my arm and then the pain reached such epic levels that it killed me. There was no way I could survive this amount of agony. Everything went black and I surely died.

TWO

Averly! Come get breakfast before my shift. My mom’s voice shredded into my sleep and woke me from the gnarliest dream I’d ever had.

The wolves. The blood. I shivered. No more horror movies. With a yawn, I rolled over in bed and winced when I felt pain in my arm.

No way, it couldn’t be⁠—

Real? I looked down at the scabbing animal bite marks on my right arm. Holy crap. That really happened. My clothes were the same I’d left the bar in, and I was covered in dried blood.

Averly? my mom called.

I flew off my bed and into my bathroom in record time. Uh, running late! Just leave me some eggs! Love you! I screamed.

When I stepped into the bathroom, I peered in the mirror and winced. I looked like hell. My long red hair was ratted on one side and a few pine needles were stuck in there as well. Dark, almost black dried blood covered my shirt and arm, and my clothes were covered in grey wolf fur.

Okay, no biggie. It was real. I walked home and stumbled inside and now I’m fine, I told the completely panicked woman in the mirror.

But it was a big deal and I couldn’t handle it alone. I needed to tell someone what happened last night. Opening the bathroom door, I spied my purse on the floor, covered in dirt. I stepped over and pulled my phone from it before scurrying back into the bathroom. I noticed the corner had crusted blood on it, and on top of that it only had ten percent battery.

Pulling up my text chain with my bestie, Leah, I shot her a message.

Averly: Get over to my house now. Porcupine.

Leah: For reals?

Averly: Porcupine!

Leah: Crap, on my way!

I’d only ever used our special 911 emergency code twice, once when Zander dumped me in seventh grade, and now. Leah would know this was not a drill and to drop everything and get over here.

I paced my bathroom for five minutes wondering if my bike was still out front and if I should go to the ER and get a rabies shot. I was three seconds from calling the sheriff to report a rabid pack of wolves when Leah banged on the bathroom door.

It’s me! she whisper-screamed.

My mom must have let her in. That, or she used the code, which she’d known since we were eight years old.

I opened the bathroom door and my bestie grabbed her mouth to stifle a scream as her gaze raked over my appearance.

I know, I whimpered.

Her eyes flicked to the crusting bite mark on my arm, and then my hair, and then all over. Were you attacked by a bear? She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

I shook my head. Close. A wolf.

Her green eyes widened. Like for real? Because I was kidding.

I gave her a closer look at my arm, which held a u-shaped bite mark with crusted red scabs.

She sucked in a breath. Coming back from work last night?

I nodded. Did you see my bike outside when you came in?

She shook her head. But I wasn’t really paying attention. You should tell your mom, get stitches and a rabies shot or something.

I winced. For some reason I didn’t want to tell anyone else. It was such a weird incident I wasn’t even sure I believed it.

Let me take a quick shower and then we can see if my bike is still there, I told her.

Leah chewed on her lip. What if it gets infected?

I remembered the grey wolf licking my wound and nodded. I’ll get antibiotic ointment.

It was already healing, which was weird. I’d have sworn by the amount of pain I was in last night that he’d bitten down to my bone. But I was a wuss when it came to pain, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought.

Ten minutes later I was clean, had rubbed an entire tube of Neosporin on my wound, and wrapped it in gauze.

A few minutes passed and I’d inhaled some scrambled eggs, grabbed my backpack for class, and Leah and I were headed out the door.

What are you doing? I peered over Leah’s shoulder because she was glued to her phone, which was very unlike her.

Leah, my beloved brown-haired five-foot-one bestest of best friends, was a conspiracy theorist. She preferred the name truther, but I was saving that title for when she actually proved to me that sasquatch were real. Leah hated technology and swore the government was spying on her. Her Twitter account had over 100K followers. That’s right, over 100,000 people believed that sasquatch were real.

I read her phone over her shoulder: What are the symptoms of rabies?

Hey! I smacked her arm.

She shrugged. Just looking out for you.

My bike wasn’t out front. I frowned, hoping it hadn’t been stolen. Maybe I was too dazed to lock it up last night. We walked the few blocks to the hospital and my heart sank when I didn’t see my bike on the path either. There was dried blood however, which reminded me of my stupid idea to run