Page 90 of Wind with a Chance of Wolfsbane

The beautiful temptress across the room from him.

Every passage from her journal that he’d memorized came flooding back to him. So did the need to seek out Creepster, whoever the hell he was, and handle him once and for all.

If he didn’t put some distance between himself and Willa, he was going to do something stupid. He could feel it.

In an effort to cling to a shred of control, Jonathan took Marcy by the elbow, plastered a pleasant smile on his face, and physically escorted her toward the front door.

She waved at everyone as they went. “Toodles!”

Willa’s brows met as she watched Jonathan continue to escort Marcy toward the door. Did she recognize him? Did she know he was the man who had helped her outside of the airport? That he was the man who had her journal and her necklace? The man who had thought about her daily for years?

He chanced a glance at Willa, and his wolf seized the opportunity to try to escape from within him. He closed his eyes fast, feeling them burn with the change. He turned his head slightly, keeping Willa from being able to see him losing control. He looked toward the door and nearly lifted Marcy to get her over the threshold faster.

Once they were on the front porch, Marcy turned around and peeked back inside. “Wait.”

“We’ve overstayed our welcome,” he stated, as the blonde did her best to dart around him but failed. “Let’s go.”

“But we can’t leavejustyet,” she returned, bending some, though he wasn’t sure why.

“And why is that?” he asked, his wolf calming marginally with some distance between himself and Willa.

As much as he wanted to turn around and go back into the house, he didn’t trust himself. Craig, Stratton, and Drest wouldn’t be enough to corral him should his wolf get free. Bram could call upon darkness to protect him during daylight hours, much like Dragos and Dracula could, but it taxed him greatly. Jonathan didn’t want to leave his friend in a position of needing to do that and having to hunt him possibly.

Marcy squeaked and lifted Jonathan’s arm. She peeked behind him in a dramatic fashion, much like she was starring in a campy comedy.

“Uh, what are you doing?” asked Jonathan.

She cocked her head around partially to look up at him. “Waiting for my ride.”

“I’m your ride,” said Jonathan.

Craig Van Helsing exited the house, looking a bit shaken. When he spotted Marcy bent, with her head under Jonathan’s arm, he lifted a dark brow. “What’s she doing now?”

“I’ve no earthly idea,” confessed Jonathan.

“Shh,” Marcy scolded lightly as she continued to keep her head where it was.

Craig stayed close. “Uh?”

Jonathan shrugged, trying to remove Marcy from her odd position under his arm.

She was having none of it. Every attempt Jonathan made, Marcy thwarted. Trying to bathe a cat would have been smoother.

Craig laughed loudly.

Jonathan snickered.

“I’m listening to the wind. The trees are whispering over it,” said Marcy as if that explained her odd behavior perfectly.

Craig tipped his head. “Oh, how silly of us to interrupt.”

Marcy eyed him. “Well, if you know it’s silly to interrupt, why do you keep doing it?”

Craig made a stagy presentation of zipping his lips.

Marcy stood fully and patted Jonathan’s arm before adjusting his shirt, much like she was his mother. “There, that’s better. Now, we can panic.”

Jonathan’s amusement faded fast. “Panic?”

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