Page 53 of Werewolves Don't Howl
Cross flashed me a look with those intent eyes. What would I do with Nanette’s offhand insult?
I focused on the sapling, relaxing against the wolf as I cleared my irritation. The roots strengthened, thickening as they pierced the earth, down, out, spreading, growing, securing to the earth before it shot up and out, growing, thickening as quickly as I could without losing the balance between the roots and branches.
The trunk was spindly, a quarter inch, as it shot up a foot, then two.
“Thank you,” I said calmly, maintaining my focus with the precision Cross demanded.
She laughed. “You sound like an elf. He really is rubbing off on you. Don’t let him make you too proud. A society reporter has to know how to make everyone else feel like they’re the stars.”
I closed my eyes and felt the tree roots, listened to their hypnotic song as they spread beneath me. I was going to start singing with them in a minute.
“The Senator always keeps me humble,” I said with a slight smile.
She laughed and hung up, leaving me with my work. I sang from my core, a song that wasn’t anything close to as beautiful as an elf or as merry as a gnome, but it was my voice, meeting the tree’s song, and that’s what mattered.
I sang with the perfect tension between my stomach and my throat, working the strings of my vocal cords like the instruments they were. I was.
I felt the tree nudge my knees and opened my eyes to see that the trunk was over a two feet across with branches that stretched two stories high.
My voice gave out. I stayed there, panting, resting my forehead against the trunk while the familiar exhaustion and physical weakness left me limp.
“What are you going to do about the exposé?” Cross asked, resting a hand on my back between my shoulder blades. His strength soaked into me, gentle, warm, filling me with his magic and power as he did after every exercise I attempted. Otherwise, I’d have to wait a week before every training session. He had reserves of strength and power that I’d never dreamed someone could have. And he never fully tapped out. Without his personal assistance, I wouldn’t have been able to achieve more than the barest accomplishments, like singing a flower into fuller bloom, never something like this, turning a seed into a tree in a matter of minutes. I would have said it was impossible before I started working with Cross. He knew what it took to bring out someone’s potential. Basically torture.
I glanced over my shoulder and grinned at him. “What will the bindings allow?”
“Anything that isn’t related to the House of Mercy. Why are you smiling? You must not have worked hard enough.”
I giggled a jolly laugh that was tuned into my gnome. I turned and put my hands on his cheeks. I pressed against his iron will with all the softness and joy I could imbue into that touch. I watched his eyes soften, relax as he was wrapped in an echo of my happiness and well-being. He didn’t have a lot of either on his own. He was most content when he was communing with his garden at night, but that wasn’t very cozy. He needed more coziness in his life, and I’d been force-feeding it to him the way he forced hug-therapy on me.
“I’m just looking forward to my vacation from torture. Bram’s wedding, you know. And then back to work, being a beacon of cheerfulness and contentment to all around me. I’ll have to find a cute apartment and fill it with yarn.”
He mumbled, “You will be safer at my house. I’m still your protector.”
I shook my head, smiling at the adorable elf. He was so soft and snuggly from my gnome magic. He could definitely resist it if he wanted to, but he let me practice on him. When I first started, I could barely give him a buzz of contentment with all of my effort, but now it was almost easy.
His eyes closed, lids relaxed as he gave in to the cozy. Holding that feel-good aura, I let the beast stretch out of my left hand until my claws were curved around his pretty throat. I wasn’t quite touching his skin, and he was still relaxed, unaware of the threat.
“I can protect myself,” I murmured as I caressed his skin with my claws.
His eyes popped open, and the cozy was gone, replaced by cool calculation as he considered his position; at my mercy.
He finally smiled, slow, devious. “And think how much easier it would be to lure the beast if you weren’t hiding behind my walls. We’ll still be dating, as far as your exposé is concerned, correct?”
“You’re asking me? I thought Henrick was in charge of our relationship.”
He slowly slid his hand in mine, the clawed beast palm which was so much larger than his. “Henrick is in charge of my senator reputation.”
“And I’m dating the senator.” I curled my claws around his hand, pricking his skin without breaking it. My beast pushed against me, wanting to come out and take more of him. I relaxed into the beast, using my gnome contentment to flood it with delight at that touch. It was enough.
“Mm. Have you ever considered dating authentically?”
I’d wanted to date the elf I had such a big crush on in college, but there wasn’t anything authentic about him. I pulled the beast back and was left with Cross’s skin against mine, my softness matching his cool, slightly calloused strength. I tugged on my hand until he released it. “Yes. Once upon a time, I considered dating the most fabulous gnome in existence.” I sighed dramatically. “He was jolly, sweet, and obsessed with cheese. Obviously the perfect man. But alas, it was never meant to be. I went to college with a broken heart, sure I would never love again. And here I am. A triad of unlovableness to this very day.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Cheese?”
I snickered and stood up, tugging him up with me. “But here I am, part of an assassin’s guild, where everyone is as unlovable as me. Misery loves company, so we can all be miserable together.”
He stood too close, so I had to crane my neck to look up at him. “I’m not miserable when I’m with you.”
