6

She flushed and avoided his eyes. She muttered a curse.

He raised a brow. “If that was meant to remain private, it didn’t. My ears are as sharp as yours.” Ignoring her evil look, he said, “This is what I’m offering: a new home, a new world and a family who loves you. All I want in return is your willing cooperation. Be pleasant. Try not to view us as the enemy.”

“And you’ll let me talk to Jasmine?”

“I will.”

“And you won’t hurt her?”

“I won’t, though it’s not a promising beginning that you would have to ask.”

She looked at him hard. “I don’t know you.”

“But you will try to keep your promise?”

“I will keep my promise.”

“Thank you. When did you expect her?”

She had to give him credit; Jayems didn’t push. Other than insisting on calling her Rihlia, he was pleasant. He didn’t crowd her or try to touch her as he took her on a tour of the Citadel. He didn’t comment when she looked at the guards with wild eyes, nor did he try to comfort her.

He treated the guards with indifference unless he dealt with one directly. Those interactions were matter of fact, with various degrees of familiarity depending on who it was, not that she could tell what was said. All those who were changed used sign language, a fact she took keen note of.

“Why can’t they speak when they’re a werewolf? Is it part of the curse?” she finally asked.

“It’s not a curse,” he said with frown, as if she were talking about the ability to walk. “It’s part of who we are. Being unable to talk is just another part of the change, like being fast and strong. We also can’t mate, for that matter, and we’re a little color blind.”

“I never noticed,” she muttered.

He looked at her speculatively. “How often do you change?”

Darkness filled her eyes. “Twice, I think. Maybe three times, when I was really little. Whenever I couldn’t help it.”

“Couldn’t help it? When you say three times, do you mean you change three times a month?”

“In my life.” Her mouth was a flat, grim line.

He stopped walking. “You only changed three times in your life.” He stared at her as if she’d just announced that she had a third eye hidden under her hair.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah,” she admitted, shamed to remember the times she’d lost control. She’d worn sunglasses everywhere when she was a teen, trying to shield her eyes. They’d been banned in class, of course, so she’d perfected the art of blanking out in school. Her peers thought she was a perfect freak. Thinking back, she couldn’t believe even Jasmine had befriended her, unless it was because Jas was even lonelier than she’d been.

“How did you…” He seemed to be searching for a neutral phrase. “How do you bleed off the hormones, then?”

“Hormones?”

He looked at the sky, then around at the trees. They’d stopped just shy of the exit to a courtyard. “The emotions and needs that build up when you can’t or won’t change. We’re not like humans, we have a physiological and psychological need to change at times, or we grow sick. It’s the way we’re designed. How did you manage?”

Seeing they were close to a bench, she crossed the grass and sat under a shady tree. She fixed her sight back on the gray Citadel walls and tried not to think. “I signed up for every sport known to man. I drank, smoked, got stoned and made out. Eventually I gave up the drugs and the booze since they made me more likely to lose control.

“After that I just exercised until I dropped and had a string of boyfriends. After a while I gave up on that; too much frustration. I could never complete…” She trailed off with a glance at him. “Mostly I had nightmares.”

A shiver ran through her, thinking of those. Some nights she awoke with hairs all over the bed and clawed sheets. In the orphanage she’d learned to sleep with the sheets over her head no matter how hot it got. As an adult she’d had a lock on her door.

The nuns at the orphanage had thought she was possessed. She still remembered them crossing themselves against her.

He took a deep, slow breath. “Now that you’re here, it’s safe to change. You no longer have to suffer.”

She just looked at him.

A muscle flexed in his cheek. “You will change, in your room if you must. I don’t want you getting sick.”

She looked back at the walls, tuning him out.

Jayems squatted down in front of her and looked her in the eyes. His were hard and glowing gold with emotion. “You are not a monster. You have needs. Now I know what you went through, I’d be shot before I ever let you go back.” His tone was quiet and final.

Fear froze her to the bench; he looked like her nightmares.

He drew another slow breath, and gradually his eyes darkened to normal. He blinked and seemed to regain control. “Come. I wanted to show you our kitchens.”

Careful not to upset him again, she walked at his side, keeping a measured distance between them. Not friendly, but not too rude. She didn’t want to see those eyes again.

To her surprise, there was a man holding a leashed animal outside the kitchens. About the size of a pig, it had a body similar to a kangaroo/deer hybrid with hoofed feet. The head had a distinctly jackrabbit look about it, and the ears were long. The body was dull brown with white markings on its legs, belly and tiny, tufted tail.

“This is a deerhare,” Jayems explained. “You know him better as sausage.”

She grimaced as the handler led the animal away. “Ugh! Do you always introduce your guests to their breakfast?”

“Only when they think we’re serving infant,” he said dryly, opening the kitchen door for her.