Eyes Like a Wolf Read online

  “Family,” I repeated, hugging him back, thinking that I finally understood. “And we'll always stay together.”

  Chapter Two

  “Look at my daughter's face and tell me again how you want to press charges against my son.” My mother dragged me forward, pushing me almost directly into Mrs. Jenkins's massive, out-thrust bosom.

  “Well!” The pointed bosom heaved with indignation. I avoided it as well as I could, looking miserably down at my feet.

  “Let her see your face, Rachel.” My mother raised my chin forcibly, and I found myself looking into the close-set, angry eyes of Todd's mother.

  “The boys said they were just having a bit of fun and got carried away.”

  “Got carried away? They nearly took out my daughter's eye!” My mother pointed to the deep gash over my forehead. It was trickling blood again, despite the fact that she had treated it with antibiotic ointment the moment she'd gotten home and seen the damage. “That will probably turn into a permanent scar,” she said in a low, angry voice, so much different that Mrs. Jenkins's affronted bugling. “You're lucky we don't insist you pay for a plastic surgeon.”

  “Plastic surgeon? My son's arm was dislocated! He may never pitch a baseball again.” Mrs. Jenkins pressed forward angrily, as though trying to use her bosom to get a foot in the door. I would have giggled at the mixed metaphor if I hadn't been feeling so wretched.

  “Then maybe he won't be able to throw a rock either,” my mother said.

  Mrs. Jenkins fell back, her high, lacquered hair bobbing in defeat. But she still had one weapon left in her arsenal, and she didn't mind using it. “You Kemets are all just freaks,” she hissed. “Nobody in town wants you here, and the sooner you realize that and pack up and move off, the better it will be for all of us.” Then she turned on her heel and marched down the echoing wood planks of our wide front porch, her impressive bosom preceding her.

  My mother slammed the door on her retreating form. “Come on, Rachel,” she said, tugging me further into the house by the arm. Her mouth had thinned into the narrow white line that told me she was really upset. I wished I could sink into the ground and disappear. Lately, it seemed like Mom was always upset, and I hated the fact that I had been the cause of it this time.

  The front door slammed again, and we turned in time to see my father come in the door, a briefcase in one hand and a quizzical expression on his handsome face. “I just saw Mrs. Jenkins on our front walk, and she didn't answer when I said hello. Is there a problem, Lillian?”

  “You're damn right there's a problem,” my mother spat. “Just look at her face—the Jenkins boy did that.” I cringed, both at her tightened grip on my arm and the forbidden word. No one was supposed to swear in my family, but my mother forgot this rule when she got upset.

  “Rachel.” My father's pale green eyes dropped to mine, filled with a weary kind of resignation. “Come give me a hug and run to your room. It's bedtime.”

  It was only seven o'clock and still light outside, but I didn't argue. When Mom got into one of her towering rages, it was always up to Dad to calm her down. Richard and I just tried to stay out of the way.

  My father hugged me tight and close for a long moment, and I smelled the masculine scent of his aftershave and the cigars he sometimes smoked. Under that was a base note that I simply thought of as “Daddy.” It was a comforting scent, one that Richard was coming to have as well as he grew older. Maybe the scent was a part of our family or the mysterious tribe of Amon-kai, I don't know. I only know that in later years I could never bring myself to trust a man without it.

  My father released me and sent me upstairs with a pat. I went to my room, which was decorated in climbing roses and delicate lace. It had a canopy bed and a small make-up table that was an exact copy of the larger one that my mother had in her room. Mine was the bedroom of a little princess, but this time the graceful decor gave me no joy. Downstairs I could hear my parents fighting—again.

  “…not right!” My mother's voice had risen from its usually well-modulated tone to a high, angry pitch that hurt my sensitive ears. “The way we live—the way we are. It's not right.”

  “It's the way things have always been for our people—for the Amon-kai.” My father's voice was lower, soothing. “Please, Lillian, you can't listen to women like that close-minded shrew.”

  “It's not just her, Nathaniel, it's the whole town. They think we're freaks.”

  “Who cares what they think?” my father demanded.

  “I do,” my mother cried. “Because what if they're right? Did you ever think of that, just once, Nathaniel? Did you ever stop to think that maybe the precious 'teachings' our parents passed down to us are all just twisted foolishness and sick lies?”

  “Of course not.”

  I heard his measured tread on the floor below, then my mother hissed, “Don't touch me!”

  “Please, Lillian.” My father's deep voice was desperate, but my mother was obviously past caring.

  “Do you know what they'd think of us if they really knew? Knew the whole truth? What we are—what our children will become?”

  “I don't care what anyone thinks—I only know I love you. And our children are beautiful—perfect. Rachel and Richard both, even if Richard isn't ours by blood.”

  “So perfect their classmates tease and taunt them? So perfect they throw rocks and call them freaks?” My mother's voice had risen to a knife's edge of hysteria that really scared me. I balled myself up on my bed, pressing a lace-covered pillow over my ears, but I could still hear.

  “We should have known better, Nathaniel,” my mother shouted. “We should have known we'd never be accepted.”

  “We're different,” my father soothed. “People are afraid of anything different…”

  “Well maybe they're right to be afraid! Richard dislocated Todd Jenkins's arm today—we're lucky they didn't call the police.”

  “He was protecting his Lana-zeel,” my father protested. “It's no more than I would have done if someone tried to harm or threaten you, Lillian.”

  “It's wrong. We're wrong,” my mother said. “And I'm tired of being different—of sticking out in a crowd and attracting attention. I don't want this kind of life anymore. Not for me and not for my daughter.”

  “What are you saying?” My father's voice was low and tense. I could hear the muffled sound of his pacing across the living room carpet downstairs.

  “I'm saying I need to leave. I need to get away from this relationship and everything to do with it. Maybe it's too late for me, but it's not too late for Rachel. I don't want her innocence to be taken at such a young age. I don't want her choices limited, her life laid out for her before she's had a chance to consider the possibilities.”

  “There are no possibilities outside the Amon-Kai,” my father said in a low, tense voice. “And her innocence belongs to her mate—to Richard. The same way yours belonged to me from the moment we were bonded.”

  “I'm not talking about me,” my mother spat. “I'm talking about Rachel.”

  “And if you leave and take her with you, what happens then?” my father demanded. “What about me? What about Richard?”

  “You two can keep each other company. Rachel and I can start a new life—far away from here.” My mother's voice was cool now. I had heard her threaten to leave before, but never in this calm tone of voice. I felt a shiver of fear coat my bones.

  “You're not serious.” But my father sounded uncertain. “You know how much I need you—how much Richard is going to need Rachel in a few more years. You can't separate them now, Lillian. Not when they're so close to their bonding ceremony. They'll never find what they need outside each other now.”

  “I can separate them, and I will.”

  “I won't let you go.” My father's voice had dropped to a menacing growl. “You know that, Lillian. I can't.”

  “Do you really think you can watch me every minute?”

  “If I have to. Come here!”

  “Why