Perigee

"Here," she said.

He parked the Volvo on the edge of the gravel road and got out. By the time she opened the door, he had the rear liftgate open and was hauling the body out, pulling the corners of the blanket she had made him wrap it in. There had been so little left of Wayne that he was easy to carry, like a bundle of kindling. Nick dipped his head and sighed.

Her footsteps were sure on the gravel slope that led to the clearing. He could see her slender ankles below the hem of her long coat, reminding him of the deer. She was just ahead of him, moving swiftly toward the tree. Nick felt his mouth twisting in a mirthless smile, and his stomach growled again. As he made his way down from the road, shifting his weight beneath Wayne as he lowered himself onto the snow, he kept his eye on her.

They were far from any streetlights, but the moon had risen, bright as daylight, huge in the sky above them. It felt close enough to touch. The crust of ice broke beneath Nick's feet, making a crunch like the splintering of bones. His mouth watered, and his fist tightened on the shovel. The cold air filled his lungs, restoring him.

She stopped, pointing at the ground next to her. He closed the distance between them, looking down at the glistening coat of ice beneath her. No footprints there but his. He thrust the shovel into the ground like a spear, staring at her as he did, and then he eased the bundle onto the ground, carefully, as if it were filled with something precious, something that would break. He put his hands into the small of his back and stretched, chasing away the remnants of dull pain.

Turning his back to her, he stabbed the brutal ground with the shovel and turned snow and ice over. He could make it give, he knew. The shovel would break before he did. But she didn't know that. She knew he was strong for a derelict, stronger than his slim build made him look. She knew what would arouse him and how to draw him and the depth of his hunger and rage. But she didn't know everything.

He bit back another smile and attacked the ground again, the shovel making a ringing sound on the frozen earth. The hair on the back of his neck slowly rose, and his breathing went shallow. He felt as if he were about to jump out of his skin, his muscles twitching, his bones wanting to shift. Oh, it felt good. Why had he tried for so long to drown this with alcohol?

He watched his shadow on the ice. Hers was next to it, but shorter. He placed her at maybe four or five feet away.

He turned his face up to the sky, closing his eyes, letting the moonlight bathe him. He took a deep breath, letting it expand his chest. It came out on a moan.

He shouldered out of his coat and placed it over the body with reverence. Then he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it onto the ground, too. He went back to the shovel, glancing at her over his bare shoulder. She hadn't moved, those eyes still glowing from inside the coat. He stabbed the ground again with the shovel, turning over flakes of dark earth, glistening with ice.

Nick wondered how many more of these graves surrounded the withered tree. It thrust up from the snowy ground like a skeletal hand, its bony fingers reaching for the distant stars. He thought of Wayne's hand, reaching up from the floor, for salvation.

He had broken a sweat beneath the moon. Ankle deep in snow, he felt warm and comfortable, and he felt those scratches closing, itching just a little as the skin sealed up. He flung the shovel to the ground with a clang and turned slowly to face her. What was she? He walked slowly toward her. What kind of thing was she?

She didn't flinch, met his gaze easily as he came. He rolled his shoulders, listening to them pop. His mouth watered. She was different, certainly. The look on his face would have most women at least ready to back away, even if they didn't know why.

He released a long breath and relaxed his shoulders and his back, letting his bones slide and shift, coming apart and coming together. He curled his fingers, feeling them grow long, ran his tongue over the mouthful of strong teeth in his elongating jaw. The hair on his arms grew to warm him, sliding down over his shoulders and back. Everything in him begged to change and to run, his senses screaming that he needed it. But as the woman before him backed away, her slender feet breaking the snow's icy crust, he knew he needed something else a little more.

She raised her hand toward him, jabbing her fingers down into hooks as she had so long ago on the mall. He bared his teeth in a vicious mockery of a grin. That sort of thing wouldn't work on him now. Not much could hurt him out here now.

His arm lashed out, and he caught her by the throat. He lifted her easily and let her look down into the eyes which were now sort of like hers, green and glowing in the moonlight. Her breath stirred the coat of dense hair on his arm, and he tightened his fingers, letting her feel his claws, just a little. Just enough.

"Why don't I kill you?" he asked, his voice little more than an inhuman growl.

She whimpered and struggled in his grasp, both hands wrapped around his thick wrist. The absolute need to close his jaws on her throat surged in his chest, about to explode. Her pulse beat frantically against the coarse flesh of his palm.

"Why don't I kill you? Why don't I kill you and put what's left in a hole out here?"

"I can -- I can give you --"

"Give me what?" he roared. The world around them grew still, and nothing moved or breathed anywhere around them.

"Please!" she gasped. "Please let me --"

He shook her hard. Her body swayed like grass in a gentle breeze.

"You think that pussy can save you?"

"I can give you -- give you what you want," she stammered.

"Right now, what I want is to kill you."

"No." Her voice gathered strength, regaining some of its former resonance. "No. I know what you want. Release me. I'll tell you."

He flung her into the deep carpet of snow. She lay there, coughing and gazing up at him. Her white hands crossed over her throat, and the hat had tumbled from her head, freeing her red hair. Nick's massive form towered over her. He ached to finish the change, to stand on all fours in the icy clearing.

"We are alike," she said. Her voice was hoarse. "You are like me. You need to hunt. I feel it in you."

He said nothing.

"Stay with me. I will give you freedom. A place to run. Prey to hunt."

"I'm listening."

"You spend so much of life hiding. You hide your true nature. You need not hide from me."

"What's to stop me from killing you?"

She shook her head. "Only you."

"Then you'll kill me."

She chuckled. "No. You are strong. Not like your friend. Strong enough to feed me."

He stepped back from her, and as she watched, he seemed to shrink back into himself, receding until he had taken his earlier form. His whole body ached, not just from the change, but with the need to run, to feel the air rush over his body as his legs stretched and flexed. He could almost feel the frosty air in his lungs now.

Nick crossed his arms across his bare chest and regarded her as she struggled up from the ground, looking disheveled for the first time since he had seen her. He longed to finish rumpling her hair, press his mouth to those parted lips and pull open her coat until her body was against his, the intoxicating fragrance of her all around him. The snow would sizzle against that body of hers. Then he'd have a choice. He frowned at her, considering his options.

"Why do you change?" she asked. "You need this."

"I know," he said. "But first I want to bury my friend."

He could turn on her now, he knew. He could run her to ground and tear her to pieces, devouring her beneath the moonlight until there was nothing left but broken bones, at which point he would have to return to his subsistence on the mall. Or he could trade his burning need to hunt tonight for food, shelter, breathtaking sex -- a sensual feast that would last for as long as he could stand it. All that, and the freedom to change and hunt and run.

They left a mound of stones beneath the tree before returning to the Volvo. She hung back, letting him precede her, and he smiled to himself, feeling her wary gaze on him. She was right; they were alike. She must be at least a little afraid of him and what he could do to her. But she couldn't turn away from the promise of those endless nights any more than he could.

Of course, eventually, he would become useless to her. But that would take time, especially now that he was returning to regular meals. When the time finally came, perhaps they would find themselves back here, on this desolate clearing.

She thought he was strong now, after the endless months of scratching to survive. Now that he had a home, he would become a virtual colossus. Then he could reconsider his decision.