Werewolf Wedding Read online

  As we both laughed, I vaguely realized that the living room crowd had gone silent. The only sounds I could hear from out there was Steve Harvey’s pleasant droning, though I could only make out a few words, I knew it was him. Greta noticed the same thing. She stiffened, and held my hand tight.

  “Something’s not ri—”

  A tremendous crash of glass, an explosion of noise, cut her off. Immediately I remembered my dear mate’s grand entrance to Jake and I’s date, and with my heart about four sizes too big, and lodged in my throat, I stood, trembling.

  “You stay,” Greta said, insistently. “He’s dangerous, I won’t have you being hurt.”

  I shook my head, and gently – but firmly – pulled my hand away from hers. “He might be dangerous, but I know how to keep him from erupting.”

  “Where’s my damn mate?” Dane roared from the other room. “Which one of you sons a’ bitches took her? Bring her to me now!”

  I can safely say that was the first and last time that all I wanted in the world was to hear another one of Steve Harvey’s family-friendly-with-a-twist-of-naughty jokes. That’s probably unfair to Steve. I’m sure he’s a very nice man and he seems warm and friendly. At that second I would have choked a grandma to have him yelling in the living room instead of the horror made flesh who was actually there.

  “All right!” he barked. “Keep her from me and we’ll see what happens.”

  The first casualty was a vase that I recognized as having come from a flower delivery service, but the next was an entire bookcase. Then a curio cabinet fell, and instead of getting righteously pissed like I would have, Greta just pursed her lips and shook her head. “Why does it always have to be the cabinet?”

  She didn’t even flinch at the next thrown vase that claimed a mirror’s life. She tried once again to catch my wrist and stop me as I made my way across the wonderfully quaint, country-style kitchen and presented myself in the doorway to the living room. When Greta realized she wasn’t going to stop me, she hissed, “Be careful!” and I nodded that I would. “His influence will make you think you’re out of control – you aren’t!”

  Sure enough, as soon as I saw those blazing eyes, and those towering shoulders, my stomach got that familiar squiggle and my will waivered. Every shred of my being wanted to run to him and let Dane – my hero – take me away from all these crazy people conspiring against him. But then the part of me that still had sense, heard Greta’s words reverberate through my mind. He had no control over me. All he could do was make me think he did.

  As I walked toward him, unsure what else to do if I wanted to avoid a big scene, it occurred to me that someone like Dane was probably just enough of an arrogant prick to think he really could control other people through sheer force of will.

  I faked like my steps were shambling and unsure. I played like I couldn’t look away from Dane and his admittedly beautiful eyes, and like my mind wasn’t my own. “Dane,” I whispered, putting on my best helpless victim voice. “I’m... I’m yours. No one was hiding me.”

  He gave me a once over, then held me at arms’ length for another examination. “She didn’t do anything to you?” He was speaking softly, as though he was afraid of Greta overhearing him. “No, uh... funny ideas?”

  I forced myself to look as vacant as possible – just how he likes his women, apparently. “No, sir,” I said, averting my eyes to look bashfully at the ground. “Nothing like that. She just showed me pictures.”

  It was the most innocuous thing I could think to say when he put me on the spot, but apparently, it wasn’t as innocuous as I thought. Dane grabbed my wrist, painfully tight, and twisted a little. Everyone in the living room who had previously been hooting for someone to say ‘pecker’ on national television all stared at him. More than a few mouths were agape, and almost all the eyes were wide open.

  Dane’s eyes flashed and he curled one corner of his mouth into a grimace. “What pictures?” He twisted again for emphasis.

  “Ow!” I squealed. “I don’t know, just some family photos of all of you guys together doing family things. She didn’t tell me anything, we just talked about enchiladas and how I make ice sculptures!”

  Which was partially true, I suppose, if you left out all of the other things we talked about. The whole time it was in the back of my mind that he had no idea that I wasn’t completely under his control. So, naturally, he just assumed everything that came out of my mouth was the truth.

  He grunted softly, and went back to physically examining me. Neck, hairline, inside my cheeks, while everyone around looked on with increasing discomfort. One or two of them – it was hard to tell how many exactly from the way he had me locked down – were starting to move toward us. I wondered if we were going to become a big scene right there in the middle of family dinner.

  “Can, uh... can we stop?” I asked in the softest voice I possibly could use. “It hurts.”

  I must’ve hit exactly the right note between deference and begging. He released my wrist, drawing his hand back dramatically, like he just touched the side of a hot Dutch oven and recoiled in pain.

  “Sorry,” I murmured bashfully, making sure this big, strong man knew he was in complete control of hapless little Delilah. Shooting a glance at Greta, I caught her watching me. She flashed another almost imperceptible smile and went back to the kitchen. “Dane?” I made him face me with a little pleading in my voice. I was just about on the cusp of making myself sick from turning into the female movie archetype I hate the most, but when he looked down at me, completely and totally fooled, it was all worth it.

  I took his hand and tugged him toward the door. “You’re so strong,” I said, hoping I wasn’t laying it on too thick. Although with this guy, I’m almost certain that no amount of slathered on ass-kissing or false deference would ever be too much, just like mayonnaise on a chicken sandwich. “I can’t believe I have you to take care of me.”

  He looked around with such aplomb and swagger that I could smell the Axe Body Spray wafting off his muscled frame, and from his sure of himself smile, I thought he might be trying out for a cosmetic dentist commercial.

  There it was again, I thought. The same tic that he acquired when his stepmother had intimidated him – the little twitch in the corner of his mouth that made his cheek jumps lightly, there it was again. And then again as he looked at me, there it was. He couldn’t stand what was happening. The fact that he’d lost control of himself, that he’d showed emotion that was something other than John Wayne bullshit... he couldn’t handle it. Or maybe it was that as soon as he was no longer making a big, loud, violent scene, everyone just kind of stopped paying any attention to him?

  I’ve known a thousand people like Dane, who seem like the biggest bad ass on the planet, but as soon as they have to face some uncomfortable reality or another one, they immediately lose the ability to do anything except either get unreasonably angry, or make callous jokes.

  “What are all you slack-jawed hicks staring at?” he began, much louder than necessary. “Never seen how a real man handles himself?”

  I could have rolled my eyes so hard they would pop out the back of my head and keep right on going. Instead, I kept my composure for the sake of staying alive and keeping my friends safe instead of indulging in my favorite hobby of sarcasm. “They just don’t know, Dane,” I said, trying to keep my snacks from earlier in my stomach instead of on the carpet.

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding smugly as you please. “Everyone that does know already left. The rest of you sheep,” he paused, looking around. “I’d rather not have you on my side when it all comes down.”

  Creepy Charlie Manson vibes notwithstanding, I could see how the weaker-minded of his cousins or... whatever they were, would fall for him. Dane had a powerful way of speaking, a booming voice, and that attitude that just screamed that he didn’t give a shit – how could he, since he was always right?

  Of course, I knew his tells, I knew better than to think he believed his own bullshit. Or
at least, I knew better than to think he bought all of his own bullshit. I’m sure he was definitely feeling himself on most of it. Greta was watching through the small service window between the kitchen and formal dining room, rolling the hem of her sweater back and forth between her thumb and forefinger so hard I was surprised the fabric hadn’t frayed.

  As I was watching her, Dane snatched my wrist again, yanking me toward the door. “Come on, girl,” he hissed. “We got better folks to deal with than these ignorant hobos.”

  I didn’t quite understand what that was supposed to mean, and from the looks on everyone else’s face, neither did they. Once we were back on his obnoxious motorcycle, I plucked a helmet off the back seat’s post, which he immediately knocked out of my hands. “You don’t have any brains anyway,” he sneered. “What the hell good is that gonna do you? Keep you pretty, I guess.”

  I nodded and just sat, wondering what was going to happen next. I didn’t have to wait long. I began to recognize the turns we were taking and the overpass exits he chose. “We’re going to Jake?” I asked.

  “What better way to announce our mating, and my idiot brother’s complete and utter subjugation than by sending his ex-girlfriend to tell him the good news?”

  I was chewing my lip so hard I thought it might bleed. The only good news, I thought, but dare not say, is that I’ll get to see Jake. He’ll know what to do.

  -15-

  “I’m so, so, so tired of this.”

  -Jake

  “No. I’m not changing my mind. I made a deal with Dane, and I’m sticking to it. I can’t live without her, George, no matter what I said before, he got me and he knows it.”

  Jake put the phone down on his desk and pushed his fingers into his temples so hard he was slightly afraid he’d punch through his skull. Ever since he’d promised the world to Dane, he’d had a headache. Somehow, he had chosen not to see the connection.

  The voice on the other end was chirping so loudly he could still hear it even though the receiver was ten feet away and he was batting at golf balls as he threw them up in the air, one after another. White, dimpled orbs thunked against the wood paneling, and one of them hit the portrait of his dad and his red-nosed golfing buddies. Wonder how many of them knew he bayed at the moon every so often and ran around that same golf course buck naked at night to hunt squirrels? And what the hell am I doing?

  As Jake realized that he was becoming his father way too early, he tossed the putter harmlessly to the ground. It landed with a muffled thud on the thick, cushy red rug.

  “You can’t!” the voice on the phone was high pitched, obnoxious, and Jake was concerned, had caused his headache. “The pack, Jake, the pack needs you.”

  “So does the company, huh?” he shouted at the receiver on his desk.

  “Pick up the phone,” the voice said.

  “George, good God, my head hurts and you’re yelling at me,” Jake protested. His voice was growing stormy and thunderous.

  The phone went dead. About two minutes later, she strolled right into his office. “Your head hurts, and you’re an idiot who is trying to turn his back on all his friends.”

  Jake sighed very heavily. “If you don’t think I’ve—”

  “Oh, I know,” she said, a little mocking twist in her voice. “Trust me, I know. You just want to get away from it all, right? You’re tired of living a life you never asked for?”

  He shrugged, feeling a little sheepish at her surgical dissection. “I guess I—”

  “My entire life has been helping your pack. Why?”

  Jake shrugged.

  “Because I stumbled into it when I was nineteen fuckin’ years old, and you guys became my family. Aside from Jonathan and the kids, you guys are all I have. Remember how we were friends our whole lives and then my parents died? Remember how at the beginning of high school your dad took me in? Remember that?”

  Big hands with black hair on the backs lifted off a desk in a defensive gesture. “Okay, okay, I—”

  “Nope, not done yet,” she said, picking one of the golf balls up off the floor and hurling it at Jake’s chest, although she missed.

  “Good thing those are tempered,” Jake remarked as the ball bounced off one of the windows. “All I want is for me and Delilah to be—”

  “There’s a laugh! You think so little of her that you honestly believe she’s going to not care about you turning your back on everything? I’m sure she’ll be really happy on the run from your crazy fucking brother and... oh wait a minute, wait just a minute.”

  “What?” he took a step forward, then one back.

  “You actually think he’s just going to keep up his end of the deal, don’t you? You’re actually that much of a dingus.”

  “I don’t... dingus?” Jake chuckled. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “Cute,” George said with a sneer. “Real cute. What happened to all your big shot talk about duty and honor and all that bullshit? That’s all it was, huh? Just bullshit. When life gets tough, just shrug and give it all up?”

  “Are you sure you and Dilly haven’t been talking?”

  George didn’t answer. Pointedly, she didn’t answer. Instead, she went straight to tugging on the curl of dark hair that normally fell right in front of her ear.

  With werewolf speed, Jake was on her. He stiffened a single finger and drove it straight into a place between George’s eighth and ninth rib and jabbed her furiously.

  “Ah!” she squawked, trying to throttle her laughter. “No! No! Ah God! Okay fine, fine, yeah. Stop!”

  He gave his finger one more twist for good measure, digging deeper in her ribs. “Did you say something?”

  They’d done this since they met. She’d taunt him with something, he’d tickle her until she started crying a little, then she’d relent and tell him whatever it was he wanted to know. It really is no wonder everyone always thought they were a thing. George knew better than to get mixed up with werewolves though.

  “Quit!” she writhed around, managing to catch Jake in the side with one of her pointy, bony elbows. “Let go!”

  Laughing at her struggle, and hurting in his side a little more than he expected to, Jake finally released his iron grip on his friend’s wrist. They were both breathing hard, both red-faced. “So,” he said, with as much composure as he could manage, “you and Dilly?”

  George sat down – flopped more like – on the reclining sofa. She let out a huge exhale and crossed her arms over her stomach as she stretched. “I really do love this couch,” she said.

  Jake stared at her. If life were slightly more cartoonish, he’d be tapping his foot or drumming his fingers on the desk.

  “It’s so soft, you know? But at the same time...”

  He growled.

  “It’s soft, but...”

  He growled again.

  “Oh, fine!” she threw her hands over her head. “Yeah so we talked. What’s the harm in that? Your future wife, my future... uh... I dunno, friend in law?”

  “Wait, what? When?” Jake asked.

  “She called up here last week asking for you. I figured there’d only be one woman calling for you, and took a stab in the dark.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Forgot.”

  Jake shook his head. “Anyway, sister is more like it,” Jake said with a grumble. “I’m closer to you than anyone else in my damn family.”

  “We pick our friends,” she said, getting up and patting him on the shoulder. “Our families are just carefully crafted sets of problems. At least when it comes to werewolves. I’ve never understood one thing – and it’s the same thing Dilly didn’t get.”

  “Which is?”

  George bit her lip, trying to find the words. “Well, like with humans, if – just as a for instance – my brother decided to abandon the family for five years, go on a murder rampage across half the country and then come back to take over all the family’s assets?”

  Jake arched an eyebrow. “Go on.”
>
  “How blunt do you want me to be?” she asked, still chewing her lip. George wasn’t afraid of him by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn’t exactly insensitive when it came to pack business.

  “Has it ever mattered?” he asked.

  She thought for a second. “Yeah, well fair enough. To be blunt about it, we’d just tell him to fuck himself and go on with our lives. People don’t do that to people they care about. And if they do, it’s because they either think they can get away with it, or they’re some kind of pathological assface.”

  “Wow,” Jake said, his face going blank. “Assface. Is that a technical term? Maybe some kind of psychiatric diagnosis I’m not familiar with?”

  George pursed her lips and stuck her fists into her hips. “You know what I mean. If someone treated my family like that? The only thing they’d get if they decided to show up again is a restraining order.”

  He began to pace. He always paced when something was bothering him, but this time the big werewolf’s head was hanging. Where he stepped, his bare feet either plopped against the marble floor, or left off-color streaks from pushing the carpet down. He was nodding, slowly, which to most people would make him look a little crazy, but George knew this was just how he processed information.

  Jake glided over to his father’s desk, lifted one executive ball clacker ball, and let it snap into the others. He stooped over, elbows propped on the desktop, and watched the balls. At first just his eyes moved back and forth, back and forth, but soon his head was tilting in time with the silver orbs. A million thoughts were going through his head, although only on two subjects. First of them was Delilah. The second, his brother.

  “I don’t think a restraining order would do very much against Dane and the pack idiots who think he’s some kind of second werewolf coming.”

  Inadvertently, George snickered and snorted for a brief second before regaining her composure. “Sorry,” she said.

  When Jake shot her a look, she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “You said second werewolf coming,” she said apologetically. “And I’m a child.”