Page 20 of Wrestling With Werewolves

Dirk leans forward, resting both forearms on his knees, blue lips turned up in a wicked grin. “Yeh’re drowning in males, Louanna. If I were the jealous type, I’d come save yeh, but as it is, I’m gettin’ a little hot around the collar.”

She snorts, and the gnome on her shoulder rolls his eyes.

The tiny male turns to Lou and pats the side of her head. “Come on, Lou. Based on sheer chance, you’ll hit it any try now.”

Lou gives him a withering look but turns to the lane with an axe in her hand. Other gnomes clamber all over her arms and legs. One even jumps up to sit on top of her head, shouting directions as she lifts the axe. We all hold our breath as she lets out a battle cry and throws the axe down the lane.

Like the last ten times, it misses the target by a solid two feet.

She lets out a frustrated shout and grabs the gnome on top of her head around his middle, yanking him down to look into his eyes. “Maybe I could do it without a bunch of dudes crawling all over me!” She turns and gives Dirk a meaningful look that has me laughing out loud.

He grins back at her. “If you wanna know what it’s like to have a male all over yeh, Louanna, I am up to the task, any day, any time.”

I snort and grab my fifth taco, lifting it to my mouth.

Dirk looks over at me. “What’d yeh snort for, Princess? Yeh don’t think my chances are good?”

“Not with those corny lines,” I tease.

“Thank you!” Lou shouts, setting the gnome male carefully on the ground. The others hop off her and gather together, grumbling about how terrible she is at axe throwing. They disappear into the busy bar as Lou rejoins us, sitting next to me and avoiding Dirk entirely.

Chocolate eyes find mine and wrinkle in the corners. “I heard you’re a musician, is that right? My niece, Morgan, said she saw you give an amazing concert in one of the other havens.”

My throat constricts at the memory of my last public appearance. I take a bite of the taco to avoid immediately answering.

Lou places a careful hand on my knee. “I’m sorry, Lola. Is music a sensitive topic?”

I shrug as I force the bite down, looking between my new friends. For some reason, I feel like I can talk to them about what happened. I start at the beginning and give them the highlights, and, by the end, Lou sputters indignantly.

“Girl, you better get on that bar and do a repeat. You know you want to!”

Dirk rests both muscular arms on the back of the bench seat he’s on, one navy brow curling mischievously upward. “Do it, Princess. Daddy isn’t here to see yeh, and I promise we’ll give yeh a standing ovation.”

My fingers twitch with the need to play. I play every day at home, but I haven’t had two seconds to myself until I got to the treehouse. Even then, I was more worried about checking on Leo and letting Lupe know I’m alright. I stand before I can talk myself out of it.

When I glance at the bar, Richard’s bright eyes are focused on me. He grins and points at the bar, giving me a questioning look.

When I nod, he beams and turns to grab my guitar.

Here goes nothin’.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER - RICHARD

Big Daddy has been silent since Lola joined Dirk and Lou for axe throwing. Thankfully, Bad Axe is busy tonight, or else I’d have been checking on her constantly. Something about her draws my attention. I don’t mean to be staring at her when her obsidian eyes find mine. She beams when I point to the bar, and when she indicates she’s intending to hop on it, joy fills me.

Big Daddy shows up. Please, for the love of fucking, let her hop on our bar.

Stop, I command.

Make me. His deep, challenging growl raises the hair on the back of my neck. I don’t know how to navigate this, but I resolve to invite Vikand to the leadership meeting tomorrow to see if he’s got any ideas. I can’t keep going with this constant irritation.

Then fucking listen, he snarls again. Am I the only one with my head screwed on right?

I don’t answer that, turning to grab Lola’s guitar. I set the soft-sided case on a clear section of the bar as she strolls up. She’s lit from within with excitement. Her joy is palpable.

“Thanks, Richard,” she murmurs, her voice scratchy. She unzips the case and pulls out a stunning turquoise and pale green long-necked electric guitar.

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