Page 18 of Howling Mad
We talk a while longer, drifting to pack gossip, her research into old wolf genealogies, and my father’s friction with the alpha.Aunt Eleanor glances out the window.“The official gathering starts soon.We can linger here, but eventually, your father will notice.”
I shrug.“He can notice.I’m not in a rush to be cornered.”
Aunt Eleanor winks.“We’ll go in late.Let him stew.”
That’s exactly what we do.By the time we wander back to the lodge, the formalities are underway, which are a mixture of speeches and displays of dominance.My father stands near the front, scanning the crowd.His gaze lands on me, and a flicker of disapproval crosses his face.I stiffen, bracing for some passive-aggressive remark later, but I remind myself of what Aunt Eleanor said.I can’t let him dictate everything.
The rest of the evening is as painful as expected.Wolves ask me stilted questions about “human finance” or throw barbs about how real wolves prefer physical labor.I keep answers minimal, ignoring their thinly veiled jabs.
My father approaches me, his gaze intense.“Michael, are you ready to move back home and step up for the pack?”
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady.“Work keeps me in the city, Dad.It’s complicated.”
His expression darkens and his frustration is clear.“Your priorities are all wrong,” he mutters, turning on his heel and storming off.
Eventually, Aunt Eleanor winks at me from across the room, a silent signal that it’s safe to slip out.I do so, feeling raw from all the scrutiny.I return to my car, tossing my duffel in the trunk.It’s late, and I’ll get home later still, but I won’t stay here overnight if I can help it.The lodge glows behind me in the rearview mirror, a place that should feel like home but doesn’t.
I pass the old territory sign, exhaling in relief as I leave pack land behind.The sense of oppression lifts, and I press the accelerator.The city lights lie ahead, a couple of hours away, and my father’s demands fade from immediate focus.Aunt Eleanor’s advice resonates.If I want to be with Finley, I shouldn’t let the pack’s expectations hold me back.
Chapter 7
Finley
MyfingerhoversoverMichael’s contact, my heart fluttering as I rehearse what to say.I’m not sure he’ll be willing to try again, but I’ve found someone who might actually be compatible.Talia is a refined wolf-coyote hybrid.She’s a professional flautist and appreciates culture.She seems perfect for Michael on paper.
I take a deep breath and dial before I lose my nerve.
“Michael Thornton speaking.”His voice sounds tired and strained at the edges.
“Hi, Michael.It’s Finley from Romance Expected.Is this a good time?”
He pauses, and his tone softens.“Finley.Yes, actually.I could use a distraction.”
“Rough day?”
“Rough weekend.”He sighs, the sound crackling through the connection.“I just got back from the pack compound, and a full day of condescending comments about my career, thinly veiled disappointment, and constant reminders that I’m failing mywolf dutyby living in the city.”
My chest tightens with sympathy.“I’m sorry.Family gatherings can be brutal.”
“My father spent the entire time parading eligible pack-approved wolves in front of me.One actually asked if I’d considered therapy for myhuman fixation.”The bitterness in his laugh makes me wince.
“Charming.My mother once smuggled an alpha’s son into my apartment under the pretense of delivering homemade stew.”
His genuine chuckle warms me from within.“What happened?”
“Let’s just say he discovered that not all female wolves submit easily.He left wearing most of the stew.”
Michael laughs fully this time, the sound making my wolf stir with pleasure.“I would have paid to see that.”
A comfortable silence falls between us.I’m reluctant to break it, to shift back into professional territory when this connection feels so natural, but that’s my job.“I’m calling because I may have found a promising match for you.”
“After the last two disasters?You’re optimistic.”His tone is teasing rather than accusatory.
“Fourth time’s the charm, right?Her name is Talia Westlin.She’s a coyote-wolf hybrid, who plays professionally for the symphony.Her instrument is the flute, and according to her profile, she’s cultured, educated, and appreciates fine dining and jazz.”
“Sounds sophisticated,” he says cautiously.“No environmental manifestos or hidden recording devices?I can’t rule out allergies until I meet her.”There’s a hint of embarrassment in his voice when he says that.
“Zero activism or corporate espionage.I promise.Just a wolf with refined tastes who specifically requested someone, and I quote, ‘who understands that civilization and wolf nature aren’t mutually exclusive.’Maybe take a Zyrtec before you go,” I quip.
