Page 53 of Perfectly Petite Shorts
The path was far from a straight line. I stuck with it and found myself in front of a closed door. I’d been in there a hundred times with Wendall. It was the storage room. But I didn’t have Wendall and his hands to open the door right now. It was made of some type of slick metal I couldn’t climb. I looked around, going up on my back legs and seeing what was available. If I could just get a little higher, I could use my tail to turn that foolish knob.
My toes dug into the wooden floor, scratching as I reared back and wailed. No one heard. They were all in the main area of the bar, laughing and having a good time, completely unaware of the danger lurking behind the door.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” A smaller body folded beside me, hands and knees against the concrete floor. “What’s got you all riled up?” Dillon’s brown fur flopped around his face. “Hey, Ruthie, somethin’s up with Trinket.”
Dillon’s younger sister sank down beside me on the opposite side. “Hi, Trinket. Do you need some help?”
I pranced with joy. The Voss children were my perfect accomplices. Going up on my back feet, I furiously scratched at the door again.
“You want inside?” Dillon asked. “Why?”
I wailed my frustration. I just needed the door opened.
“Does it matter?” Ruthie asked as she stood. Bless her dire wolf heart, she reached up, twisted the knob and the door swung open.
Not waiting, nose to the ground again, I dashed inside. Snuffling sounds filled the small space. I followed the scent to the corner. Boxes lay on the ground below several layers of shelves. The scent went higher, and I jumped on the closest box, maneuvering my way up the irregular path.
“She’s tracking something,” Dillonsaid. “It’s just like we do when we’re in the woods and scent a rabbit or deer.” Excitement colored Dillon’s words. “What have you got, Trinket? Is it a mouse? Or maybe a rat?”
Earthly vermin weren’t the problem. Besides, I’d taken care of those foolish creatures months ago. I shook my body. It was the only thing I could think of to convey this was something far more serious.
“Have you got it cornered?” Dillon didn’t understand my body language and still thought what I was after was as benign as a rodent.
Swift movement above drew my attention. My leap was pure instinct. Scrambling for any traction I could find, I took off after the skeet. Boxes fell, tumbling to the floor. The distant sound of glass breaking didn’t break my concentration. The skeet ran across the wall, its skin changing colors and blending into the background as it headed for a small hole in the wall near the ceiling.
My claws dug into the wall as I launched myself ever higher. Near the hole, the skeet turned and hissed before it slipped into the small hole. A scream tore its way from my throat. I would dig through the wall to get to the little menace!
“What in the…? What in the Goddess’s name is going on in here?” I didn’t stop when I heard Johnny’s irate scream. “Trinket! Get down from there.”
A firm yank on my tail destroyed all my earlier efforts. Flipping midair, I twisted and snapped at Johnny. I was running on instinct, and Johnny was keeping me from my prey.
“Don’t you fuckin’ snap at me, missy.” Johnny let go of my tail, his hands fisted on his hips as he stared down at me. I’d landed on an overturned crate.
Shame filled me. Johnny was part of my tribe. He was to be protected, not bitten. And Iwastrying to protect him. I was trying to protect everyone. They simply didn’t understand. I chittered out an apology. Johnny’s shoulders relaxed,but he became tense again when he looked around the wrecked storage room.
“She was just chasing after a rat.” Dillon tried to defend me. “I think she had it too. Almost.” Dillon’s lips thinned as he stared up at the hole in the wall. “I think I heard it hiss or something. Do rats hiss?” I wasn’t certain who Dillon was asking.
Johnny’s body deflated as his gaze tracked the mess my hunt left behind. “I’m gonna have to tell Leon, who’s gonna have to tell the boss, that we need to reorder a lot of liquor. I can’t say that’s gonna go over well.”
Ruthie scooped me up, and I wrapped my tail around her small arm. “She really was after something.”
“I’m not questioning that,” Johnny said. “I’m just upset about the method. Trinket caused a lot more damage going after the thing than that rat would cause on its own.” Narrowing his eyes on me, Johnny pointed an accusing finger. “And you know what happened the last time you dug a hole in the wall while going after something or other. We had to replace the whole damn wall. I told you then not to do that again, and if I hadn’t walked in just now, you would have done it again.”
I opened my mouth, wailing that he didn’t understand. This wasn’t a rat; it was a skeet, and they were a lot more dangerous. But Johnny didn’t understand, and there was no way to make him suddenly hear me.
Johnny waved his hand. “You three get out of here. I’ve got this. Just try not to cause any more trouble. We’re all here to celebrate Wendall and Ray’s bonding. Try and remember that.”
The reprimand hurt, and I swore I could hear the skeet laughing from behind the wall. I was determined to make sure it wasn’t laughing for long.
Skeet Annihilation!
“I do not understand this bonding. Why would anyone want to give away such a precious possession?”
I glanced up at Aurelia. She wasn’t hiding this time. I noticed there were a lot of times where I could see her, but no one else seemed like they could. It was another oddity where Aurelia was concerned.
Instinct told me Aurelia was dangerous. Power didn’t leak off her. Her magic was tightly reigned in. It was like when a human shook a soda bottle. The pressure built inside, just waiting for a release. Aurelia was like that. But she’d saved Wendall. And not just saved him but made it so he could be with Ray forever. I wasn’t sure if Aurelia was part of my tribe. I think Alpha Voss and King Moony felt the same. No one knew where to place her.
“Mates are more important than any possession,” Dillon answered with authority, his arms crossed over his chest and small chin jutted out. Dillon was an alpha in the making. He’d make a good one if he followed in his uncle’s footsteps.
