CHAPTER TWENTY

Jessie

I found Pietr out back a few minutes later, working slowly through some sort of kata—part martial arts, part dance. He flowed more than moved through each strike and kick, testing his balance, working to perfect control of his body. Watching him, I nearly forgot my purpose for being there, but he spotted me during a sudden turn, kick, and punch combination and paused.

Da?” he said, raising one eyebrow at me.

I clapped my hands together twice and called, “Time to alpha up!”

He stalked to the stairs and looked up at me.

“You’re needed inside. Now. My dad should be pulling up with Annabelle Lee any minute.”

His head tilted, gaze questioning.

I put my hands on my hips. “You’re gonna have to show her”—I glanced around the yard; how likely was it a neighbor might overhear and if they did, was anything really still weird in Junction?—“your stuff.”

He snorted.

I sucked my teeth in exasperation. “Not that stuff. Who am I talking to? Pietr or Max?”

He climbed the stairs to stand beside me. I pulled in a quick whiff of Pietr—slightly damp from working out—and was suddenly not thinking clearly.

“Do you want me to—” Pietr moved his hands in a quick flourish, miming taking off his clothes.

I started to nod before I remembered what I was agreeing to. “Uhm. No.” I shook my head firmly, trying to toss the image of Pietr—naked—from my head. “Annabelle Lee,” I recalled. Focus, Jess. “She’s twelve. No need to see all that. If you want to show her in a less naked way, that’s fine.”

He peered at me.

“Like, do the wolf-head thing, or make hands into paws. But nothing that requires stripping south of the equator.”

Inside, Alexi laughed all the way out the door and onto the porch.

Pietr and I blushed in matching tones and headed inside to tell my little sister that the boy I was dating—the boy who had helped us find her when we got briefly separated at the fair months ago—was a werewolf.

My normal.

Jessie

“Okay,” Annabelle Lee pouted. “I don’t get this. Why can’t I stay at home tonight? With Dad and my books?”

“Well, there’s a lot of crazy stuff going on,” I started to explain.

“Dad already said that. Cut to the chase. He said you had something I need to see to believe.”

I nodded. “What else did Dad say?”

“That even seeing isn’t always believing. And that everything’s been turned upside down because of your connection to the Rusakovas.”

Pietr blanched.

I squeezed his hand. “You’re on.”

“It is because of us,” he agreed sadly. “We have a strange history—”

“Oh, holy crap.” I pushed Pietr aside and looked at my little sister. “You wanna cut to the chase?”

She nodded.

“Great. Pietr and Max are genetically engineered werewolves, the result of Cold War experimentation. Cat was one, too, but my blood—like your blood, probably—is a key component in the cure. Alexi’s adopted.” I waved a hand in the air. “Okay so far?”

Annabelle Lee nodded her head and then changed direction with it: No.

“Hang in there another minute,” I said. “Some company that may or may not be potentially affiliated with the CIA wants the werewolves to be their dog soldiers. The Russian Mafia wants them, too, for some scheme to eventually overthrow the government of Russia. I know, I know. It sounds like some crazy plot cooked up by a housewife-turned-author. But that saying Truth is stranger than fiction? Dead-on. And, because we can stop the werewolves from being werewolves, both groups would like us dead.”

Annabelle Lee blinked at me. “This is unbelievable.” She looked at her backpack, pillow, and stuffed rabbit on the floor nearby. “I’m not an idiot. I know what’s really going on here.”

“Ohhh-kayyy. Fill me in.”

“Dad and Wanda want to have one night together without prying eyes and my judgmental attitude,” she placed the words in air quotes with her fingers before returning her hands to where they’d rested before, arms crossed.

“Wow.”

“I’m not so young that I don’t know what goes on between a man and a woman,” she announced. “I know.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“They teach sex ed in sixth grade. Not that it kept Susie Harrolsen from getting knocked up in seventh.”

I blinked. “Pietr,” I said. “Strip. Now.”

He stared at me, surprised by my sudden change of attitude.

“If my darling sister believes she’s so worldly that she understands all the stuff that goes on between a man and a woman—and supposes that stuff goes on between our father and Wanda … Well then—we might as well give her the full monty.”

Pietr began to peel out of his clothes, T-shirt first, and Annabelle Lee began to blush.

Pietr’s hands moved to his jeans, watching me all the time.

Annabelle Lee gasped, hands flying to cover her eyes.

I stopped Pietr before he’d even unbuttoned and leaned over to tug my little sister’s hands away from her face. “Don’t pull that I’m old enough to handle anything crap with me,” I warned her softly. “I want you to stay young as long as possible. So pardon me for calling your bluff. Thank you, Pietr. Back to plan A.”

Pietr’s eyes began to glow and Annabelle Lee’s mouth and eyes began to widen as the sounds of joints moving and slipping and bones shifting began and Pietr’s face stretched and distorted into the wolf’s heavy head.

Annabelle Lee screamed and Pietr changed back, blinking to clear his vision.

I brushed his arm as I went around the table and grabbed Annabelle Lee. “See,” I soothed her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “It’s Pietr. Just Pietr.”

The shock on her face shamed Pietr so much he looked away. “He’s a monster…?”

The word stung.

“No. He’s no monster. He’s a werewolf. An oborot. But more than that, he’s Pietr. Just Pietr.” I stroked her hair. “Sometimes he changes, and wears a beautiful wolfskin and prowls the night. But he’s always Pietr. My Pietr.”

He looked at me, bashful and thankful all at once, eyes filled with a loyalty I’d never thought I’d have from anyone.

“Isn’t he amazing?” I whispered, my eyes holding his a moment.

Annabelle Lee nodded, mute with wonder. “Pietr,” she agreed, finally finding her voice, “you are amazing.” Her face grew briefly serious. “Do it again!” she commanded, clapping her hands together.

And he did, laughing at her eager acceptance.

My alpha.

Jessie

I finally stopped the strange new sensation that seemed to be the “My Boyfriend’s a Werewolf” show. Pietr had done hands to paws, stopping at the freaky in-between stage, wolf’s head, wolfman face.… An entire repertoire. And Annabelle Lee had marveled at him the whole time.

I didn’t want to take this away from Pietr—the fact that being what he was was truly remarkable, but deep in my gut a new worry gnawed. What if being accepted for this special part of him gave him one more reason to hesitate about taking the cure? If he could be loved as the oborot he was born to be—no matter how briefly—could that be enough for him to decide a short life of truth was better than a long one denying your roots?

“Okay, that’s enough,” I announced.

Annabelle Lee hugged Pietr tightly and confessed, “That was waaay cooler than the last gothic novel I read! Oh.” She turned to me and dug something out of her pocket. “The lawyer got back the stuff they took from you at check-in. Here.”

She held Mom’s netsuke rabbit pendant out to me.

I hugged her so tightly she squirmed to catch her breath.

Putting the pendant on, I took her downstairs, said good night, and wondered briefly if her first instinct about Dad and Wanda might be accurate. I shuddered at the thought. Not because I didn’t want Dad happy—I did—but because it was Wanda: weird, dangerous, woman-with-a-past-I-didn’t-know-yet Wanda.

As much as everyone kept trying to protect me and one another, I was also doing my best to protect them.

Climbing the stairs again with my eulogy notes in my hands, I realized that although I was already in love with Pietr, thinking about everything his family had said about his past and the way he so willingly showed my sister what he was in order to help my family—I fell in love all over again that night.

And I fell hard.

There’d been enough time for thinking and research. I needed to be able to better help protect the people I loved.

Alexi

When I heard the knock at my bedroom door I didn’t expect to find Jessie. She stood in the hall, hands on her hips, back straight and chin held high; everything about her body language told me I would not be allowed to refuse her coming request.

“I need your help with something.” Her words were as firm as her stance.

“What is it?”

“I need you to teach me some moves. Fighting.”

“I’m no expert. You’ll have a gun. Or three,” I added, smiling.

“I could be disarmed.”

I opened my mouth to argue.

“Even if I keep a relaxed grip.” She finished the thought I was only readying to say. “Guns jam, too. And run out of ammo. But bodies…” Her eyes grew unfocused and I wondered if she was thinking of how far Pietr had pushed his own body to keep her from the asylum. “Bodies only give out near the end.”

I nodded, noting the grim design of her expression and the determined set of her jaw. “Ask Pietr or Max to teach you. They were always faster and more agile. Even Cat’s an option.”

“I don’t want to accidentally telegraph what Pietr can do by seeing him in action too much. And Cat? I think I’d frustrate her. Max bulls his way through a fight. His methods require more bulk and a Hulk-like power. But you … you can teach the skills to a simple human because you’ve always been a simple human. And yet—you were a believable oborot when it mattered.” She winked at me. “You got skills.”

I looked her up and down, considering. She certainly wasn’t some frail flower that couldn’t handle a little training. She was strong from moving hay and sacks of grain and was agile from competitive horseback riding. She had a sharp focus when it was needed—that was the only way one succeeded at competition shooting.

“If I’m going to teach you anything, I’m going to teach it my way. And only the skills I think will work to your advantage.”

She smiled. “I’m totally cool with fighting dirty, if it helps us out.”

I stood. “That’s my girl.”

“Desperate times,” she said, following me outside.

I grinned. “Desperate measures,” I agreed, only waiting until her sneakers touched the grass of the backyard before I lunged at her.

“Crap!” she blurted as I took her to the ground.

Peeling myself off her, I knelt over her legs and peered down at her, catching my breath as she got hers. “First lesson? Expect the unexpected.”

She nodded and her knee slid up to tap my groin as her lips stretched into a smile. “Second lesson?”

I grimaced at the threat. “Be aware of your opponent’s weak points. Nice,” I congratulated her, rolling up into a standing position. I reached a hand down to her.

I tugged her up to her feet, spun us a half step to narrow her stance, and took her down again, sweeping her feet out from under her and this time straddling her chest. “Third? Never trust anyone in a fight.”

I popped off of her and she snared my foot and yanked me down, my ass hitting the ground. “Okay, okay.” I laughed. “Time out. We could grapple for hours and you would learn very little other than basic reactions.” Taking a breath, I coughed. Damn cigarettes.

Jessie climbed to her feet and shook out her knee. “Fine. Tell me how to keep my feet under me.”

Da. Good. We’ll start with that. Widen your stance—feet shoulder-width apart.”

“Like target shooting,” she realized.

“Good, good. Now bend your knees slightly and lower your center of gravity.…”

Jessie

“I need you to read this, O, editor,” Pietr whispered, coming up behind me in the sitting room on silent feet.

I turned to face him, my hands still damp from washing up after training with Alexi. I was stiff. Tired.

Probably bruised. But I knew a few more things than I had known before, so I chalked the experience up as a win.

I took the paper he offered without looking at him. That close to Pietr there was never anything I wanted to see but him. “What am I looking for?” I asked, shifting into editor mode. “Spelling, facts? Voice? Flow?”

“Accuracy.”

“Accuracy, I can do,” I promised, thinking of one hit I’d surprised Alexi with.

He leaned forward and plucked something out of my hair. “What—?” He held the dead leaf before me.

“Must have gotten that rolling around with Alexi in the backyard.” I blinked and looked at him. “That sounded so wrong.”

He nodded, eyebrow quirked. Waiting.

“I’m trying to learn a few things from your more experienced brother so I’m ready for our big event.”

His expression didn’t change.

“Yee-ahhh. Not any better, huh?” I laughed. Our big event could mean two vastly different things to Pietr. “Lemme just run through the other ways I could get this wrong: Alexi’s teaching me some moves. He’s trying to put the hurt on me. He was putting me into some positions I’ve never tried before.…” I snorted. I couldn’t help myself.

A muscle near Pietr’s left eye twitched.

“He’s teaching me to fight!” I laughed, grabbing his wrists.

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “You,” he whispered. “A school newspaper editor.”

“Hey, buddy.” I grinned. “Editing means we get time to improve the words. We’re allowed to be pretty rough originally.”

He smiled, kissed my forehead, and slipped away, leaving me with the paper.

“‘A Eulogy for Jess Gillmansen,’” I read the title aloud. Oh. Our psychology project. I flopped down in the love seat, pulling my knees up under me.

Jess Gillmansen led a life spent enriching others’ lives. Friend to strays and monsters, she accepted everyone with gracious abandon and loved them well beyond what they ever deserved or dreamed. A true friend and fierce forgiver, she pulled the man in me out to face down the monster I feared and helped make me the best bits of what I am. I would follow her to Hell and back if only to protect her and let her know how much she’s loved. Now and forever.

My hand shook as I set the paper on my knees. “Pietr?”

And he was there, eyes dark with worry. “I—”

“Don’t you dare try and apologize. It’s perfect—better than I could’ve expected. You give me a lot of credit.”

He stared at the floor marking the distance between us and I reached out to take his hand. “You deserve it.”

“Although you made me go into research mode on your childhood and it appears you wussed out and went all sentimental on mine.”

“I wanted to get it finished before…”

He didn’t have to say it. I knew. Before the big fight. Tie up any loose ends, say whatever needed to be said, because who knew what the outcome would be?

“It’s going to turn out fine.” I tugged him over to the love seat and, pulling him down beside me, curled up against him and drifted off.

Until I heard the chair in the corner shift, I didn’t realize that I’d been moved. I woke up, a soft pillow beneath my head and the scent of Pietr—everywhere. I sat up and, blinking to clear my vision, found him sitting in the chair in the corner, watching me.

He cleared his throat. “I thought…” His eyes narrowed. “… since Annabelle Lee’s in your bed…”

“I should be in yours?”

He shrugged one shoulder, noncommittal, but his expression was decidedly guilty. “Tomorrow everything will change, no matter what happens tonight.”

I didn’t know how to respond. “Is the mirror new?” I asked, looking at the long oval mirror framed with dark cherry wood. I didn’t remember seeing it before, but I seldom remembered much after I’d been alone in a room with Pietr.

“Something Cat gave me. She insists I look at myself as part of accepting who I am. It’s lame.”

I laughed, and, catching my reflection in the mirror with just a bit of his, an idea came to me. I slipped off the edge of the bed. My bare feet touched down on the wooden floor and I padded over to him, my brooding, silent Pietr. Pietr with so much pain and heat and hope in his eyes. So confused, so torn, so beautiful.

“You’re thinking too much.”

“Everything depends on my plan working. I can’t stop thinking about it—running scenarios through my head.”

“Come here,” I commanded, my words as strong as the pounding in my chest.

One step was all it took and he was standing before me, casting me in his shadow. “Distract me, Jess,” he begged. His hand trailed down the side of my face, fingers sweeping aside my hair and dropping to my shoulder.

I held his hand there a moment, moved it down, and over slightly so it rested on my heart.

“Look at us,” I whispered, turning my face as I reached to turn his to the long antique mirror that stood beside us. “Focus on us. Now.”

He did, his eyes sparking as he was mesmerized by the image of his hand on my chest. His fingers twitched, reaching for the buttons on my shirt, his eyes on my eyes, watching us in the mirror. He fumbled a moment with a button and then carefully opened it, separating the two sections of fabric as far as he could and tracing a tantalizing line along the neckline of my shirt until his finger brushed against the next button.

In the mirror I watched his hand on me, watched him catch my mirror image’s gaze and ask a silent question.

I nodded and he undid the next button. It was agonizingly slow, this tentative torture, and I finally shook his hands off and undid the next three buttons quickly with trembling fingers.

He pushed my shirt down, baring my shoulder, and looked away from the mirror, focused with a devastating intensity on me. Something inside of me loosened, heated under that look, and I lifted his shirt, pulling it up and over him, off of his head, but stopping before I slid it free and loosed his hands. Instead, I brought his hands down, the T-shirt still binding them and held in my closed fist. I stood on tiptoes to kiss along his jaw and he growled, hands flexing against my hip, eager to touch me again.

Nyet.” I nipped at his neck.

When he said my name it came out strangled, his voice breaking the word into two syllables.

And then I heard the sound of cloth tearing and his hands were free—his shredded T-shirt falling to the ground. “I liked that one,” I mused.

He snarled and the remaining buttons on my shirt popped off like shots fired one after the other as he tugged my shirt all the way off, letting it crumple on the floor like a puddle of fabric around my feet. “I liked that one, too.”

“Shut up, Jess,” he whispered, and he bent his powerful legs and lifted me up, his hands sliding across my back and clutching me to him while he kissed me quiet. One of his hands reached behind my left leg and dragged it around so it wrapped his waist. He adjusted his grip with a grunt and did the same thing with my other leg.

His face buried in the curve of my neck, I heard him draw in a deep and ragged breath. “You’re beautiful,” he confessed, his breathing shallow. Pressed so tightly to him I felt his heart racing into my stomach—a mind-numbing sensation.

He set me down on the bed and, propping himself above me, he searched my face for an answer to the question we both kept arriving at.

“Yes—da,” I whispered, and he groaned. “Pocelujte menyah,” I commanded.

And he filled my ears with his trembling confession: “Yah tebyah lyewblyew, Jess.”

Yah tebyah lyewblyew, Pietr Andreiovich Rusakova,” I replied, peppering his face with kisses.

His pants fell in a heap by the bedside and his nightstand drawer opened and closed with a squeak. I heard the rustle of a foil packet and my eyes popped open a moment, realizing this was it. Then Pietr’s mouth was on mine and we rolled under the covers.

For a while the world fell away and there was only me and Pietr. And a fire that burned in us both as bright as a wolf’s eyes at midnight.

Jessie

It was still dark outside when I untangled myself from the sheets and sat up in the bed, carefully moving toward its foot so I didn’t wake Pietr. Focusing on the mirror, I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to straighten it. I turned my face from side to side, examining my image. Did I look any different?

I felt different. A little sore, and a lot nervous. A bit guilty. Yeah. Definitely guilty. I’d never imagined myself here, sleeping with a guy I’d only met a few months earlier. I wasn’t even eighteen. My eyes settled on Pietr’s sleeping form. What had we done? How would it change things between us? I swallowed hard. What if …

What if Pietr had been right and we didn’t really know enough about each other?

The mattress squeaked and Pietr reached out in his sleep. “Jess,” he rumbled, his fingers prowling my empty side of the bed. “Jess?” He sat up suddenly, blinking. “Oh.” His brow wrinkled as he focused on me. “What are you doing there?”

“Thinking.”

A smile slid across his lips. “Liar. You’re worrying,” he corrected. “Quit that. Come here.”

I nodded and flopped down beside him.

“Better,” he said, his hand walking along my arm.

“This”—I looked at him meaningfully—“changes everything.”

Da. It does,” he agreed, and he pulled me into his arms and fell asleep again, his forehead hot against mine.