Taming the Wolf

Page 32

“Making a run for it?”
I gasped and jerked backwards. Looking to the right, Wade was leaning against the side of the house, a cigarette glowing against the darkness as he took a drag.
“No,” I bit back, annoyed he’d startled me. “I just needed some air.”
“Yeah, the return of your lover’s mate can’t be an easy thing to deal with,” he mocked.
I shook my head, too annoyed to deal with a cocky leader. When I walked away, footsteps sounded behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I frowned at Wade following me.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I snapped, turning around and continuing my walk to the forest edge.
“Seeing as how you’re being shipped off to another pack because people are dying, I’d say you do,” Wade remarked, not missing a step as I quickened my pace.
Whirling around, I stopped and glared at him. My emotions were in a frenzy of jealousy, fear, and sexual frustration. If Wade kept pushing, I was liable to do something stupid, like attack him.
“I’m going for a run,” I told him.
“Why don’t we go get a drink? The pack will be busy attending to Eve for a while.” Wade took another drag off of his cigarette, the cherry lighting his face.
“It’s 2:00 a.m.,” I reminded him.
“I know a bar that doesn’t close until 4:00 a.m.”
My main reason for wanting to change and run was to relieve stress, alcohol would also work. I glanced back at the house. Wade was right. They’d be occupied with Eve for the rest of the night.
“Alright,” I told him, and followed him to his truck.
*
The small, little bar sat back behind a row of hunting and fishing stores. Looking from the street you’d never know it was there. I followed Wade down a tiny alleyway, littered with discarded trash. The brick exterior was painted dark green with the words ‘Wild Things’ on a rectangular board in white. There were no windows on the outside and the metal door had one of those slide thingies that allowed the people inside to peek out and demand a password. Or maybe I’d seen too many movies.
Wade knocked three times, pausing in between as if a special code was being given. The slide moved open, and two orange eyes stared back at us. I knew those sorts of peepers, whoever this dude was, he was a werewolf.
Wade pushed the sleeve of his shirt up and held up his arm, his wrist facing the man. The peephole closed and the clanging of deadbolts being unlocked echoed through the door.
“Back so soon, Mr. Wade?” A large man asked, extending an arm as an invitation to come in. The man, who was as thick and solid as a tree trunk, stood around six-foot-five. What little light there was gleamed off of his bald head like a spotlight. His black T-shirt fit snuggly around each protruding muscle in his arms, which were covered in various tattoos. The one that caught my eye was of two werewolves—one gray and one black—doing the deed under a full moon.
“You’ve got the best whiskey in town,” Wade said, and the man grunted in agreement. His eyes quickly found me, piercing and suspicious. “This is Anna Avery, new one.”
I resented still being called a “new one”. I’d been around for four months. That should have given me some semblance of respect.
“I wasn’t turned yesterday,” I snapped at Wade, extending my arm to the brawny man. “Nice to meet you…?”
“This is Puck,” Wade said, “and he doesn’t like to be touched.”
I let my arm fall and gave Puck a thin lipped smile.
“I don’t mind the pretty ladies touching me,” Puck drawled, smiling in my direction and holding out his arm. I looked at Wade and he nodded. I clasped Puck’s hand; his so large mine nearly disappeared.
“Welcome to Wild Things, Ms. Anna,” Puck smiled and released my hand. A shiver shimmied up my spine, but I did my best to not let my discomfort show. Judging from Puck’s demeanor, this was a place where weakness would be used against you.
Wade and I stepped inside, my eyes roaming over the small space. The bar wasn’t very big, maybe twenty feet by fifteen. A counter, with shelves full of alcohol bottles behind it, sat towards the back. The lighting was low, puffs of smoke swirling within the soft beams. Most of the patrons were men, with the exception of three women who were sitting at the bar. They were dressed in short skirts or shorts, and their tops left little to the imagination. I caught sight of three doors, all with ‘do not disturb’ signs on them. If I had to guess, I’d say this was a werewolf brothel. My suspicions were confirmed when a couple stepped out of one of the rooms, the man buckling his belt and the woman adjusting her shirt. The man handed her a roll of cash and they both went their separate ways.
Wade walked up to the bar, me on his heels. When he stopped I wasn’t watching where I was going and ran into his back. He looked over his shoulder, a smile growing on his lips.
“What do you want?”
“A screwdriver.”
Wade and the bartender laughed. “She’ll have a shot of your famous whiskey,” he told the bartender. “Same for me.” The guy smiled and poured the drinks, sliding them to us.
“Let’s go over here,” Wade said, nodding his head to the right. He walked over to a table that sat further away from the others, and I took the seat across from him. He threw back the shot, and I did the same. The whiskey sliding down my throat burned, warming my cheeks.
“Ew, that’s some strong stuff,” I said around a cough. “So, what’s this all about? You want to liquor me up and see if I’ll confess to the murders?” I leaned back in my chair and stared at him. Wade was a nice enough guy, but he was also a leader. He may have seemed relaxed, but I wouldn’t let that fool me into letting my guard down.
“You’ve already been sentenced, why would I need a confession?” Wade asked, pushing the shot glass back and forth between his hands. “I just thought you could use some time away from the house. I can tell when you’re trying to be strong, yet breaking inside.”
What the hell was I supposed to say to that? “You can?” I asked with skepticism.
“You don’t hide it as well as you think. It’s written all over your face.”
I looked away, annoyed that he was right. I’d always been a horrible liar. “Thanks, Dr. Phil. I’ll work on it.”
Wade released a heavy breath, raising his arm in the air to signal the bartender.
“What is the Idaho pack like?” I asked nervously. It’d been a constant question in my brain since I heard I’d be shipped off. My punishment may have been moving away from my new family and working as a servant for the rest of my life, but integrating myself into a new pack was what really scared me. Werewolves tended to be suspicious, judgmental, and mean towards wolves they didn’t know. It all boiled down to packs being a tight knit group who stuck together. There were so many different packs we sorta had to be that way towards others. If we showed weakness, the surrounding packs would take that as a cue to ambush our homes and claim the wolves, thus making their packs larger. Not all large packs happen this way, but it’s not unheard of when dealing with the ruthless, power hungry alphas.
“It’s a well-functioning pack of around eighty. The alpha’s name is Ben Jenkins. He’s one of the youngest alphas, and the fiercest. He runs his pack like a well-oiled machine and has bested every man who’s challenged his position. Then again, so has your mate.” Wade winked.
Mate—that word didn’t apply to what Adam was to me. It wasn’t strong enough to describe who we were to each other. Surprise filled me though at learning that Adam was undefeated when it came to fights. I never thought about someone going against him to claim the alpha spot. I guess I was still naïve when it came to stuff like that. I’d never seen anyone go against Adam’s judgment, but that didn’t mean men weren’t secretly vying for his position.
“I thought it was pretty cool how you handed Nicholas his ass last night,” Wade said, interrupting my thoughts. A woman in her forties, wearing a red corset, black shorts and black hose with a lace pattern walked up to our table. She set down two chubby glasses filled with amber liquid and smiled at me.
“You here to interview, honey? You’re hired,” She winked. “With a face and body like that, you’ll be booked for the next year.” The woman, whose hair was obviously dyed blonde, smiled wide, revealing a chipped front tooth.
“I…uh…no,” I muttered, too grossed out at the thought to form a coherent sentence.
“She’s a friend of mine, Ruth. Just here to keep me company,” Wade told the woman, sliding money across the table. Ruth picked the bills up and tucked them into her bra.
“If you ever change your mind,” Ruth said, lying her business card down in front of me. Who knew prostitutes had business cards?
I nodded, at a loss for words. It wasn’t every day I got propositioned to become a lady of the night. When Ruth sauntered away, I started laughing.
“What was that?” I said through a giggle. “Are seedy underbelly places your normal hangouts?”
The thought may have grossed me out, but I could see how alluring a place like this would be to a male werewolf—well any male for that matter. Werewolf men just happened to be a little friskier than the humans.
“It’s part of my job to know the seedy underbelly side of our kind.” Wade smirked.
I wondered just how well he knew Ruth and her kind. I shuddered thinking about it. Wade was a good-looking guy; surely he didn’t need to depend on paid pleasure to satisfy him.
“Let me ask you a question,” Wade said, sitting forward and propping his elbows on the table. “If you’re innocent, then why are you not fighting us on your punishment? You do believe you’re innocent, don’t you?”
“Does it matter?” I questioned. “You guys already have your minds made up. Me throwing a tantrum isn’t going to affect your judgment, right?” I frowned, wondering if maybe I should’ve been fighting more. What logical person would accept being shipped off to a strange new pack without so much as a fight? A normal person might even have thoughts of running away so they weren’t treated like a prisoner for the rest of their lives. Did my lack of argument on the subject make me look guiltier?