Page 27 of Werewolves Don't Howl
“Silverton,” I mumbled, still too relaxed in the delicious healing spells to speak clearly.
“Mm.”
I smiled slightly. That was his favorite response in the whole world. It was a universal response. ‘The world is ending!’ ‘Mm.’ ‘Your tuxedo needs to be taken to the dry cleaners.’ ‘Mm.’ ‘My beast wants to gobble you up like a cream puff.’ ‘Mm.’
“Silverton, my beast wants to gobble you up like a cream puff. I think she’s going to stalk you.”
His answer was surprisingly eloquent, considering I’d expected a non-speak elf-grunt. “That will be difficult, as she’ll be living with me. Also, I’m nothing like a cream puff. I’m more of a dark chocolate brownie dipped in moonlight.”
“How do you dip chocolate in moonlight?”
“That’s another word for white chocolate.”
“Mm,” I murmured and then giggled. He definitely wouldn’t get the joke, but I was having a hilarious time. His magic must have some properties that dulled pain and gave everything a glow of happiness. In other words, he was drugging me. I giggled again.
“You may shift now into your best healing form,” Silverton said, straightening up and letting the magic sparkles fade from sight. They were still in his eyes, though, sparkles like an entire universe contained in those mysterious depths. They looked indigo in this light. How absolutely mesmerizing.
“But then I can’t make jokes.”
He smiled slightly and rested his hand on my forehead. “That is a tragedy, but somehow we must bear it. Please shift, Miss Era. I look forward to seeing you healed as quickly as possible.”
“So you can use me as bait more easily?”
“So I can assuage the guilt I feel after a member of my household was brutalized so thoroughly. I understand that werewolves subject each other to this kind of pain, but I dislike it almost violently.” His slight smile mixed with his violet eyes to give me an understanding of what it would look like if he were violent. It would be absolutely beautiful.
I nodded and closed my eyes, shifting into my adorable wolf. I curled up on the bed as well as I could with the splints that had shifted with me. Magic splints? How expensive.
Silverton rubbed my head and flopped onto the bed next to me, draped a hand over his forehead, and promptly fell asleep. Maybe he’d fainted. Either way, I curled next to him and closed my own eyes, because there was nothing nicer than dozing and cuddling with the prettiest elf in the world.
I woke up to the senator ruffling my fur. “Miss Era, I’ve left some clothing here. Please shift and then come inside when you’re ready.” He opened the van door and went out before I could properly look at him. I nosed the slacks and blouse stacked beside me and then shook off my lethargy, shifted back to human, and quickly pulled everything on. It was new, but everything fit perfectly.
When I got out of the van and went into the house, I found Mossy in the kitchen eating an enormous bowl of ice cream sprinkled with cold cereal while the kitten pounced after a ball of red angora yarn that I’d left in the pool house.
“Lynx!” I scooped up the kitten and snuggled her while she purred and nuzzled my neck. “Such a good kitty. Do you need a treat? Of course you do.” I went to the fridge and fished out a chicken. I broke off bits and fed them to the kitten while Mossy stared at me.
“So, you’re a werewolf,” she drawled.
A shock of horror flashed through me before I retorted, “And you’re a coward, so that wasn’t a clumsy attempt at blackmail, was it?”
She grinned and stuffed her face with another bite of cereal-covered ice cream. “Nope. Just glad you’ve got an inside scoop on this Ridley case. The Nanny’s going to go ballistic if you don’t get something handed in before eight.”
I blinked at her, then at the clock. Six thirty in the morning? I carefully put Lynx down with more pieces of chicken on a tea plate, then I grabbed my bag with its laptop, put on my glasses, and sat at the breakfast nook and wrote the most salacious, grabby copy I could come up with. The gist was that Ridley, of the Golden Pack, had come to Singsong City for mysterious reasons that may have something to do with rival pack warfare. Was it murder, or an inter-pack outbreak of violence? Was it a solo incident or the first of many such conflicts to come? I wrote the tale the way that Loren would have written it if she couldn’t come up with any solid leads.
“Read it for typos,” I told Mossy, slumping back.
She went over it quickly, corrected a few cases of commas and one outright typo, then nodded at me. “So, what happened after the hot alpha grabbed you?”
“I’m not talking about Max.”
“Ooh, you’re on first name basis with the hot alpha?” She raised her brows mischievously.
I was still incredibly exhausted, injured, and just wanted to go back to bed. Not that I’d been there recently. I sent the email. “I’m going to bed. You should go home too.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “Don’t you mean you’re going to go shower and bake cookies and then take them to the bi-annual Bouquet Brunch?” She batted her lashes at me while my heart sank.
“I don’t have anything floral to wear.” Women had to wear florals. Men wore floral ties. They literally wouldn’t let you in without a floral print. Also, I didn’t want to go. I desperately didn’t want to go face polite society when I’d been rolled through a meat grinder last night. Werewolf super healing was one thing, but you didn’t heal from broken legs that fast.
“Of course you do,” Silverton said, coming in and straightening his floral tie. I stared at the incredibly tasteful thing that was more abstract wallpaper in green and cream than an actual traditional floral.
