Something About Harry(56)

Where was this gig when he’d been an awkward fifteen-year-old with a retainer, Coke-bottle glasses, and only a hundred and twenty pounds at almost six feet?

But then there were the kids. How could he possibly explain something like this to them without scaring the hell out of them? He couldn’t raise his sister’s children if he was turning into something kids had nightmares about. How could he explain this eternal life deal? How would he explain that as they aged, he wouldn’t, or rather, the process would be much slower for him.

It was incomprehensible that he’d outlive the kids.

And that was the angry part of all this. If it were just him, he’d figure it out. But ending this crazy as soon as possible so the kids could return to their lives was the only way. If that meant shifting comfortably rather than having his face ripped off until he could find a way out, he was in.

“Harry?” Marty poked him in the arm, her pretty smile encouraging and warm. “We have to do this before Keegan notices I’m missing, if we hope to keep Mara out of trouble and keep you away from the rest of the pack while we do it.”

Marty had kindly offered to help Mara with his shift, her understanding of his dilemma keener than that of Mara’s. The damned trouble with these people was they were so nice. So ready and willing to stop their lives, mid-living, and help out a perfect stranger. Darnell was a demon, yet he’d offered him comfort like they’d been friends for life. Even Nina, ghastly, foul-tempered beast that she was, had held out her hand for him to grab on to. He’d been despicable concerning Carl’s existence. Regretted it the moment it had come from his lips. Hated that he’d sounded like an ass for the ages.

Yet each of them expressed their emotions, got it out, and considered it done. Like a family.

That tempted him, too. This sense of family, the solidarity they all shared. It was just he and the kids. No remaining relatives, no friends of theirs close enough to be counted on. What if something happened to him? Who would take them then? The state? The kids needed a strong home base, a soft place to fall—a network of soft places to fall—and Mara’s pack offered that.

“Harry? I need you to really focus. We don’t want to draw attention to my absence or you. So remember what I told you, okay? Just let it happen. The first time you fought it because you didn’t know what was happening. This time, you’re going to relax into it and focus on the change in your body.”

Mara stood just behind Marty, beautiful in the glow of the moonlight, hesitation and uncertainty shadowing her eyes, and he felt that fever thing she’d told him about.

For her.

Every breath she took, he smelled, savored, wanted to inhale by pressing his mouth over hers. He wanted to tear her clothes from her body, lick her from head to toe, bury his face between her legs, taste every inch of her.

It was goddamned uncomfortable, and as the moon rose while they’d eaten dinner, full, buttery soft, pulling at him like it pulled the tide, his need had become almost unbearable. Mara was the last person he wanted close because of this strange, pulsing lust, yet the only person he thought he’d die of wanting if she wasn’t near.

There weren’t really any orgies, but there was uncontrollable lust, compounded by the fact that he hadn’t grown into this were lifestyle like the others. More adjustments to be made.

Followed by more anger because he had to adjust to anything. Mara had felt the brunt of his brooding silence at dinner while he stuffed himself with a savory sirloin stroganoff, a porterhouse, and an entire pot roast lathered in rich wine gravy.

Shoving all that food down his throat only minimized this hunger Mara spoke of by a little, but it did successfully keep him from dragging her across the table and burying himself deep within her. How did all these male werewolves manage to control that, even if their lust was only half of what he was experiencing?

“Okay, Harry, here we go,” Marty said with a smile, reminding him he had to protect Mara from the others finding out. “Close your eyes. Feel the pull of the moon. Let your limbs go limp, and breathe with me. Trust me, Harry.”

He took a deep, long breath, fighting the shudder of it, hoping to relax to the sound of Marty’s instructions, when a searing lick of flames accosted his gut. He fell forward, hissing as though he’d been burned from the inside.

Marty stroked his back, her fingers, though meant to soothe, like nails on a chalkboard. “You’re fighting out of fear, Harry. It won’t be like last time if you don’t let it. Please trust me.”

He pulled more air into his lungs, forcing himself to stand erect, hearing Marty’s words become warbled and distant. Fighting to find this focus they talked about.