Winter Howl (Sanctuary) Page 4

  The dog barn, unlike the human barn—which could resemble a decent halfway house at the best of times—was something of a dog heaven, although most of their play time was outside. There were old couches, chairs, and dog beds, all donated or bought from Freecycle and Craigslist—it did not matter how beaten up the couch was as long as it was clean. There were also plenty of dog toys, donated new from people around the country as well as purchased with monetary donations, strewn all over a sawdust- and hay-covered dirt floor. At the back, there were two rooms for new puppies. There were another two rooms above the puppy rooms that acted as sickrooms for quarantine.

  There were only a few dogs in the dog barn at the moment, and one cat. Butch Cassidy was a tough tom who looked as if he had had a hard life, which was part of the reason why he had never been adopted through the website. The funny thing about Butch Cassidy was that he was a tremendously affectionate cat—although he did not get along well with other cats, he very much liked spending time with the dogs and humans. He hit dogs across the face whenever they got uppity, but he was a purring fuzzball the rest of the time. He only looked ragged and diseased, even though most of his bald spots were from old fights and he was given a clean bill of health every time the vet came by.

  One of the chocolate labs, Betsy, was nursing a paw, licking it and biting at it, and Renee caught sight of a little blood, so she went over and stroked Betsy’s head gently to distract her. Upon closer inspection, it just looked as if there had been a splinter or a misstep, so Renee kissed Betsy behind the ear and let her take care of it as nature intended. She would have to notify Malcolm of the problem, if he did not already know.

  Renee shook her head as she returned to the house—two thousand five hundred square feet of log cabin, with three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a great living room and dining room open area, a patio, and a greenhouse connecting to the kitchen. In addition to her computer duties, she was the one who mostly took care of the greenhouse and garden, although Max and Jake helped with some of the heavy grunt work during harvest. Since the bulk of the harvest had finished around a month ago, most of the outside garden work had ended for the season, at least until it was time to plant seeds again. But the greenhouse duties never ended, and Renee liked that kind of hands-on work.

  She walked into the house and heard that some members of her staff were enjoying a different kind of hands-on work. The realisation that sex of the non-canine variety happened in her sanctuary—in her home—had made her blush in her late years of high school after she had walked in on Ki and Max, then later on, Jake and Britt. It had since become something she was used to, and she mostly stayed out of the way when she heard certain sounds coming from the bedrooms in the back of the house or from Renee and Britt’s room, which was actually a loft above the great room. It was blocked off by a waist-high wall and a curtain to hide the rest. But a curtain did not always do enough to hide the gasps and pants, and even restrained groans, when Jake and Britt decided to get involved up there rather than in Jake’s room, which he shared with Leslie. Which, Renee thought, would be more considerate. At least that room had four walls, a door, and a doorknob to put a sock on.

  To their credit, they were trying to be quiet since they were in a less private place. But trying to be quiet and being quiet were two different things. Renee sighed and sat on the sofa to wait them out. The most frustrating part about it was not the way that things creaked or the way their breathing incited a certain number of enticing visuals. The most frustrating part was that she could not go into her room to deal with the tingling between her legs from hearing them.

  She had never been very good at getting herself off. Ever since she was thirteen and Britt had asked her, bold as brass, whether she’d ever masturbated, she had tried now and then. But it had only resulted in reaching a certain point and simply plateauing or even falling off, leaving her frustrated, with her pubic bone feeling a little abused and her hands dirty. But she knew that Britt could masturbate just fine, and Renee had never really figured out what the secret was. It was like trying to tickle herself—it was never as good as someone else tickling you. At least, that was Renee’s working theory. It wasn’t as if she knew.

  When Renee had turned eighteen, Britt had gifted her with a standard vibrator in secret—that kind of gift, you did not unwrap in front of your father—and that had been a revelation. It had been exactly what she’d needed, and in retrospect, it could have been the first clue that Britt might fancy her just a little bit. Within just two minutes of switching it on and bringing it against her clit, the orgasm had come over her in an overwhelming wave, as though it had just been waiting to flood the dam.

  In that way, Renee could understand how Britt could tell her that she wasn’t frigid. But being able to bring oneself off was no indication that she could allow someone else to do the same. Or whether she really wanted to. Although if she were to let anyone try, she supposed she could trust Jake or Britt. If she were to let them, they would respect her boundaries and the kinds of things that she needed.

  And the very thought of that made Renee look around to make sure she was alone in the great room before sliding a hand under her jeans. This was just a quick, light taste of what she would give to herself when she could get into the bathroom or the closet—the two places where she could truly have privacy. Or when she could get to one of those detachable showerheads that she had put into all the bathrooms, including the stall showers in the shapeshifters’ barn. On the sofa, she lightly rubbed the fabric of her underwear up and down and in small circles just above her clitoris, against that sensitive spot where her pubic bone was hard against her fingertips.

  The litany of gasps and stifled groans from the loft began to increase in pace, and Renee imagined the way that Britt would be riding Jake. Britt had once told Renee she liked being on top, and in spite of his alpha status as a dog, Renee didn’t think Jake would mind relinquishing power in the bedroom. Britt could be wild sometimes, and the creaks of the bed indicated just how wildly Britt was thrusting. Down around Jake’s erection, squeezing him with her thighs and with other things, truly riding him. Soon, she would whimper in that way, the way she whimpered when she was about to reach her climax, that deliciously clenching feeling right before the orgasm collapsed into a momentary peace. Renee had heard it some nights when the rustling of the bed clothes could not be explained by tossing and turning or scratching an itch—or at least not the itch Britt had meant when she’d initially tried to explain it away. Eventually, both of them had grown used to just letting themselves be girls. If they needed privacy more than convenience, they would kneel in the bathroom or the walk-in closet. But if it was night time, anything was allowed. Heavy breathing from either of their beds was generally ignored, as was a light hum if Renee was using her vibrator.

  There it was, that whimper that Renee had been listening for, and the quiet curse from Jake as the noise of the bedsprings quickened forcefully. Britt came before he did, and there was a spike of pleasure as Renee pressed against that spot just above her clit a little harder. Then there were the last few grunts from Jake, which told Renee that he had not been far behind. Britt was always quick, at least for a woman—as far as Renee knew. Renee had always climaxed pretty quickly with a vibrator, although it could take her much longer when she was waiting for a dead vibrator to be replaced.

  There were about five minutes of soft whispers, post-coital bliss, and Renee slowed down her strokes. She would have her time as soon as those bastards got out of the room. She smiled tightly as she thought of them walking out right then, finding her with her hand in her pants right after they’d had sex in her room. She was a little self-conscious as she heard the first creaks from the floorboards in the loft, and she withdrew her hand quickly, although she did not try to hide it. Britt would catch on to that immediately if she were to walk out of the room right then.

  Then Britt laughed and Renee knew it was probably safe to go up to her room, but she would still wait for them to start
coming down the stairs, just to be more polite than they were—going at it in her room when there were steaks to be cooked. Not that it took long when most of them liked rare meat, with the odd exception of Leslie and Ki. And, goddamn it, she needed to come now that she’d got herself started. It was almost unpleasant, the warmth and slight throbbing between her legs. It had been even more unpleasant when she had not known what it meant in her younger years.

  “Quite finished?” she asked as Jake pushed back the curtain and started down the stairs with Britt at his heels. The two of them shared a self-satisfied look. There was no guilt—guilt was not an issue in their household. Just inconvenience.

  “Quite,” Jake replied. “What do you want to go with your steak? We have some eggplant…”

  “Go wash your hands before you cook, the both of you,” Renee said. “Eggplant is fine.” She stood from her place on the sofa and headed up the stairs herself.

  “You’ll be down soon?” Britt asked.

  “Yes. A few minutes.”

  “And the rest of the evening will go as usual?” Jake asked.

  “Yes. Okay.”

  “You know, I think she heard us,” Jake murmured to Britt as they headed into the kitchen together.

  “Heard us? I think she was listening,” Britt said, not quite as quietly as Jake, which meant that she’d intended for Renee to hear her. Renee grinned, then briskly went up the last few steps.

  She retrieved her trusty silver-coloured vibrator from her bedside drawer and escaped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her without turning on the lights. She unzipped her jeans and pushed them down a little bit. She did not bother pushing down her underwear.

  Renee turned the vibrator on its highest setting and pressed it against herself, feeling the vibrations up her arm and all around the flesh between her legs. She didn’t need anything fancy right now. All she wanted was to come, and come soon. It wouldn’t take long.

  She thought of what Britt and Jake would have been like if they had not been in the loft. She had heard their noises muted through the logs when they were in Jake’s room, and she knew they liked to be vocal. They never screamed, but there were so many other noises to make. She thought of Jake whipping Britt around and plunging deep into her, taking control, whispering dirty things in her ear and losing himself in her warmth as she held him close. If Renee felt anything approaching shame for imagining her friends having sex in order for her to get off, it was lost in the quick tightening, then release, with her cunt clutching at emptiness. It was always over too soon, no matter how much she tried to savour the moment.

  Sighing, she stood up, then went to the bathroom while she was there, in part to wipe off the strong-smelling juices that seeped out of her. Now that she knew her friends could smell her after she’d orgasmed, it made her slightly self-conscious.

  If she thought of Britt and Jake while touching herself, the world of possibilities for the others suddenly opened up—maybe they thought of her when they were doing the same. It was an odd, slightly sideways thought. She would not let it bother her. They were her friends, and they were loyal friends at that. And she thought she might love them like that. A little thing like sexual fantasy should be nothing. She washed her hands, replaced her vibrator, and went downstairs to check the sanctuary blog and feed the cats.

  * * * *

  She’d had a wonderful night with the pack. A game of Monopoly could be boring, but it had been worthwhile for the company and being able to bankrupt people and have strange rules like eating a piece of chocolate on every third double or drinking whenever someone got into jail. Not for some of them, on that last part, although it had never been a problem for Jake or Renee. Britt was a surprising lightweight. But of course, any of the imbibing had been optional.

  Leslie had won, laughing in his quiet way as the group had showered him with fake money and promised to do some of his chores over the weekend, like vacuuming the rugs in the house and cleaning the bathrooms.

  No, no one had forced him into doing those chores—he had chosen them himself, wanting to help out but not really wanting to leave the house. He was very much a homebody when he was in human skin. As a boxer, however, he would run and run and run through the woods until he was frothing and mud was embedded in his paws. So having his chores done for the weekend meant that he could work on his book and a few articles before taking his run.

  Leslie was the kind of man—forty-two years old and looking like a fifty-year-old professor—with whom Renee felt completely comfortable just sitting silently in the same room, without feeling the pressure to talk or listen. They sometimes spent hours together doing their respective tasks on the computer. When she needed to use the phone, Leslie was usually so lost in whatever he was writing that he barely noticed. He could not be considered a surrogate father—it was more accurate to say he was a surrogate eccentric uncle.

  Leslie, though, was an early bird whereas she was a night owl, so now she was alone in the computer room with the quiet hum of technology around her. The only illumination came from the computer in front of her and various LED lights from the other machines. She was updating information about the various dogs in the sanctuary, and she wanted to add a post on Butch Cassidy. Butch Cassidy, while an unfortunately unadoptable cat to so many ignorant people, seemed to be vastly entertaining nonetheless. People who stopped by her blog loved him and the pictures she’d taken of him. People subscribed. Advertisers asked whether they could advertise on her blog and her website. And it made her money. Not much, but for a non-profit organisation, a little was a lot.

  Building her website and keeping her blog updated helped with that. She received donations through the blog and the website. Whenever the Chambers Dog Sanctuary had a little press release in one town or another, either through the newspaper or through a reporter on a news station, donations saw a spike. That was always nice.

  Renee’s eyelids were finally beginning to droop when she heard the commotion outside. Grabbing her own plush, purple dressing gown, she threw it on over her pyjama tank and navy-striped lounge pants. Running and tying a knot at the same time, her hair loose around her face, she ran to the front door. Just as she reached for the doorknob, she heard something she had only heard maybe twice in her life, and never so close to the sanctuary. Part of the racket was the barking of the dogs—the sound both territorial and fearful. But over the barking, a single, extended piercing howl rent the air and literally made her hairs stand on end. She had heard of that phrase, but had never known the experience until that moment. It was too close, right-outside-her-house close. Too close for Renee to open the door.

  “What the hell?” Britt said blearily, running down the stairs.

  Renee was paralysed with her hand on the doorknob, but she whispered, “Wolf.”

  “Are you kidding?” Britt said.

  Jake did not even bother with the stairs. He swung down from the top stair and landed hard on the wooden floor. “She’s not kidding,” Jake said grimly.

  The howl keened again, and the noise from the dogs quieted for a moment before coming back in full force.

  Jake’s hand covered hers on the doorknob. “It’s okay. We’ll protect you.” She felt the muzzle of a rifle against her arm, cold even through the bathrobe sleeve. “It’s probably the animal that’s been doing all those killings. But if it comes after you, it won’t have a second thought. All right?”

  She nodded, but it took Jake’s help to break through her panicked paralysis. The warmth of Jake and Britt helped, and Ki, Max, and Malcolm were padding over to join them. Leslie was probably sleeping—he could sleep through almost anything.

  Heart jerking in arrhythmic beats, she pulled open the door and peeked out. She could not see anything in the yard but shadows, although the waxing silver coin of a moon at least made some shapes visible in the darkness. Jake pulled the door open some more and cocked the gun, ready. Renee cautiously stepped onto the wraparound porch, peering into the yard.

  There it
was—a large, slouching shape, a hulking silver creature with eyes that mirrored the moon greenly in the glare. Britt fumbled with the light switch near the door, and she turned on the great room light before the porch light. For one terrifying moment, Renee could not see past the steps of her house, but then the porch lights came on, illuminating the part of the yard in front of it. Then she could see the creature even better, and that did not help at all.

  At first, Renee thought it was too large to be a wolf, but the mannerisms, the shape, the mouth…they seemed to fit. It looked a bit like a dark version of Britt in her malamute skin, though several times as large. Even as her mind interpreted what she saw as a wolf, she knew it was far too big. But she had no other explanation.

  From what she could see, there was no foam around its mouth, but foam was only one indicator of one disease, and its gaping maw seemed to be grinning hungrily at her, although she was silly to impart it with some kind of homicidal intent. If it was a wolf, it did not have homicidal intent—it had instincts and wants and needs, and that was all. It did not feel malice.

  Jake brought the rifle to his shoulder and pointed it at the wolf. The wolf just sat there, panting slightly. There was no apparent agitation, no anger or pain. Even knowing it was impossible, Renee thought that it did appear malicious.

  The animal began to walk towards the porch, still grinning. Its mouth was clean of blood, and that was encouraging, but wolves were not supposed to just walk up to humans. It should not have even been so close to the compound in the first place. Something was clearly wrong, and Jake muttered, “If he gets within ten yards of the porch, I may have to shoot.”

  “Go ahead,” Renee said quietly. They were all staring, unable to do much more, since as dogs they could only attack it in numbers because it was too big for them to attack singly. Not that they would want to attack, not with the indifference that the wolf seemed to have for the rising barks of the dogs in the dog barn, some of which had come out but not come any closer. They were not reckless. It was the wolf that was reckless, and when the dogs could not smell fear, they knew something was terribly wrong.