Page 12 of Heart of a Dire Wolf
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Skyla finally felt like she had a handle on her needy desire to pull over and invite Nic to pounce. She’d been afraid his proximity would make her mindless with lust, but taking in his scent with every breath actually seemed to help. It left her horny as hell, with a perpetual ache in her lower abdomen, but able to think.
Traffic hadn’t been bad, for a Sunday evening. With the help of Mauk and the maps, they’d topped off the gas tank, avoided a night-time construction slowdown, and taken the faster route to Victorville. They were now headed northeast on Interstate 15, toward southern Utah. She borrowed her wolf’s night vision to help her see in the dark. Shifter strength and magic should keep her alert until they got to Las Vegas. The legendary town held no appeal, especially after Nic had told her how the bobcat shifter twins had been caught, but scruffy people carrying a wad of cash would be completely unremarkable.
She felt more comfortable now that she wore the underwear, pull-on bra, and flip-flops she’d bought from the grocery store. She’d grown up in human communities, not a clothing-optional shifter town. Nic found boxers and a T-shirt that just barely fit, and tied his long hair back with a rubber band. Her filthy hair was too revolting to think about. Their California-casual look would have to do.
“More?” he asked, pointing a thumb toward the two cases of bottled water on the back seat.
“I’m good, thanks.” She handed him the empty. She approved that he put it in their designated trash bag instead of just tossing it on the floor. “I’ve been trying to place your accent.”
“French, Greenlandic, Finnish, First Nations, Russian, take your pick. My parents emigrated from Russia to Greenland when I was a child because they didn’t want to be anywhere near the Russian monarchy when it fell. They moved to Canada to be closer to civilization. My mother is a caribou and aniduyan, a hearth witch, and my dad’s a Siberian tiger, like me.”
“How old are you?” She flashed on an unpleasant memory of the auction house’s intake interrogation. “Sorry, that’s being nosy.”
“I don’t mind.” He smiled. “I want to know more about you, too, so let’s trade answers. I was born on the twentieth of June in nineteen hundred and eight. You?”
“August second, nineteen seventy-five.” Even though she was barely out of the den as far as multi-century shifter lifespans went, she was still twenty years older than her human grad student friends. Nic had fifty-plus more years of experience.
Mauk beeped twice for attention. “I recommend the left lane. The driver of the truck ahead is looking for a place to pull over.”
“Thank you, Mauk.” She signaled as she moved left, even though no car was close enough to care. “Are your parents still around?”
“Yes, they have a big ranch adjacent to a wildlife refuge in northern Quebec. They just had a baby, which was how the assholes caught me.” He explained about the annual caribou clan migration, the underwater trap, and waking up in the auction house. “I want to call them and let them know what happened, but my father would insist on coming to rescue us. He’s very protective of his family.”
She liked the sound of that, even though Nic’s tone suggested he found it exasperating. “I hope to meet him one day.”
“What about your family?”
“Dead.” She didn’t like talking about it, but Nic deserved to know he’d be getting nothing but her. “I’m the last of my line. My mother died when I was fourteen. My father disappeared two years ago. The hunters caught my sister and me together five weeks ago.” Raw pain lanced through her. “She went feral. The guards killed her yesterday.” She clenched her teeth to will the tears away. “I found you, but I had to leave without her.”
“Black woman, hell of a fighter?” When she nodded, Nic swore. “I’m sorry, Skyla.”
“Yeah, me, too.” She let out a controlled breath. “I plan on sending her off in style, once we’re safe.”
A slight hill let her see the surprising amount of oncoming traffic ahead as she passed the slowing big truck. A thought struck her.
“Mauk, how did you know what the truck wanted to do?”
“The driver talks to herself out loud.” The tone was matter of fact.
Skyla blinked. “How far can you hear?”
“I do not know. I have not been tested.”
Nic touched the dashboard above the display. “Mauk, are you a captive? Helping us against your will?”
She should have thought to ask, and was glad Nic did. Mauk had too much personality to be a simple magic-fused computer.
“No,” said Mauk. “I am a one-of-a-kind silica-sentient construct in a magical-mechanical shell. You are my passengers. This is my purpose.”
As close as she was to Nic, she felt his dissatisfaction with the answer. It made her feel better about her own reaction, that Mauk’s answer sounded sad and bleak. She reached out briefly to pat Nic’s solid thigh. He covered her hand with his and squeezed gently. Even that small contact sent a zing through her core. She squeezed his hand back, then reluctantly pulled away.
“Mauk,” she asked, “do youwantto be tested?”
Mauk was silent for several long moments. “Yes. I will be a more valued construct if I know my parameters.”
She might be unhelpful in a fight, but testing was right up her alley. She’d designed hundreds of them for undergraduate students. “Start with that pickup truck in front of us. Your map says it’s about a half mile ahead. I’ll match its pace, so you can get a baseline.”
