Sleepwalker Wolf

Questions and Answers

Valery

   As I stand in my bathroom, I grip the first aid kit until my knuckles turn white. I feel like I'm losing my mind. Travis and Frankie turned into wolves. But for some reason, deep down, it doesn't feel unnatural or scary and I think that scares me the most.

   That instinctual need to keep touch Travis at every available moment still pushes at my mind. I want to cook for him, impress him, let him know I'm his best option so he'll stay with me. I also want to rub up on him like a cat in heat, make it so if any other woman gets near him, my scent will linger on his skin.

   But why?

   I decide that instead of standing here like a doofus, I need to ask Travis all these questions and get some answers. I make my way back down the hall and find Travis sitting shirtless on my couch. His once white t-shirt is stained red with blood. We'll need to throw that away.

   After I grab a rag from the kitchen and wet it, I take a seat on the coffee table in front of him. I set the kit beside me and scoot forward until I can reach him. I grab his firm jaw and twist his head so I can see his ear. I was right, a decent chunk of the top of his ear is now missing. He hisses through his clenched teeth when I press the rag to it.

   "So, you can turn into a wolf." My words come out as a statement instead of a question.

   "Yes," he agrees, watching me with those blue eyes. "So can you."

   My hand stills against his ear and my eyes lock onto his. "What?"

   "Eli told me you probably have no idea what you are and the way you fought your instincts tonight assured me. But I can smell that you're like me."

   "You mean, that dog smell?"

   A short, soft growl rumbles in his chest. "Wolf, not dog," he corrects, placing his hand over the one holding his jaw, moving it to his cheek. "It's what differentiates us from the rest of the population beyond the obvious."

   "But how do I not know?" I ask, moving to wipe the blood dripping down his chest. The metallic smell is covering up that masculine musk I still want to huff in like it's my own personal drug.

   "I don't know. You should have shifted multiple times in your life, even as a kid."

   "I haven't, otherwise I wouldn't be so surprised when you did."

   Putting down the rag, I open the first aid kit and pull out a roll of gauze and some medical tape. I unroll and cut a few pieces so I can stop the cuts from bleeding. I also pull out a bottle of isopropyl alcohol and a tube of antibiotic ointment.

   "What did you mean I was fighting my instincts?" I ask as I soak a cotton ball in alcohol.

   "I'm sure you feel it. Sometimes it's almost like a little voice in your head. Being part animal, we rely on our instincts a little more heavily. Especially during, uh," a blush rises on his cheeks again as he clears his throat, "I guess you could call it mating season."

   I squeak as I finally press the cotton ball to his chest, a little firmer than I should have. A loud growl rips from Trav's throat as he grabs my hand and pulls it from his chest.

   "Sorry. Why hasn't this happened before?"

   "It doesn't start until your twenty-first birthday, no matter the time of year. It's when you hit peak fertility and can actually start getting pregnant. It will repeat every spring after as an instinctual push to have babies," Trav continues explaining, wincing and hissing in pain every time I dab at a scratch.