9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

F ury

The cabin feels smaller today, the walls pressing in, the ceiling too low. Or maybe it's just the weight of Natalie's gaze, curious and assessing, as we go about our chores.

Are we both thinking about last night, when we shared the bed for the second time? Was she asleep or awake when I accidentally grazed her shoulder as I rolled in my sleep? Did she happen to see my cock, hard enough to chop wood, when I got up to take a piss in the composting toilet in the middle of the night? Does she know I caught a glimpse of her pert, pink nipple where her shirt was rucked up when she tossed and turned around three in the morning?

For the second morning in a row, I check all of our electronics, and for the second morning in a row, we get no signal.

Today, Natalie insists on helping, even with her bum ankle, and I don't have the heart to refuse her. There's a stubborn set to her jaw, a glint of determination in her eyes that tells me arguing would be pointless.

So we make a strange little assembly line, me chopping wood and hauling water from the well, her stacking the wood I've carried in close enough to the fire to dry. We work in comfortable silence, broken only by an occasional request or the soft yips of Shaddai as he tumbles around our feet .

It's… nice. Domestic, in a way I haven't experienced in longer than I can remember. And that's the problem, isn't it? This feeling, this warmth, is dangerous. It makes me want things I have no business wanting. Things I can't have, shouldn't even dream of.

Like the way Natalie's sun-bleached brown hair falls across her cheeks as she bends over to refill the bag for the indoor solar shower, the tip of her tongue poking out in concentration. Or the sound of her laugh when Shaddai gets overexcited and faceplants into a pile of blankets.

Each glimpse, each moment, is a cruel reminder of what I've lost. What was taken from me. And what I can never allow myself to have. My ability to trust wasn't just broken, it was damaged beyond repair, irreparable.

"Fury? You okay?" Natalie's voice, laced with concern, jolts me out of my brooding. The expression on my face must have been more irritated than usual if she felt the need to inquire about it.

A wry grin twists my lips. "Just peachy. Always dreamed of being snowed in with a busted human and a mangy pup."

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. "Wow, don't strain yourself with all that charm." But her eyes are soft, knowing. She sees too much, this woman.

Desperate for a distraction, I cast about for something, anything, to change the subject. My gaze lands on a deck of cards peeking out between two books on the bookshelf. Bingo.

"You play poker, Buttercup?" I challenge, snagging the deck and waving it enticingly.

Her brows shoot up, surprise and interest warring on her face. "You sure you want to open that can of worms, wolven? I'll have you know I'm a card shark."

I flash her a fang-filled grin, already shuffling the deck. "Big talk. Let's see if you can back it up. Some days, there's not much to do at the Wolven Warriors' HQ. Poker and Gin Rummy are where it's at. "

And just like that, the tension breaks, all my ghosts receding to the corners. We while away the afternoon trading barbs and bluffs, the pot growing with an oddball assortment of trinkets (all hers except the hunting knife from my boot is now on the table), and IOUs of promised chores on scraps of paper. I'll be damned if I'm going to lose to a human.

But Natalie gives as good as she gets, her tells inscrutable, her bets bold. More than once, I catch myself staring at her over my cards, trying to unravel the mystery of who she is.

She meets my gaze head-on, a challenge and an invitation in the quirk of her lips. And damn if that doesn't make my claws itch and my blood heat in a way that has nothing to do with the game.

As the light outside fades and the tally marks tip in Natalie's favor, she sits back with a smug grin, fanning herself with her cards.

"You sure you're ready for this last game, Fury? I'd hate to wound your delicate pride."

A surprised bark of laughter escapes me. "Oh, it's like that, is it? There's nothing delicate about me. Alright, woman. Loser has to do all the dishes for the rest of the time we're stuck here."

She gasps. "With the way the sky's darkening and the odds that it's going to snow again, that's an enormous bet."

The silence spans for long moments as we both silently acknowledge why it's enormous. We might be here for days. Together. In this tiny cabin. With no chaperone except an adorable pup more interested in eating and sleeping than keeping us from acting on the heat that's simmering between us.

Tally narrows her eyes at me, considering. Then, with a decisive nod, she picks up the deck and shuffles.

"It's a deal."

In the end, it's a bloodbath. I don't know how she does it, but she cleans me out handily, crowing with victory as she calls out "Gin" for the last time .

"Better get scrubbing, wolven," she taunts, her smile wide and wicked. "Those dishes won't wash themselves."

I grumble and growl, but a deal's a deal. As I stand to grab the pot out of the hearth, Natalie's fingers close around my wrist, startling me.

"Hey," she says, her expression sobering. "Thanks. For this. For…" She waves a hand, encompassing the cabin, the cards, the strange little bubble of warmth we've created here. "Everything."

My throat goes tight, my chest aching with things I don't dare name. I manage a nod, my voice gruff. "Anytime, Buttercup."

And I mean it, Goddess help me. I'd lose a thousand hands of Gin Rummy, wash a million dishes, if it kept that soft smile on her face.

Later, as darkness falls and the blazing fire creates light and warmth, we're sitting on the loveseat, both of us reading a book from her shelf. I'm reading Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein. She's reading a dog-eared romance novel that looks as though it's been here since the cabin was built. Shaddai is snoring softly at my feet. The peace is a fragile, tenuous thing, but some need in my soul compels me to guard it fiercely.

"What was it like?" Natalie asks suddenly, her face gilded in the flickering light. "Your homeworld? An'Wa?"

The question catches me off guard, memories rising unbidden. Green hills and crystal streams, the scent of sweet grass, and the music of the rushing falls. The warm weight of my sister pressed against my side as we gazed up at the star-strewn sky.

"It was…" I swallow hard, the words thick on my tongue. "Beautiful. Wild and free, untouched by…" I gesture grandly, assured that Tally knows I'm pointing toward L.A., toward millions of people and electric lights and gas-belching vehicles. "My people, the wolven, we lived in harmony with the land. With the moons and the Goddess and the cycle of the seasons. "

I'm saying too much, the old ache rising in my chest. But Natalie is watching me with such open understanding, such compassion, that I can't stem the tide of words spilling from my lips.

"We were happy there," I continue hoarsely. "My pack, my family. We lived simply but well. Until…"

"Until the Rift opened up and tore you away," she finishes softly.

I nod, old rage and sorrow warring in my gut. "It came out of nowhere. One moment, I was at the Gathering of Clans, surrounded by my people. The next…"

My breath shudders out, the memory sharp and cruel. The searing pain of the unknown force wrapping around me, dragging me into a vortex. The screams of my packmates, the howls of wolven, orcs, and minotaurs. From that moment we weren't different species who sometimes bickered with each other. We all blended into one entity—Others. I'm bombarded by the memory of the terror and confusion and the wrenching loss.

"It was like an invisible hand, an iron grip," I grit out. "It yanked me away from everything I knew, everyone I loved. And when it finally released me…"

"Into the Mojave," Natalie breathes, her eyes wide, her lips tight, as her gaze skitters from mine.

I nod, the old helpless fury rising, choking me. "We were lost, terrified. Torn from our homes and spat out into that endless, blistering wasteland."

My hands fist on my knees, claws digging into my palms. The pain is grounding, focusing me. "And then the human soldiers came. With their guns and their fences and their…"

I can't finish, the words lodging in my throat like shards of glass. The memories are still too raw, too close to the surface. Dr. Smith's experiments, the cruelty, the casual disregard for our suffering .

Natalie makes a small, wounded sound, her hand flying to her mouth. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, horror, sorrow, and something fiercer, hotter, swirling in their depths.

"Fury, I'm so…" She shakes her head, at a loss for words. "I don't even know what to say. It's unimaginable what you went through, what you lost. I'm so sorry."

And the thing is, I believe her. This human, with her soft hands and her steel backbone, she feels it, the injustice, the tragedy of it all. It eases something in me, just a fraction. The word "sorry" is sincere on her lips.

I shrug, trying for nonchalance and falling far short. "It is what it is. Can't change the past."

But I can work for a better future, or so the shamans in the Zone say. It's why I joined the Warriors. It's how I make sense of my life in a world that hates and fears my kind. To protect those who can't protect themselves. To prevent any more needless suffering.

And maybe to find some measure of peace for myself. Though that seems more distant than ever now.

Natalie is still watching me, her gaze deep and searching. I can practically see the questions whirling behind her eyes, the desire to know more, to understand, to ask questions she has no right to ask.

But mercifully, she doesn't push. Instead, she reaches out and lays her hand over mine where it rests on the loveseat between us.

"Thank you," she murmurs, her fingers warm against my skin. "For sharing that with me. I know it wasn't easy."

I twitch a shoulder, discomfort and something dangerously close to affection rising in my chest. "Yeah, well. Don't read too much into it. I'm just bored, and you're the only one here."

It's a lie and we both know it. But Natalie, Goddess bless her, just smiles, letting me protect my flimsy ego .

"Of course," she agrees gravely. "And here I thought we were having a moment."

Despite myself, I feel my lips twitch, a rusty chuckle escaping. "In your dreams, scientist."

She laughs, the sound bright and startled. And just like that, the mood shifts, the ghosts of the past receding once more.

We sit like that for a long while, her hand on mine, the silence comfortable and easy. It's the most peace I've felt in longer than I can remember. And that's…terrifying, really.

Because I'm starting to forget why I need to keep her at arm's length. Why I can't let myself feel whatever this is that's growing between us.

The brush of soft fur against my leg startles me from my thoughts. I glance down to see Shaddai climbing into Natalie's lap, his little tail wagging. She coos to him, scooping him up and cuddling him close.

And damn if that isn't a sight to make my old, withered heart clench. The two of them, the most unlikely of companions, cuddling as though they belong together.

It's too much, the domesticity of it all. The easy affection and the unspoken promises. I can't let myself get used to this, can't let myself hope for anything more than shared chores and games of Gin Rummy.

Abruptly, I stand, which causes the chain reaction of Tally shifting, which dislodges Shaddai. He yips in protest, but Natalie just watches me, her eyes knowing and sad.

"I'm going to take someone out to do his business, Shaddai, too." Patiently, I wait until she obliges me by smiling at my shitty joke. "I'll bank the fire and then… we should sleep," I rasp, suddenly desperate to put some distance between us. "I should go hunting again tomorrow if this storm doesn't let up. "

Natalie nods, her smile a touch too understanding. "Good idea. I'm tired and my ankle is throbbing. I'll probably be asleep before you return."

We both know that's a big, fat lie, that no one could fall asleep that fast, but it's a good ruse. It will obliterate that awkward falling asleep moment when I'm focused on only one thing—the half-naked woman sharing our small bed.

"Fine. I'll take my time."

I walk Shaddai, who waits to do his business until we're far enough from the cabin that he proves he's a good guest. I do my business, too. Funny, I'd forgotten the simple joy of using the great outdoors instead of manmade plumbing. Goddess knows, there's not much in the tiny cabin bathroom, just a composting toilet and a primitive solar shower.

As I return to the cabin, I have a swift, honest, heart-to-heart with myself. I'm a gruff asshole, have been since those fucking scientists treated me like a lab rat, worse than a lab rat. Lab rats aren't tortured for sport.

I've been rattling around the Integration Zone for decades, just waiting for the Goddess to take me, although since I've been with the Wolven Warriors, at least I feel there's a reason I'm sucking air on planet Earth.

But these last few days with Tally? They've changed me. Or maybe they just reminded me of who I really am beneath this crust of anger and rebellion.

This is dangerous because if I'm not careful, I could see myself falling for this woman, this stubborn, brilliant, compassionate human who looks at me and sees not a monster, but a male. A person.

An equal.

And that way lies madness. Heartbreak. Disaster of the most exquisite kind .

So I'll do the only thing I can. I'll crawl into that bed, turn my back to her, and order myself to sleep. To forget, just for a little while, the warmth of her hand and the light in her eyes and the sweet rightness of her presence in this space.

The last thing I need is what I'm greeted with when I open the door.