Page 50 of Werewolves Don't Howl
He nodded, but didn’t smile. He wasn’t the sort to smile, to exercise his facial muscles nearly as much as the senator. “I can direct you to your room if you’d like.”
I hesitated. “Actually, would you mind answering some questions?”
He stiffened up. “I’m not at liberty to disclose anything about our order.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Not about the order. Finally, someone sensible enough to not offer their services to assassinate somebody! It’s about being a werewolf. I’ve avoided werewolves for fifteen years since I got turned, except for that time I hunted down a pack and killed them all.” I winced. “Sorry, too much information. Anyway, I wondered if I could ask you some questions about controlling the beast.”
He nodded slightly. “I was also turned, but my mate helped me through the transition. You didn’t have anyone to help you?”
I shrugged. “Just Cross, but he didn’t stick around once I wasn’t actively turning. That is, he unlocked the cage, and I ran. I probably should have stopped to ask some questions, but I wasn’t in the right head space.”
He stared at me blankly for an extra beat before he blinked. “Cross thinks he knows everything because he can read, including transitioning a werewolf.”
“Well, it worked. I did transition, and for a half-gnome, I guess that’s something.”
He spoke slowly. “That’s something, all right. You want to know how to control the beast? In what way?”
“Every way,” I said, gesturing broadly. “In situations like that, with the dead girl attacking Cross, I need to be able to think through it, to hear Cross when he tells me he needs her alive before I rip her apart.”
He rubbed his thick beard. “Huh. Well, there’s no way to do that without actively training your beast in combat situations. Instincts will only take you so far, and they will always lose your fight for you against someone with control.”
I sighed as I thought of the Alta, handing me my patchy pelt. “Yeah. I definitely have that experience. I also need to be able to lose against someone I don’t want to displace. I don’t want to be the next Alta Manada.”
“No? I don’t blame you. One thing. If I train your beast in combat, you’ll also need magical training. That half-gnome, elf, you’ll need to work those pieces of you along with the beast, or the beast will end up being the dominant one in your triad.”
“Triad?”
He shrugged. “Training in the House of Mercy isn’t casual. You should think about it. Cross has time before the next political season, so you could spend it here, putting the pieces together while he does his real job, but you’ll have to talk to him about it. See whether he’s okay with you being trained in his House without being one of his soldiers. Unless you want to join…”
I stared at him, my stomach twisting at the thought of killing intentionally. I’d done that before, but it had been so futile. I’d killed the wrong wolf. Not that he wasn’t evil, but did he deserve to die?
“Right. That’s a good point. I guess I was thinking that it would be an easy five-minute lesson or something, but of course it would take more than that to get my beast in a rational state of mind.” I groaned and put my head in my hands. “I’m so stupid. Sorry.”
He exhaled a long breath and put a warm hand on my head. “Not stupid. Overwhelmed. Most people who come here for the first time are terrified. Instead of wasting time on fear, you’re asking to be trained. That’s smart.”
“Harold, what are you doing?” Cross asked, walking down the hall towards us, his frown directed at his hand on my head.
He patted my head again before he withdrew his hand. “Talk to him,” he said to me before he turned and walked away without answering his fearless leader. I watched him walk away and then had to look up at Cross, craning my neck annoyingly because he was standing too close to me.
“Talk to him?” Cross repeated, frowning at the top of my head which was so visible to him. He smelled like my beast, and she loved it.
I took two steps away from him. “Tomorrow at breakfast, if you don’t mind.”
He smiled sharply. “How mysterious. I will try not to force information out of Harold in the meantime.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he needs to practice resisting torture. You’re so good at it.” I turned and walked away, but the second I was around a corner, I shed the white coat and shifted into my adorable wolf, running down the hall and around legs until someone opened a door to outside, and then I leapt out, escaping my fate until tomorrow. Maybe I’d keep running and never stop. A humming let me know before I stuck my nose into the paralyzing invisible wards that surrounded the compound. I couldn’t escape unless I put some serious effort into it.
No. I was done running and hiding. I needed to master the beast, and I couldn’t do that unless I faced it.
In the morning, Henrick found me curled up under a bush, and after giving me some lovely sausages, he led me to my beautiful bedroom suite in cream and sky blue.
“Time to get ready for Photoshoot day.” He winked and wiggled his dark brows, sharp teeth white against his green skin.
It started in the breakfast room, which was all flocked paper and blue china, with the table tucked in a bow window that overlooked a pond. A swan glided by outside the window. No, this wasn’t ridiculously over-the-top at all.
“You didn’t sleep in a bed last night,” Cross said as he sat somewhere between a lounge and a sprawl, buttering an English muffin. He looked like an indolent Elven prince who knew how to relax, not manipulate countries from the shadows. I tried to focus on the swan instead of Cross, but he was even more ridiculously over-the-top than the live backdrop.
“This is what you eat for breakfast? Too generic. Henrick can do better,” I said, collapsing on the chair opposite him.
