Page 58 of Werewolves Don't Howl
“Congratulations, Cross! You won the good manners game!” I kissed his cheeks, first one and then the other. “Come to the car with me to get all the stuff. We’ll be back,” I said, dragging Cross out of the kitchen, past my dad who was looking at my hand gripping his wrist.
“He can handle whatever I say,” my dad said in a low voice, slightly amused.
I bristled at him. “Of course he can, but he shouldn’t have to. Come on, Cross. Don’t say anything, just look pretty.”
ChapterFifteen
The hayride was magical, rolling through fields while flocks of startled fireflies flared up around us and the stars fell overhead. My brother had wanted his wedding on the biggest shower of the year, just so the hayride would be magical without using any magic.
I was sitting next to Cross on the bench, holding the reins because he had no idea how to drive the ponies that pulled our wagon. We’d dropped off the last little kid and were heading home when I nudged him.
“Your dad’s an elf lord? What was my dad exiled for?”
“Yes, and using his magic unethically.”
“My dad used his magic unethically? Impossible. Now I know you’re lying.”
“He went through a rough patch after he lost his family in the great war. His magic is still bound.”
“You really believe that. Unreal. Tell me more about your elf lord father. And mother. Did you really run away from home? Why did they let you go? Aren’t elf children precious and rare?”
“Yes, I don’t know, and yes.”
I squinted at him while the ponies tugged on my reins. “If you didn’t want to talk about your origin story, why did you give my father your real name?”
“It’s traditional to do so when courting. I could have given him another name, but it would have to be somebody’s, and my looks, my size, they are distinctly Silvaniustro.”
“Now you’re a traditional elf? Then why can’t you drive a pony cart? Come on. You can’t go through your life not knowing how to do something so essential.” I handed him the reins and the ponies immediately stopped moving. It’s like they could tell they were dealing with a novice.
“Now what?” he asked.
I looked up at him and then at the ponies. “Now, we get out and stretch our legs. Do you know the dance of the fireflies?”
“You’re messing with me.”
“Maybe. Still, the ponies are going to sit there being fat and lazy until we show them that we don’t care.”
He raised an incredulous brow. “This is the psychological warfare you wage each time you take a pony?”
“Basically. Come on, Cross. Oh, make sure to apply the brake on the wagon wheel, or they’ll take off once we’re immersed in the dance.”
He sighed and then followed me down, fiddling with the wagon wheel for a moment before he came towards me where I bent over in the field, taking off my shoes.
“Do I have to take off my shoes?”
“Only if you have a secret streak of gnome. So, the dance is a basic Elden Flawry, which if you’re really an elven lord, you would know. Of course, there are some differences, but not really noticeable for the male.”
“That’s a lot of lifting you up and throwing you in the air.”
I laughed and spun around like a gnome-elf who lacked grace and earthiness. “I can tell this is going to be a disaster. I always wanted to have a disaster in a beet field.”
“Indeed,” he said and then threw a handful of dust into the air, and suddenly, everything was music. The rush of wind, the shifting ponies and the creak of leather, and all the glorious fireflies, everything was in perfect time that matched the beating of my heart.
I stared at his shadowy form as he started moving, grace, beauty, and danger as he turned then took my hand and pulled me into the dance. My father wasn’t ever forceful, but Cross’s dance wasn’t the same as my father’s or my brother’s. His hand held mine with a firmness that moved into flirty territory as our palms slid together and apart.
The picking me up and throwing me didn’t happen. He picked me up by the waist, raising me up high, but instead of continuing the arc, he stopped when we were eye level and held me like that, my pounding heart against his chest, his hands pulling me against him far too tight.
“Did you forget the dance?” I whispered when it seemed like I’d been staring at him for too long.
