The Bitch - 8

Stephen closed Ian’s bedroom door softly, but Jill had still heard his question. “Where’s Mommy?”

The words echoed in her mind, sharper than any pain her changing body had inflicted. She had been standing just outside, her canine form hidden in the shadows of the hallway, her fur prickling with guilt.

Stephen sat talking to Ian for quite a while. Whatever he said, Ian hadn't started to cry. She didn't think she could bear causing him distress, and wondered what he told their son.

Their son. Even now, it gave her pause. She'd spent so long, so many nights giving him a bath, washing his clothes, cooking his meals. She cleaned his ears, read him stories, played blocks with him. She'd found the pediatrician, made sure he was up on his dental visits, and what about the psoriasis he had between his toes and his knuckled? Would Stephen be able to handle all that?

Tonight they were supposed to have chicken and her and Stephen would have asparagus while Ian ate tater-tots which was his favorite. He had scouts tomorrow afternoon, and she needed to sign him up for baseball tryouts, and would he go to soccer practice? Would Stephen know to purchase the oranges at Smarts, and cut them into quarters, and get the little bags so each child could have four sliced pieces of orange?

Jill was also in charge of the carpool to school next week, and she was supposed to pick up Dillon and little Wayne, would Stephen know of this? It was all written on the calendar, but would he even think to look?

She paced back and forth in the yard, trying not to think about it. She couldn't drive, not anymore, not for…awhile anyway. She also couldn't operate a knife, or hold a pen, or do all the fifty and a half million things that needed to be done to keep their homelife happy and moving forward.

Hell, even Stephen, with his job at the racquet club. He would eat at Burger King five days a week if she didn't pack his lunches! And what about Beth Richardson, with the dreamy eyes who flirted with Stephen from behind her desk. Would she somehow sense that Jill was out of the picture?

She paced in the backyard, the moonlight casting long shadows across the grass. Stephen had opened the gate, his expression hard and determined. “Now you wait in the yard,” he’d said. “I’ll catch it when it comes in.”

Jill nodded, her animal instincts growing stronger, making the motion feel natural. She trotted back and forth across the yard, her head low, her nose working overtime as it sifted through the cool night air. The scents of damp earth, distant smoke, and faint traces of Ian lingered in her mind, but she was searching for something else.

The loup-garou.

The creature was out there, somewhere, and it wanted her—she could feel it. A strange thrill coursed through her as she imagined its feral eyes meeting hers again. She wasn’t sure if she was hunting it or if she was its prey.

Stephen crouched behind the grill, the shotgun ready in his hands. He hadn’t said much after giving her instructions, but she could feel the weight of his stare as she moved.

Was he thinking about Beth even now? Was he thinking about those little lunches she always packed? Sometimes she'd even put in a little sticky note with a happy thought and a smiley face just so he had a nice day. When was the last time she had done that?

When was the last time they went dancing? Or made love? Or hell, even kissed? She remembered him kissing her yesterday when she'd still had some humanity…was that all gone now? She licked her teeth with her doggy tongue. She no longer even had lips. How could he kiss her?

“You’re doing fine,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “We’ll end this tonight.”

Jill’s ears twitched at the faint sound of rustling in the distance. Her tail stiffened, her body freezing as her golden eyes locked on the far end of the yard. The scent hit her then, musky and sharp, tinged with a metallic undercurrent that made her mouth water.

It was here.

The loup-garou stepped into view, its massive frame illuminated by the moonlight. Its fur bristled, its glowing eyes narrowing as it spotted her. A low growl rumbled from its chest, and Jill’s lips curled back in response, her body tensing.

"Welcome sister." It said in a soft voice. Did it say that? She barked in response. She didn't mean for it to sound like an alarm but it had surprised her.

Stephen shifted behind the grill, raising the shotgun, but the loup-garou didn’t look at him. Its focus was entirely on Jill.

She lowered her head, her instincts taking over. Her paws dug into the earth as she bared her teeth, a snarl rising unbidden from her throat. She didn’t wait for Stephen to act—she lunged.

The loup-garou met her halfway, and the collision sent them both sprawling in the grass. She felt its claws rake across her side, but the pain barely registered. They rolled, snapping and growling, a whirlwind of fur and teeth.

“Jill, move!” Stephen shouted, but she barely heard him. Her vision tunneled, her focus locked on the creature in front of her. She clamped her jaws around its shoulder, feeling the warm rush of blood as it howled in pain.

The shotgun fired, a deafening crack that seemed to split the night in two.

The loup-garou yelped and staggered back, its golden eyes wide with rage. It glanced at Stephen, then at Jill, before retreating into the darkness. Its snarls faded into the distance until there was only silence.

"We will talk soon…" it said.

"Dammit hon!" Stephen said, and Jill immediately fought an urge to put her tail between her legs. "We needed information, not for you to go all apeshit on his ass."

Jill tried to speak to him in return, but all that came out were barks and more barks.

"I had to shoot at it in order for it not to disembowel you!" He shook his head in frustration. "You know that, right?"

Jill had known it. And she hadn't given the thing a chance to 'explain itself.' But didn't the thing know what she was going through? BETH RICHARDSON WAS IN LOVE WITH HER HUSBAND! Didn't it see that?

Stephen sighed, then knelt. “Jill! Are you okay?”

She panted heavily, her sides heaving. The metallic taste of blood lingered in her mouth, and she struggled to focus. “Gone,” she managed, her voice guttural and broken.

“For now,” Stephen said grimly. “But it’ll be back.”

They went inside.

No, no. It just wasn't right. It wasn't right that she was feeling guilty over all of this. She had done her part, a part any dog would, she had defended her Master and…

Well fuck.

She paused, mid stride. Stephen paused with her. She looked up him.

She wasn't any dog. Hell, she hadn't even been a dog until that morning. It had been less than 24 hours and she was already defending her husband who she thought of as her Alpha.

Jill lowered her head, exhaustion washing over her. She had fought the loup-garou off, but deep down, she wasn’t sure who—or what—she was becoming.