Page 63 of Werewolves Don't Howl
He carefully put his coat over my back, his touch so gentle, careful. “Elves are heartless and cruel. Do you need a hug?”
I looked up to glare at him. “No. I don’t need you to get your suit dirty coming down to my level. I don’t need the cruel, perfect, pretty, delicate elf to condescend to the messed up, disgusting monster you made me when you wouldn’t let me die.”
He pulled me into his lap, sitting on the dirty boards with me pressed against his chest, his head bent over me as he stared into my eyes. His eyes were dark, intent, his killer mask in place. “Cruel, absolutely. Delicate, not remotely. And you are so far from disgusting, the idea is laughable. You, Delphinia,” he murmured, brushing my cheek with his fingertips. “Are absolutely delicious.” He smiled slightly, a dangerous smile that made me gasp, and then he lowered his lips to mine.
The shock of contact went through me like lightning, but instead of pulling away, I wrapped my arms around him and dove into that kiss, into his strength, the taste, the feel of him, like he was a new skein of cashmere yarn, only better.
He tasted woodsy, how you’d think an elf would taste, but with this sweetness that was maddeningly addictive. I pressed against him until his back thumped against the wall of the stall as he lost his balance, and then we fell over sideways onto the pile of straw. I whimpered as the movement tore my barely healed flesh.
“Delphinia, are you all right?” he asked, trying to straighten away from me, looking concerned.
I stared up at him while my heart pounded. He was my protector. He would try to protect me from everything, even the wounds in my heart. Although the literal ones too. He couldn’t really want me. It wasn’t possible, and yet, I needed to feel wanted.
“Cross, can you pretend to want me for a while longer?”
“I am officially, unduly provoked,” he said, and then he picked me up and placed me squarely on the pile of straw on his jacket and then he covered me, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me with his whole soul.
It was the perfect meeting of two mouths wrapped in a tangled embrace, hunger and passion sweeping away all the hurt and misery, drowning me in bone-melting pleasure. I was lost in him, completely, absolutely, deliciously lost, when the light came on, and someone cursed.
I wrapped my arms around Cross’s neck and held him tight. Maybe whoever it was would go away.
“The blood trail leads here,” Bram said in a low voice. “Do you think it ate the ponies?”
Cross stayed very still on top of me, and then his lips moved to my jaw, and then the side of my neck, and my eyes fluttered closed while the sensations drowned me.
Penn answered, “No, they’re still here, sleepy, fat, oblivious.”
“If it really got Delphi…” Bram’s voice was tight. Penn didn’t answer while I fought with the guilt, thinking that my brothers were worried about me, but my dad had shot me. I’d tried to explain, but no one wanted to listen. If they were really worried about me, they wouldn’t shoot.
Cross’s lips found my shoulder, which had no annoying fabric blocking his delicious mouth. His hand smoothed my arm while his lips moved back up to my neck. I shifted underneath him, rustling the hay until I froze.
I couldn’t hear Bram or Penn. Had they left the barn? They’d left the light on. I was starting to relax when the stall door burst open and I found myself facing down another gun, but Bram was holding it this time.
His eyes widened in shock, and Penn grabbed the gun, moving it away from us.
Penn started to smile. “You’re okay? Did you hear that there was a werewolf sighted at the wedding? Dad shot it, but… You don’t care. You two crazy lovebirds.” Penn tried to shut the door, but Bram hit it, knocking it back open.
“What’s wrong with you, Delphi?” he grumbled, hands on his hips as he glared at me, Cross, and me again. “You’re just going to stay there in that position? Don’t you have any decency?”
I looked up at Bram from my position covered by Cross who had one hand beneath me on my back, no doubt to put pressure on my bullet wound, and also, to keep my brothers from seeing that I wasn’t wearing anything but his jacket. I rose up on my elbows and Cross shifted his weight off me while he studied me, a question in his eyes. The look in the elf’s eyes was more intense, more bare and soul-wrenchingly real than anything I’d ever seen in him before. He didn’t care that Bram was there, or that we’d been caught in a compromising position, or that the world was burning and everything was lost. He wanted to know what I wanted, whether to proclaim that I was a werewolf, or if I wanted to use him to help them believe I was the same sister they’d always known. Whatever I needed, or wanted, that’s what he would make happen.
My heart thrummed, and I felt like I was burning, filled with an unquenchable fire that would devour both of us.
“You left in the middle of the ceremony,” Bram continued, sounding hurt. “Is it morning sickness? Did this pasty pansy get you knocked up? If he did, you’re getting married yesterday.”
I winced. “This is ridiculous. Cross, I need to tell them the truth.”
“No, you don’t. They don’t deserve the truth.”
I smiled at him and touched his cheek. He was so pretty. “Bram, Penn, I’m a werewolf. My beast came out during your wedding, and that’s why I left. I’m not pregnant with Cross’s baby.” So humiliating to have to say that out loud, although who would blame me? Not my mother, that’s for sure.
Bram’s face was kind of humorously shocked. “You’re not a werewolf.”
I tapped on Cross’s shoulder, and he finally rolled off me, leaving me in his jacket and the tattered remains of my dress.
“Delphi, your dress! What did he do to you?”
They weren’t going to understand unless they saw the wolf staring them in the face. I shifted into my adorable wolf and climbed out of my dress. I hopped on Cross’s lap and snuggled against his chest, trying not to notice the way my brothers were staring at me, their faces going various shades of purple as they worked through their extremely strong emotions.
