Page 71 of Werewolves Don't Howl
The timer on my phone went off. Right! The news broadcast. I grabbed his hand, dragging him into the living room so we could watch my exposé unfold. I gestured at the large tv I didn’t know how to operate. “Turn it on, please.”
It came on like it was voice activated.
“Oh.” I glanced at him, and he smiled at me. “Um. Channel four, please.”
It switched channels and there was the theme song for the national broadcast station. I grabbed his hand and tugged him with me to the couch, holding it with both of mine, too tight, too hard, but unwilling to let go.
“Is it that bad?” he murmured, squeezing my hand back. “I’d better call Henrick.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. I’m just nervous. It’s my first exposé!” I kept staring at the screen while the lovely reporter started talking about celebrity news. Finally, the first picture popped up. The senator was sitting on the floor in a pile of yarn, knitting terribly. I was leaning over his shoulder, fixing his hands, and he was smiling. Not a cool elven smile, but a genuinely delighted smile as he tried to hold his needles right and not tangle the yarn.
The article was done well by one of the most charming news anchors in the world. She was good, delivering the story of the wonderfully warm senator and his recently affianced…
“What did she say?” I asked, grabbing his arm in a death grip and squinting at the screen.
“You’re my fiancé? That’s unexpected.” He was also frowning, but at me instead of the screen.
“Why would she say that? That’s not what I wrote.”
“Well, it makes it more sensational, I suppose.”
“But when my wolf comes out, you’ll have to be on the girlfriend after the girlfriend after me. If we’re engaged, that makes it more difficult to break things off cleanly so we can remain good friends afterwards.”
He studied me for a long moment, then reached out and brushed my hair away from my face. “I’ll have Henrick fix it.”
“But she’s a professional. She wouldn’t make a mistake like that unless…”
Zephin Clay. But why would he change that detail, and nothing else? Didn’t he want to date me? Then why would he link me more tightly to the senator? Or maybe he was a diabolical monster who transformed into a beast and murdered random baseball players for the fun of it.
I got up and rubbed my forehead, which was throbbing miserably. “I need to go to bed.”
“You should eat first.”
I shook my head and gave him a wan smile. “I don’t have an appetite anymore. I’ll have some tomorrow. Do you mind putting it away for me?”
He frowned as he studied me until he finally gave me a slight smile and a gracious nod. “Not at all. Rest well, Delphinia.”
I woke up from the dream with a pounding heart, sweaty limbs tangled in my sheets. The dream was so vivid and intense, the pain, the humiliation, being this horrible out-of-control monster in a cage, injected with the poison that ripped me apart over and over again. He held me tight when things got truly unbearable. He kept me alive with his affection more than anything. I feared and hated him, but I needed him.
I didn’t want to see Cross. The thought of it made me sick, terrified, but I needed to see him more than I needed to breathe. My whole body and soul ached with the need for him. When I was little, I had horrible nightmares about the monsters in the woods coming for me. My dad would read to me his big botany book until I calmed down. Cross was an elf and could read to me like my father. That logic clicked. I could ask him to read to me, to be the researcher elf.
I got up, wrapped my bright knitted blanket around my shoulders and left the pool house. The night cast strange shadows on the water, turning it into a silver oasis, while the wind sent the leaves skittering above me.
Every step was a struggle. My skin kept shivering and shifting, triggered by the fear, the memories of pain, and the aching need for Cross’s arms around me to make everything all better. The backdoor was unlocked, the handle turning easily in my hand, but the hall was long, the house dark and still. He was sleeping. I shouldn’t disturb him, not when he’d had to suffer the humiliation of my family so recently, not to mention the unexpected engagement, but I needed him to chase away the fear, to be the person he was instead of the monster he’d been. I needed him now, like I’d needed him in the cage, to hold me and keep me through another endless night. I would die without him. The wolf in the back of my brain whimpered from the aching. It hurt so much.
I went up the stairs and got to the door of his bedroom, tracking it by scent. He smelled of woods, books, and danger laced with vanilla yogurt. Was he eating in bed? How shockingly un-elven. I stood there for a long time while the fear and need gnawed at me. Everything that terrified me but that I still desperately needed was on the other side of that solid oak door.
I stood there for a long time, the aching coming up against a wall of Elven reserve. An elf didn’t interrupt someone’s rest. My feet got icy, my fingers stiff curled around the knob when it turned and there was Cross, standing in shadows my wolf eyes could pick apart easily enough. He’d been sleeping. I could smell sleep heavy on him, but when he saw me, his eyes cleared as he came fully awake.
“Delphinia.” His low voice sent a shock of relief and pain through me. He was everything I’d been aching for, but also everything I hated. He was everything.
I almost sobbed, because I wasn’t all right, but at the same time, there wasn’t anything real that could get me here. I pressed my lips together for a moment while I willed my racing heart to calm. “I had a dream from that time before. I shouldn’t have woken you up, but I wondered if you could do me a favor.” My voice was trembling, weak.
“Anything. You dreamed about…” His brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure if mentioning details would be worse or better.
It would be worse. I spoke quickly, my words tripping over each other from my nerves. I was facing my old enemy, but he was also someone I could trust. “My father used to read to me stories when I couldn’t sleep. The woods of Elysia was his favorite. Do you have it?”
His brows rose. “The woods of Elysia isn’t a storybook. It’s a botanical guide. I suppose that would put anyone to sleep. You’d like me to read to you?” he asked, sounding uncertain.
