Page 49 of The Forbidden Wolf

But hey, at least I didn’t have to deal with Sebastian being disappointed by my disappointment because, apparently, we were just meeting at the venue. I glared at his empty seat as the driver and I idled all alone with each other at 87th Street. Call me old-fashioned, but if a male makes a big show of dumping his betrothed mid-ceremony and claiming her twin sister instead, then he ought to be chivalrous enough to at least pick his new betrothed up for their first date. Sending a fancy rental car was not remotely the same.

Also, I’d spent the afternoon assuming that date equaled downtown, but I found myself getting closer and closer to the Bronx with every passing intersection. Had this all been an elaborate trick to send me back home in the most humiliating way possible? Had he and Kiana struck some sort of deal after I passed out on Monday? Was I about to be unceremoniously dumped on Father’s doorstep so that Kiana could be whisked away to her mating ceremony? And why did that make me feel so violently angry when I knew damn well it was what I deserved for even agreeing to this dud of a date in the first place?

The driver hit the brakes so hard that my head collided with the seat in front of me. I swore under my breath, and he mumbled something under his that may or may not have been a long overdue apology. Rubbing my forehead, I leaned back and peered through the wet windshield at the interesting cast of characters crossing 91st Street. Mostly young and middle-aged males of varying skin tones, but there were a few females mixed in, and pretty much everyone in the group carried some sort of colorful homemade poster.

It took a few blinks for the spots to clear enough for me to see that the tall skinny male leading the way was wearing some sort of hooded fur cape, and his poster was taped not to a stick but a heavy wooden bat propped against his shoulder. As he stepped off the crosswalk and onto the sidewalk, he twisted the bat just enough for the poster to flash my way—KEEP U.S. HUMAN.

My heart rate spiked along with my sleeping wolf’s ears. Deep inside my chest, she lifted her head, our nostrils flaring in unison. I leaned forward to grip the seat that had just attacked me and watched the party drift across the intersection. I counted at least twenty, but it was hard to be sure with all the waving signs and the swishing windshield wipers.

“What’s going on?” I asked the driver, trying to keep my voice neutral because I had no idea if he knew who was paying him for this joyride.

“Human rights rally in the park.” He rolled his eyes in the rear-view mirror. “See one werewolf on the news and suddenly everyone’s best friends.”

“Wait, what?” I grabbed his shoulder without thinking. “On the news?!”

He turned his head to lift an eyebrow at me. “You been in the beauty shop all week or something?”

The light turned green, and I released his shoulder so he could pound on the horn to clear the stragglers. We sped under the light, and I turned to watch the protesters disappearing in the direction of the park. That bat kept flashing behind my eyes, accompanied by a terrible crack. What was that male planning? And why?

“Seriously, what’s going on?” I twisted forward again. “Did they really catch a wolf on camera? I’ve been… on a social media hiatus.”

The driver laughed. “Lucky you. No, no wolf, just a bunch of weirdos running through the park in their scuba suits, all bloodied up, so some genius decided they were shifters. Ooo-ooo-oooo!” He took both hands off the moving vehicle’s wheel to wiggle his fingers in the air like we were magical or something. Then he grabbed the wheel again and shrugged. “I keep tellin’ people it was just a Thriller flash mob, but… folks are spooked.”

I flopped back in the seat and grasped my temples, forgetting all about my carefully coifed hair. My pack had been photographed in their shiftskins. Fleeing the battle, it sounded like. My stomach rolled over, filling my mouth with acid. Did they have my father’s picture? My sister’s?

You mean your twin’s?

Oh shit.

“Hey, it’s okay, kid.” The driver met my eyes in the mirror. “It was just a flash mob.”

“Yeah.” I smiled weakly. “I bet you’re right.”

He held my gaze for a long moment, but I was too freaked out to figure out if he meant to be pointedly reassuring or if he was currently recognizing me as Kiana and plotting how to collect a bounty. Once he looked forward, neither of us spoke another word. I couldn’t seem to stop my hands from smoothing out the folds of my skirt. I hated myself for knowing I would feel safer with Sebastian and all his big dumb muscles in the seat beside me. I hated him for not being the gentlewolf I was promised. Why the hell wasn’t he here?

My anxiety reached a fever pitch as we rolled into the lower part of Spanish Harlem where Jayla had grown up and all my friends now lived. I considered kicking off my heels and jumping out the door and finding them and telling Charlie we had to leave right now, but I knew Sebastian would track me down long before our flight got off the ground. He didn’t want to spend twenty minutes in a car conversing with me on our date, but he would damn make sure I stayed with him forever.

Gods, I really hate him.

You were literally just missing him.

On a muscular level! It wasn’t personal.

Eventually, the car crossed 123rd Street, and I leaned across Sebastian’s empty seat to gaze longingly down the block at the corner of Lexington Ave. Of course, this light was green, so I caught only a brief glimpse of fluorescent light glowing behind the Last Century Cinema’s smudged doors. My heart couldn’t have squeezed more painfully if my wolf had it in her jaws. My friends wouldn’t be there for another four hours, but my fingers itched to unfasten my seatbelt. I didn’t want this stupid fancy date. I just wanted to go home.

I collapsed dramatically onto the seat, burying my face in my folded arms. I didn’t care what the driver thought. He was obviously taking me back to the Bronx, and I couldn’t bear to look at the Third Avenue Bridge and remember that version of Sebastian. The one I’d wanted to claim me and save me from my meaningless life in the Bronx.

A few streets later, the driver made a sharp left turn without bothering to signal. I pushed up on my elbows, grudgingly curious. We darted down 126th Street and whipped around another left corner onto Lexington Ave. I sat up all the way, sniffling and frantically wiping my face. We had turned around. Why had we turned around? My aching heart flipped over. What if…?

No. He couldn’t possibly know about the Last Century Cinema. And I didn’t want to go there with him anyway. What if my friends saw us together? How would I ever explain?

The car made a third wild left turn on 125th Street, and I laughed out loud when I saw the green subway railing outside my beloved corner pizza joint. Was this clown really taking me back the place where we met under incredibly traumatic circumstances? Did he think if we returned to the scene of an almost-crime in formal evening wear, I would suddenly feel the fated mate bond and throw myself into his arms?

The driver cleared his throat as we pulled over to the curb, slowing but not yet stopping. I turned forward, mortified that he expected me to give him money when he ought to be the one paying for damages done to my digestive system. Bright gold bulbs lit up the normally darkened street, illuminating the blinding white marquee of the old Principal Theater. But it was no longer blank. Boxy black letters announced COMING SOON: THE ELYSIAN.

My painted lips parted with a sticky pop as my lower jaw detached from my skull. A tall dark figure stepped away from the recessed doors, their gilded edges now polished to perfection. The empty poster frames along the walls were filled with classics I had never seen at the LCC because I couldn’t sneak out during the week. High Noon. High Society. Rear Window. To Catch a Thief. Dial ‘M’ for Murder. The Country Girl.

The car pulled right up to the awning, and for better or worse, there was my mate, looking like Rudolph Valentino with his burning eyes and slicked-back hair. He had ditched the beard at some point during the day, and a giddy boyish smile curved his smooth cheeks. An obscenely large bouquet of red roses contrasted sharply with the black-and-white tuxedo stretched across his chest.

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