Page 63 of Howl You Doin?
He snorts, and the action is so out of character from what I know of Frank Stein. “Odette told you that, I assume?”
I nod in response.
The witch queen warned me after I first discovered wolf packs and mating, and what it all meant. I, of course, foolishly assumed I was one of them because of how I was turned. What a fucking joke.
What if she’s wrong, or I assumed wrong?
“Odette isn’t infallible,” he murmurs around the rim of his glass, before he takes a drink. “I also wouldn’t trust her. I continuously try to tell you all, but none of you want to listen to reason.”
Yes, well, that’s because he thinks he’s an ultimate level-headed man of reason, when really, he’s a chaotic nuclear bomb waiting to go off. Trusting him would be like holding a grenade without a pin and hoping it didn’t go off.
I cock my head at that. “Worried for me, Frank? I would be touched if I thought you were capable of giving a shite about someone other than yourself, you fucking psychopath,” I say to get away from the conversation of mateship. “Why are you even still here? I’ve already told you I don’t know who hacked Talbot, and I have checked every guest. No one here even has the capabilities.”
“Testy, testy. Does our mutt need a muzzle?” he says with a laugh, eying me like he can see right through me. He stares at me over the rim of his glass. “You know... even after all these years, you’ve still never truly shared what Odette did to you.”
I frown at the change of subject, surprised he even gives a shit.
“What you’d expect, I assume,” I answer. “Weeks of hell, followed by a series oftests.”
Pain. Indescribable pain is all I remember of my turning, of being made into the monstrosity I am today. Memories of my bones cracking, then displacing entirely and growing at an alarming rate cause my skin to crawl with unease. The witch queen’s magic is known to be the most potent in the world, but even magic comes with a price, and the price is painful.
“Typical Odette then,” he replies, gesturing for the brandy bottle.
I grunt in response, hand it to him, and watch as he pours another glass of the dark-brown liquid. He also fills mine, which is out of character for him.
If it hadn’t been for the witch and Vlad, I would have died.
I wanted to, even as they saved my life. A common nobody from the outskirts of London turned monster by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. After a while, I learned how to tolerate the pain.
Frank, of course, wouldn’t know. There are no files in existence of my formation, and he was created long after I was bitten.
Magic, while potent, is rarely not without pain, not when bending the human body.
My stomach growls as my brow creases, the sound reminding me that I didn’t eat earlier. The cravings I have to be near Whitley are far greater than my want of sustenance apparently, which is damning. I’m also worried if I go into the kitchen, I’llbend her over a counter and bang her brains out with how she’s turning me into a twisted, horny loon.
“I suppose you would know being her favoredson,” I dig, fully aware of how Frank despises Odette.
He leans against the mahogany desk, orange blazing in his eyes as the insult lands.
The only thing Frank hates worse than humans and losing money is to be reminded of his origins—of how he was made, not born.
He glances around the room and nods. “Careful, Connor. Now that you have something precious to lose, perhaps you will see things my way.”
“Are you threatening me, Frank?” Shit, has he caught onto my relationship with Whitley more than I thought?
I swallow nervously and pick up my drink.
“As surprising as it is, no.” He waves a large hand, gesturing at the room. “I want to see how this plays out. I like what you’re doing here, and I think I would like to see more.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline, and I blink for a few seconds longer than I would like to admit. I would have been less surprised if he commented that he was going to change the sky to red tomorrow for funsies.
“Pardon?” I ask, surprise hitting me when I realize he’s talking about the hotel and not Whitley. The last we spoke of it, he detested the idea.
“Your method of integrating Vlad into society, while entirely idiotic, has potential.” His usually deadened expression turns almost human for a second when excitement flashes in his gaze.
I stare at him in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
He clasps his hands together and my suspicion grows. “Imagine a safe place for the supernatural to live among humans without fear of discovery. The castle would be perfect, especiallysince you only host a handful of guests at a time until you have one of your little events.”
