Page 29 of Bewitched By the Werewolf
“Huh.”
Tess scowls at me and I scowl right back down at her. A truly anonymous source could mean anybody, even a non-human. Perhaps one of the grey skin, pointy eared variety. Considering no one else would benefit from such a scheme.
“That’s it, that’s all you have to say is, huh? You’re not going to tell me I’m crazy and that werewolves don’t exist and call a paddy wagon to take me away?”
“Why would I do that? How would I know if they don’t exist? All I do know is they aren’t here.”
Tess’s expression softens and she pushes away from leaning on the wall, her hands dropping to her side. She wasn’t expecting me to say that. I can only imagine how many times someone has told her she was crazy, when they’re the crazy ones. Tess probably knows more about shifters than most humans, and yet she’s the one who’s sent away and ostracized. Once again, the urge to punch anyone who called her crazy in the face, takes me by surprise.
“Well, I think they are. And I’m going to finally prove it, without question. Then no one will call me crazy.” She mumbles the last part, and it makes me want to reach out and sooth the tension in her jaw and perfect lips. Tess clears her throat and shakes off her unease. “Anyway, is that all you needed?”
I watch her for another long moment, studying her face in a way I haven’t been able to before. This close, without her scowling or smirking at me, I can finally see the apprehension and grim determination lying beneath.
“For now.” I press back from her trailer, giving her the space we both desperately need.
“See ya around,Ryder.”
I love the way she purrs my name. I really shouldn’t, but apparently, I’m not in control of my body or mind right now.
“Yes, you will. A lot. And whatever you did to smell so good,” I say before she can shut the door in my face, again. “I like it. You smell much better now than you did before.”
She pauses and stares at me curiously. Probably completely lost as to why I’m talking about how she smells. I don’t care. I just want to be able to smell her again. She shuts the door, and I haveto take a moment to right myself before I’m able to trudge back to my truck.
Chapter 16: Tess
Ryder thinks I smell nice. All I did was take a shower. I would have thought my nudity would have been more distracting than how I smelled. I mean I do smell nice, I guess. Lifting my arm I sniff my pit, fresh and clean. I don’t like using scented soaps or lotions, at least not when I’m on the hunt. I just smell like soap, nothing special. I haven’t had the chance to apply the odor neutralizer I usually use, he could have meant that. Although he doesn’t know I use it, I suppose he would be able to smell something on me without it.
I watch out the window as Ryder strides away, his long gate eating up the distance to his truck parked on the other side of mine. He doesn’t hesitate starting it up and driving away. My skin is still tingling from his heated gaze. There’s something different about him today. He was still bossy and rude, but there was an undercurrent of—I hate to say it but—desire. Not to say I am not attracted to the sheriff or that he isn’t attracted to me, I could sense it in the way he argued with me before. But now it’sheavier.
My body seems to be all for giving in to my attraction to Ryder. Could be the sassing or his firm ass, either is plausible. His scent isn’t half bad either. I’ll admit my lady parts are very interested in the stoic man and seeing what he’s hiding under his badge. Getting on the local police’s good side would be in myfavor, but that’s not the reason I wanted to pull him by his shirt into my trailer and strip off every scrap of clothing and touch all of him.
Even now, after he’s gone, the sensation lingers. Making me want to follow him, to call him back and bury my nose in his neck and inhale that citrus-woodsy man smell. Sometimes I hate having an acute sense of smell. It makes it difficult to be around crowds filled with too much cologne and body odor. Then there’s times like this when I smell something appealing and it captivates my attention until it’s sated. Sometimes it’s food I have to eat, other times it’s a flower I have to fill my trailer with because the smell is so comforting. Now it’s Ryder’s scent and it makes me want to hump his leg. Talk about pheromones.
Now that he knows—though I think he already did know—my real purpose in town, I don’t need to hide my research from him. Unless he’s a werewolf, he was rather adamant that there aren’t any in Snowberry. But he also didn’t claim they don’t exist. Either he’s open minded, doesn’t care, or is a werewolf.
Sometimes I forget that werewolves have human forms. I’ve been so focused on finding the beast they become, I forgot about the person they are. That doesn’t excuse the things they do in beast form though, they are still responsible for the pain and hurt they cause to others. And whether or not Ryder is a werewolf—a strange thought that doesn’t completely repulse me—I am still determined to find proof. At least to show my family, my parents, that they were wrong. Though I’m beginning to think they’ll never believe me, no matter how much proof I show them. Short of catching a werewolf and presenting it to them in beast form, I doubt it’ll ever be enough. And yet, I persist. If not for them, then for me. I deserve to know I was right.
I sit at my desk and turn on my computer screens, I haven’t been able to sift through all the footage from last night yet and I’m still hopeful I’ll find something. I know what I saw and whatI shot. If I had been more vigilant and less astonished, I would have taken out the camera I had in my bag and used it.
I brush my long red hair and plait it into a single braid over my shoulder as I watch all six cameras at once. They’re playing at two times speed since there’s not much to see other than the stray branch swaying in a breeze. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to spot a giant werewolf on screen even in fast forward.
Hours pass as I stare at the screens hoping to spot a tuft of fur, a clawed paw or tail. Anything. But there’s nothing, except a deer and something that looked like a fat raccoon.Damn it.I was sure I had caught it on camera. We were right in the path but apparently just out of view. Next time I’m mounting a go pro on my shoulder or forehead, even if it looks stupid. I’m not going to miss out on another shot of the beast.
My head drops back against my chair and I spin in a slow circle, staring at the silver ceiling. So close, I was so close. I still am. Whoever that was is still here, they have to be a local. There isn’t exactly a booming tourist industry in Snowberry. I’ll just have to keep looking. Plus, now that local law enforcement knows why I’m here, I can start prodding Sheriff Ryder for information.
And now I’m thinking about Ryder again. Why can’t I get him out of my head? It’s like he’s burrowed his way into my skull like a hungry beaver. Do beavers burrow? I know they make dams and have the cutest front teeth. Either way, he’s in my head and he isn’t going anywhere.
I was impressed he realized I was the one who stole his bag of sand so quickly. I really wish I could have figured out more about the glittery grains. I stop spinning and sit up straight, opening my desk drawer and pulling out the tiny glass vial filled with the silver white substance. It’s barely half an ounce but I couldn’t not keep some for myself. It’s far too intriguing.
I turn the vial over in my fingers watching the powder shift back and forth, a ray of light catching on it causing sparkles to illuminate across my hand like tiny stars. I watch as the light plays across the shadows like it would reflecting off a diamond. Could this be diamond powder? It’s not glitter, and it’s not sand. It’s a strange combination of things and yet none of them. It also serves some purpose to Ryder for him to carry it on his belt next to his gun and handcuffs. He doesn’t strike me as the kind to carry useless things. What that purpose is, I still haven’t figured out.
I already tested it for narcotics and opioids, all negative. It has no smell either. I just can’t figure it out. I set aside the tiny vial, leaving it on my desk in plain view so I might contemplate its composition and purpose some more. It may remain a mystery forever. I’ll just have to accept that. It’s not like I don’t deal with unknowns in my line of work.
Sighing I decide to go for a little walk into town. I’ve spent a good part of the day sitting at my computer and I think I deserve a coffee for all my hard work.
Chapter 17: Ryder
I’ve received my fair share of injuries in my life; broken bones, black eyes, a few knife wounds, and none of them hurt as much as this damn arrow wound. Most were healed within minutes or hours thanks to our advanced healing and fairy dust, but this wound lingers. It stings and is tender to the touch. I’ve used fairy dust on it twice and it seems to be helping but not any faster than Neosporin on a stab wound. It just won’t heal completely and I have no idea why. I still have the black metal projectile that created the injury and there has to be something special about it that I can’t see. Something on it that’s causing this.
