Page 13 of Werewolves Don't Howl
“The pretty elf? How can you tell which are pretty when we all look the same? You think that he infected you somehow? Perhaps he injected you with werewolf saliva. That would do it.” He nodded solemnly.
“Elves don’t all look the same. Why would an elf infect some random girl? I’m not powerful enough to be a threat, and most people actually like me. I’m very likable.”
“That must be coming from the gnome. An elf would never be proud of such a thing.”
I poked his muscular arm. “You’re likable when you want to be, just not around me. Why is that? I’m naturally what you pretend to be around other people.”
“You’re too agreeable. If I were as likable as you, then the combination would be intolerably sweet. Can you describe this pretty elf a bit more specifically?”
“He had very short hair, buzzed so you could see the perfect sculptural qualities of his skull. He looked like you, only thinner, smaller, less powerful.” I eyed his shoulders. “You’re quite large for an elf.”
“And you are quite large for a gnome. Perhaps we’re both werewolves.” He frowned at me. “Mr. Clay was there? Why was a media mogul at a college party?”
“He’s a huge benefactor of the school. My parents know him, so it was an easier sell to get my parents to let me go off into the big bad world if it was at a safe school like Songbird.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “It should have been safe, but it wasn’t. There is no safety in the world, which is why we must always…”
“Look for the good in everything. You can always find the evil if that’s what you’re focusing on, but you can also see the good. And life is much better with the one rather than the other.” I beamed at him and handed him a brownie. “So, thanks for letting me stay in your lovely pool house. I’m going to go and enjoy it right this second. You don’t mind if I use the pool, do you?”
“You may use anything you like,” he said with the warm enthusiasm you’d expect from an elf, as in none at all.
“Perfect. I don’t have a swimming suit, but I do have some extra yarn in my knitting bag that would probably be just enough for a bikini.”
He stared at me, shock rolling over his lovely features. “You’re going to knit a bikini?”
“Is that strange? It’s the gnome in me. You’ll have to get used to it. Of course, you could always evict me, but I’m far too adorable to throw to the wolves.”
“Mm. Don’t get sunburned,” he said, leaving me in the kitchen by myself, carrying his noxious drink away with him.
“Gnomes don’t burn,” I called after him.
“Elves do,” he said over his shoulder, gave me a small shake of his head and then continued out of sight.
The bikini was a bit shocking, but not because it was knitted. I wasn’t accustomed to following that particular pattern and found that I needed to unravel the top pieces a few times while I adapted a stitch that I wove with magic that would hold me up as well as a serious underwire bra. Gnomes tended to curves, and elves to planes, which made me somewhere in the middle. Planes were so much easier to fit, but when I finally tried it on, I was pleased with the suit even if I wasn’t so sure about myself. I knew what beautiful gnomes looked like, and elves were always beautiful, but I was both and neither. Not round and sensual, not tall and elegant. I didn’t even have the lean, athletic musculature of a werewolf. Oh well. Senator Silverton wouldn’t be in the pool.
He wasn’t, which was a good thing, because the knitted fabric immediately stretched out, so I had to use quite a few spells before it remained in its proper shape. My decency was not assured during that time of adjustment, but eventually, I could focus on floating and swimming around, enjoying the natural pool, lined with rocks and plants that fell into the water, making it feel more like a lake than anything manmade.
“You’re burning,” Senator Silverton said from the side.
I was floating on my back when he said that, lazily keeping my body up while I soaked in the sunshine. His pool was so wonderful. It didn’t stink of chlorine, just life and sunshine. I needed to pay him back somehow for all of this.
“I feel fine.” So fine. So wonderfully perfect.
“Mm. Are you going to the fund raiser this evening?”
I finally let my legs float down so I could look at him standing on the edge in his elegant tuxedo. He was stunning, naturally. The fund-raiser for the charity hospital was something I’d been looking forward to covering, but it was hard to want to leave the pool and face the rest of the world. Max was going to be so furious when he caught up to me. I’d disobeyed a direct order, and he couldn’t let that kind of thing go, however little he personally cared about what others thought about him. It would make problems for him and his pack if he didn’t maintain order and enforce those orders. I sighed heavily, stirring the heavy water with my hands. “I don’t have anything to wear. It would take me too much time to knit a dress for the occasion.” Did he think my knitted bikini was weird? Of course it was weird, but this whole situation was not normal. I mean, I was living in the Senator’s pool house, for crying out loud!
“I ordered some things in for you.”
I stared at him in shock while horror and embarrassment washed through me. “What do you mean, you ordered things for me? Like clothing? You, Senator Silverton, ordered clothing for the poor unfortunate you couldn’t help take in? Tell me you’re joking.”
He blushed slightly. Had I ever seen an elf blush before? I felt suddenly vulnerable being below him and dressed in so little. I swam to the side and pulled myself out, then grabbed the fluffy enormous pool towel and wrapped it around myself before I turned to face him. He’d walked up to me and was examining my cheeks and shoulders.
“You’re definitely burned. I suppose you’ll stay in then with some aloe on those.”
I pointed at his still-pink cheeks. “Maybe I’m just embarrassed that my unwilling landlord, who isn’t getting any monetary compensation out of this arrangement, felt like he needed to clothe me. I have clothes in my apartment. I’m not entirely penniless. Maybe you’re just worried about being seen with someone who isn’t wearing haute couture. Don’t worry, I have no intention of being with you at events. You can call up Forsythia and ask her if she’s available. I’m sure for you, she’ll be very available.”
He raised a brow. “I’m a public servant whose life is to serve the poor unfortunates. As for the clothing, it was Libby’s idea, not mine, once she heard about your apartment.”
