Dating The White Wolf (BWWM)

Chapter 12

"There's nothing for you to prove anymore."

He was serious. Dead serious.

"Richard. I don't want to do that."

His expression turned blank. "What?"

Standing up from the couch, she made herself go over to him. "Richard. I was kind of hoping you and I could start using the wolf, you know, less often? I want to be with you, baby, I do. But the white wolf is starting to come between us. It's too much."

"What? No it isn't."

"Yes, baby, it is." She put her hands on either side of his face, trying to reassure him. "Look at what it's doing to you. You've come to depend on it like, I don't know, like some damned crutch."

"No, I'm not. The wolf is a part of me, is all. It's not like I can just take it off like a shirt."

Camille sighed, eying the box and its hypodermic needles. "You've come to rely on the wolf juice to make you happy. You don't need it all the time. You are a great person without it."

Angrily he stepped away from her, putting the needle back in its box and slapping the lid closed. "Fine! If you don't want this gift, then I'll find someone who will!"

She stood there, feeling as if he'd slapped her. "Richard, I only meant-"

"That I use this as a crutch!" he exploded, shaking the box in her direction. "It's not a crutch! I need it, do you understand me, I need it!"

He stopped still, blinking at her, realizing what he had just said.

"You see?" she said to him gently, walking across the floor to stand next to him yet again. "You see what I'm saying? It's like you've let it take over your life. You started out by trying to find some way to please your dad but now you've allowed this thing to control you. You can't even have sex without it anymore."

"It's just not the same," he said to her weakly. "Sex with the wolf is this amazing and incredible experience that turns me on and makes me feel alive! Sex without it is just...sex."

"That's what it is for everyone," she pointed out. "Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's awkward, but it's always sex. Do it with me? Now?"

He looked at her like she'd just suggested trying to breathe water. His eyes were wide, and behind the pale flecks of yellow coloring she thought she could see fear rising.

"Richard," she paused, thinking up her words carefully, placing her hand on his strong, broad shoulder. "Do this with me. I promise I'll make it feel good for you. You don't need the wolf."

"Yes I do!" he insisted, grabbing hold of her arm with his free hand. "And I want you to do it also. Take the injection, you'll see how much better it can be for you, too!"

She tried to pull away from him, scared of how he was acting. "You don't need it, Richard! There's nothing for you to prove anymore. Your father is dead!"

The whole world crashed down around them. Camille could feel it. She'd crossed a line with him. No matter how good her intentions had been in trying to get him away from a drug that she now saw was just that, a dangerous and addictive drug, the subject of his father was still an angry and open wound. Everything she had just said was true. She felt that in her heart.

But truth doesn't always set you free.

He stood very stiffly, facing her, but not really seeing him. "Get out," he said.

"Richard, please. Just come and sit down with me. We can work this out. Can't we?"

Camille was shaking inside. She felt the wave of cold anger washing off him. She had only tried to help. She didn't want him to be wrapped up in the wolf for the rest of their lives. She loved him. Not the monster sex animal he could turn himself into. True, this past week had been incredible in every way and she was always fulfilled when he did her as the wolf. She didn't want that to be all there was for them, though. She wanted a life built on reality, not on some engineered idea of perfection that Richard was trying to live up to.
Every man has his issues, but these were a bit more then the regular ones she was used to.

The word love in that thought surprised her, but she didn't try to deny it. What she felt for him was exactly that. She had thought, or hoped, he felt the same.

She didn't know how to get through the wall that he had put up. They stood there in silence, for how long she didn't know, but then he just turned and walked away.

"See yourself out, won't you?" he said to her.

A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. "No," she said to him. "Please. Just talk to me. Don't go."

At the hallway leading off the living room he stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. "I'm not going. You are."

His bedroom door shut slowly behind him. Camille was left alone. What the hell had just happened? They had been on their way to another great night and now all of a sudden he had shut her out of his life? Just like that?

Finding her courage, she pressed her lips together tightly and marched down to his bedroom. She had meant to rap her knuckles on the door loudly, firmly, but instead it turned into a timid little knock that he didn't answer.

"Richard?" Still, nothing but silence. "Come on. Talk to me. I'm sorry for what I said. You're a grown man, I know that, and you do things for your own reasons. I get it. Just, can we talk about this?"

There was a rustling inside the room, the sound of Richard moving about and things thumping around. Then, the sound of a low growl that she recognized immediately. He'd released the wolf.

Backing away from the door, she felt afraid of him for the first time. Ever. The first time he'd turned into the wolf while they were making love, it hadn't worried her. It had been exciting and thrilling to have his wolf play with him. She hadn't been scared then, and she hadn't been scared since.

She was scared now.

With how angry he had been, how moody, she didn't want to be in the same place with him when the wolf was free. It wouldn't help anything. She turned to go but behind her the bedroom door opened and his huge wolf hand, hairy and coarse, grabbed her arm. He turned her back around to him, took hold of her other arm and leaned into her, his tongue licking her neck. "Tell me you don't want this," he rumbled.

Her body came alive under his rough touch and her breath caught in her throat. Still. She knew. She knew that if she gave into him now that she would never be able to have a normal relationship with him. She would never have him as Richard without the white wolf lurking in the background.

"Richard," she whispered close to tears, "stop it."

"Make me."

The little noise that escaped her throat was a traitorous sound and her body was doing its best to make a liar out of her. "Stop it," she said more strongly. "I don't want it like this."

His teeth sank gently into her shoulder and she swooned, her knees giving out. When she recovered, she put her hands to his chest and pushed against him. "No, Richard."

He laughed at her.

"No, damn it. I said no!" She beat on him as she screamed and finally he let go of her and she stumbled back against the wall, knocking an original Van Gogh off its hook.

Richard looked down at her, his chest heaving, his eyes on fire with an eerie animal light. His lips parted from his clenched teeth and he growled and Camille took another step sideways as she felt her blood run cold.

He blinked, and when he did he pulled his head back and shook himself from tip to tail. Growling, grumbling, he paced a few steps and then held his hand up, long index finger pointing at the elevator door. "Go," he told her.

Just that single word. That was all.

Camille picked herself up off the wall and stepped quickly to the elevator, not feeling safe until the doors slid closed on her. She had one last glimpse of him, his head hung low, his eyes dark.

She took one long look at his beautiful snow white fur as she knew this would be the last she ever saw of Richard, in any form.