Page 73 of Werewolves Don't Howl
I had to get up before I passed out. I had to…For a few seconds I lost consciousness, before I came to with a lurch. I forced myself up and slid towards the edge of the bed.
He wrapped his arm around my stomach. “Stay,” he whispered, voice weak but still perfect, pulling me back against him, into his warm embrace.
I closed my eyes while feelings fluttered against my ribcage. His voice was so beautiful, even though it reflected the damage I’d done to him.
“I should go.” My voice was so soft, breathless, helpless. Could he even hear it?
“I need you to protect me while I sleep.”
Oh. Because something else could possibly be so effective at staking him to a chair. Clearly he was more than slightly unhinged. I should definitely leave, run as fast and far as possible, but instead, I closed my eyes and soaked in the feel of him. I’d run away later.
ChapterNineteen
His name was Charles Linton, and he owned thirty percent of the electronics manufacturers on the east coast. He had excellent taste and therefore couldn’t possibly let me walk away from him until he’d charmed me into giving me his number. He’d also dressed as a shrimp.
I held onto my smile with the skill I’d honed to a keen edge for fifteen years. Unfortunately, I’d gotten out of the habit of subjecting myself to self-important bores in the last few months.
We stood on the promenade above the sloping lawns and the grassy central space where the performers frolicked. Zephin Clay had pulled out all the stops. It was a verifiable circus here, but tasteful, everything bedecked in heady roses while the fire dancers and dancing bears spun and twirled in carefully controlled abandon. The light flickering from sconces lining the promenade added to the feel of carefully orchestrated wildness.
“As the most beautiful woman here, you must know that no man could resist you,” Mr. Shrimp said, looking pointedly at my cleavage.
I followed his glance down at the deer costume that wasn’t any more revealing than his shrimp outfit, which revealed a great deal of leg. He’d been following me since the train, where he’d sat across from me, telling me all about his business acumen while I tried to be polite because his costume was so embarrassing. That was a bad move. Then again, I deserved to be tortured by the shrimp after what I did to Cross.
I’d woken up in his bed without him this morning, and spent the rest of the day trying not to think about him. I was clearly successful considering the way I kept looking past the shrimp towards the bridge leading to the shadowy train station as guests arrived, searching for the tall silhouette of my landlord.
He’d said he loved me.
I shook my head and focused on the familiar form of Letitica Marin and gave Mr. Shrimp a bright smile as I cut off his long-winded lecture about how smart he was to be able to value my beauty in spite of my apparent lack of expensive jewelry. He was a treasure, to be sure.
“I see an old friend I must greet. Enjoy the evening,” I said before slipping around him.
He grabbed my arm and spun me back to him, a frown on his thin face. “Before we’ve danced? I’d be a fool to let you go.”
“You don’tleta woman stay or go.” Cross stood behind me, melting out of the shadows, looking more lethal than he usually let the senator appear. “Particularly when she’s engaged to a very possessive man.” He slipped his hand around my waist and over my stomach exactly like he had last night, and then bent to press a slow, lingering kiss to my neck.
My heartbeat skyrocketed, while goosebumps ran over my shoulders and arms. He was here. Finally. And he’d said he loved me.
“I b-beg your pardon!” Shrimp said, still holding onto my arm. “She isn’t wearing a ring.”
“Do you want him to hold on to you, my love?” Cross murmured, lips brushing my ear in a way that made me shiver deliciously. I melted against him, forgetting about the rest of the world as he wrapped me in his arms.
It felt like he loved me.
“Like I said, she is otherwise engaged,” Cross murmured, smooth as silk and twice as deadly. No, more than twice, because silk wasn’t very deadly, unless we’re talking about strangulation with silk cords. Doubtless, Cross could manage to kill this person in hundreds of ways with silk. I take it back. Deadly as silk was one hundred percent correct.
Shrimp finally dropped my arm, but his face was twisted into a disagreeable scowl as Cross spun me away from him. Cross kept his strong arm around my waist, but stepped to the side so we could walk more comfortably along the promenade beneath the rose garlands and flickering torches.
“Imagine running into you here,” I said, sounding breathless and idiotic, like I’d been swept away by the most romantic figure imaginable.
He’d said he loved me.
“I think that it was a spell,” he said, voice intent, with a hint of threat that made me shiver. Maybe it was the feel of his hand over the thin fabric of my dress. He wasn’t handling me the way a standoffish elf should. He was being possessive, protective, and aggressive. My wolf liked it so much. Fine. Even my elf thought it was hot. He’d said he loved me even though I’d staked him to a chair.
“The shrimp costume?” I asked.
“The fear spell. The anger spell. The beast spell at Bram’s wedding. You’re being targeted. It could be unrelated to the monster and Lynx, but it’s statistically unlikely.”
I sniffed as I glanced at him in his wolf mask that made him look more dangerous than usual. “You took the time to run statistics? You’re such an elf.”
