by Molly Harper
I thought that I would love going months without speaking to anyone, but I thought it would come across as anti-social if I said so. “If I ask more questions about music, can we come back to that?”
He chuckled. “Sure, but I would like to talk about you.”
“I’ve had twenty-four years and I have never worked on a ship, fought in a war, or dug up anything interesting. My life is pretty quiet, boring really.”
“You’re a werewolf,” he countered.
I burst out laughing, and Dick seemed to relax ever so slightly.
“Not a very good one, ask anybody,” I snorted. “So, is it difficult, getting students here? We don’t exactly have a symphony orchestra in the Hollow.”
“It took some time for the parents to get used to the idea of a vampire teaching their children,” Alex said. “But it helps that there are so few instructors in the area for string instruments. They don’t have many options. If they have the interest and they don’t want to travel to Nashville or Louisville just for lessons, they come to me.”
He pronounced Louisville all wrong, calling it “Lewisville,” in a way that would make most locals mock him. But he was so earnest about it, I just didn’t have the heart to correct him.
“Music teaches focus, discipline, patience, cooperation. Not to mention the studies that show how involvement in the arts improves a child’s academic performance. I wish those had been around when I was a child. Children need that and I think their parents recognize it. And I’m told it’s much more interesting to put on your college applications than the recorder.”
“Having attended a few recorder concerts for my younger cousins, I can confirm,” I said, shuddering. “Did you realize my niece and nephew were werewolves?”
He shot me a confused smile. “Of course, I did.”
“And you still taught them?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t I? They’re eager to learn, well-behaved, and they have talent. That’s what I set out to do, to teach children who want to learn.”
I smiled, reaching out to press my fingertips to his hand. I didn’t know why of all the things he’d said, that touched me the most. Maybe it was that if he could be so open with the kids, that he would accept me, too. Or maybe it was just nice to meet someone who was kind for no reason other than they wanted to be.
He cleared his throat. “So, enough about me. You work in social media for people you’ve never met? That seems as foreign to me as a music school must seem to you.”
“I was a little bit of a grammar stickler in high school,” I said. “And after high school. Most of my life, really. Combine that with computer nerdery and you get this job.”
“This is going to sound somewhat rude, but when you speak…”
“I sound like an extra on Justified?” I suggested.
“I’m not sure what that is,” he admitted.
“I’m only strict about grammar for the written word. Verbally, I’m a little closer to my roots,” I said. “It’s one of those ‘do as I write, not as I speak’ things?”
“Oh, one of those,” he said, nodding before grinning widely.
I nodded solemnly. “It’s a classic conundrum. Anyway, I can’t imagine starting something like a music school or a restaurant, but I love being able to help someone find the right words to help them market their business.”
“But you’re also growing your own business, which is just as important,” he noted.
“That’s a good point.’
And on and on it went. It felt like I spent hours talking about myself, the books I’d read, the places I wanted to travel, non-traumatic childhood memories. I hadn’t been on a date that hadn’t been arranged by one of my relatives in so long that I’d forgotten what real “date conversation” sounded like. Alex didn’t care about my family or who they were or what they could offer him. He didn’t ask me what I could cook—which was good, because the answer was “not a lot.” I had serious doubts that he cared about my pack or my bloodline. He wanted to talk about me, what I liked, what I read, what I thought about interspecies politics. It was almost exhausting talking about myself that much, but a) no one ever asked me about those things and b) he was very good at dodging questions—in a way that could have been suspicious if he wasn’t so good at appearing engaged and curious.
My phone buzzed. I glanced at my laptop screen. It was almost midnight. Nearly three hours had gone by and I hadn’t even noticed! Dick and the other vampires were quietly tending to shop chores, acting like they weren’t watching our every move.
I didn’t have to look at the phone screen to know the text was from my mama. I hadn’t mentioned staying out late tonight. I’d really counted on them being distracted by the NCAA basketball tournament. Usually, when University of Kentucky was playing, they didn’t register that I was in the same hemisphere, much less not present in the same house. The Wildcats must have lost…which meant my dad would be in an even worse mood when I got home.
Shit.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m so sorry. I have to go.”
“But are you all right?” he asked again. “You seem upset.”
I hesitated before finally admitting. “I live with my parents.”
He had no reaction. I sort of squinted at his face, as if I could read micro-expressions that would tell me whether he felt sorry for me. But nothing happened, and that was almost worse. Had I shocked him into total immobility?
“Is that unusual for unmarried women of your age to still live with their parents?” he asked. “Keep in mind that when I was your age, women stayed with their families until they were married. Of course, most of them were married by the time they were sixteen.”
“Well, that’s not the case now. Most people my age live on their own, but with my parents and pack dynamics…I think I’m just embarrassed. I’m having a nice time and I don’t really want to leave.”
“And I’m assuming that you didn’t tell them that you’re out with me,” he said, the corner of his lips lifting.
“No, I did not.” I shook my head, my cheeks flushing.
“Surprisingly daring and rebellious,” he noted, wiggling his eyebrows.
“This is as about as rebellious as it gets for me.”
He stood and held out his hand. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
I packed my things away in my backpack and slung it on my back. “Oh, I don’t have one. I usually run to and from town.”
His mouth dropped open. “How far do you live from here?”
“Just a few miles. In my wolf form, I can run it in fifteen minutes.” When the appalled expression didn’t move from his face, I added, “It’s good exercise!”
“That’s insanity,” he exclaimed. “I’ll drive you home.”
“Damn right, you will!” Dick exclaimed from the back of the shop. “Like a gentleman!”
“I think a vampire dropping me off at the werewolf compound I call home will cause a lot of questions,” I replied. “Questions I probably shouldn’t answer.”
“That is a good point,” Dick conceded. “I’m still watching you, Bonfils.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Alex conceded.
“Goodnight, Dick! You adorable menace!”
“Goodnight, Cough Drop Hater!”
“Still gotta work on the nickname!” I called back as we walked out. “Goodnight, everybody!”
The various vampires called their goodnights as the door shut behind us. I gestured towards my usual “exit point” into the woods. He kept a respectful distance, and I felt grateful for it. I’d been on too many blind dates where the moment I stepped into a secluded space, my companion basically attacked my face. Respectful distance was a pleasant contrast.
“So, when you say you run to your home from town, do you mean in your human form? Or your wolf form?”
“My wolf form, usually. I’m faster on four feet,” I said as we reached a wooded area where it would be safe for me to strip down.
“It’s the first date! We’re not in the ‘transforming into supernatural creatures in front of each other’ stage yet!” I exclaimed, only half-kidding.
“I’ve just never had the opportunity to see a werewolf in an interaction that didn’t involve me getting bitten, clawed or otherwise injured. I didn’t realize I was asking anything untoward. I’m sorry.”
I giggled. “Okay, but you don’t just ask someone for that. It’s like saying ‘send nudes’ two messages in.”
He shook his head. “I have no idea what that means.”
“That’s for the best, trust me,” I assured him.
It dawned on me that he had no way to inappropriately ask for nudes because he had no idea how to contact me. “This is a weird conversational transition, but would you like my phone number? We could text instead of waiting for both of us to end up at the same place at the same time.”
“I would very much like to have your phone number, but I don’t text that often,” he admitted. “Cal and Nik mock me constantly for it.”
“Well, I will help you catch up to modern dating conveniences,” I told him, holding my hand out for his phone. He handed it to me and I programmed my number into his contacts under “Tylene, Terribly Interesting Werewolf Girl” and then texted to my phone so I could have his info.
“Did you just save me in your contacts as Aunt Myrtle?” he asked.
“If an unfamiliar male name pops up on my screen while my family is around, you will be on the receiving end of a lot of harassing calls,” I told him as I tapped on my phone screen. “It’s better to save you as a fictional aunt.”
“Won’t your parents realize that you don’t have an Aunt Myrtle?” he asked.
“I have so many aunts, it’s pretty unlikely.” I grinned up at him as I hit send on a text.
He paused to look at his screen. “Heart, winking face, grey German shepherd.”
“That’s a wolf,” I told him. “Our first step towards modern communication is getting you comfortable with emojis.”
He frowned. “I don’t know if I want to be comfortable with emojis.”
“I promise not to use frustrating and abbreviated text speak.”
He looked down at his screen and hit a button.
“Cowboy hat, cardboard box?” I asked.
“It’s going to take some time,” he told me, nodding.
I burst out laughing. There was this moment of silence, where I wondered whether he was going to kiss me. A strange sensation of dread rippled down my spine. This part of the date could be so, well, freaking awful, when you were dating an alpha male werewolf type. You’re just standing there, minding your business, and suddenly they lunge at you, like they’re going to eat your face.
What if it was worse with vampires? Would there be fangs involved? I didn’t know a lot for sure about this…whatever it was. But I knew I was not ready for that.
But like everything else I’d observed about Alex, he was a gentleman. He wasn’t timid. He just didn’t push. And like everything else about him, I appreciated that. I’d had more than enough of alpha types wanting to take my choices away from me. Alex seemed to care about what I wanted. That was sexy in a way I didn’t expect.
Deciding to seize the moment, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He smiled, bumping his forehead against mine. Another girl might miss that gesture, but among wolves, a forehead bump was a significant expression of affection. It was practically a non-verbal “would you like to go steady?” proposal.
The question was, did Alex know that? Probably not.
I inhaled deeply, enjoying that woodsy smell of him. “Do you smell like the instruments? Or do they smell like you?”
He startled. “What?”
“You smell like cedar and resin,” I said, nosing at this shoulder.
“You know, I’ve never thought about it,” he said. “But it makes sense. I’ve spent more time with them, than anything else in my life. Do you know what you smell like to me?”
“I don’t think so. Jolene mentioned that she and Jane had some ‘scent incompatibility issues’ when they met. Turn around, please,” I told him. Though he looked more than a little disappointed, he turned. I dropped my clothes and stuffed them into my backpack, watching him for any sign of turning or craning his neck. But he all but whistled innocently while contemplating the moon.
I rolled my shoulders and concentrated on the change, shaking my fur free and stretching my long lupine back. I was grateful that I was in full command of my mind when I changed. Some weres who left long gaps between changes or tried to live too “normal” could lose track of their time during the change. They could do unspeakable things, under the influence of their other forms—mostly involving the slaughter of chickens—and not remember a thing. Suddenly, my family’s insistence on weekly runs through the woods together seemed very wise, instead of a pain in my furry ass.
I chuffed lightly. My keen eyes detected the delight on his features, even in the dim light. In werewolf terms, I was a fine specimen—silky russet fur, long lines, sharp teeth. Alex knelt in front of me and rubbed his hand over my ears, pressing the tips a bit between his fingers. “Just look at you!”
I nuzzled my nose against his chest, making him scratch behind my ears. “Who’s a pretty girl?”
I growled in a way that I hoped implied, I will bite you.
He chuckled and nudged his nose against mine. Again. Maybe he had read something of our mating rituals. There was a book written years before, about the love customs of the were, though most people wrote it off as some sort of joke. Thank goodness.
“Goodnight, Ty.”
I yipped and dashed off, only glancing over my shoulder once to see that he him waving. He didn’t follow me, and for that I was grateful. I was going to have enough to deal with when I got home.
4
“Approach younger partners’ families with caution, like you would a ballista loaded with flaming pitch, or the nuclear option of your day.”
—A Gentleman in Any Era: An Ancient Vampire’s Guide to Modern Relationships
* * *
It is very unwise to wake a sleeping werewolf by ripping the covers off of her head.
And yet, my aunts chose to do this, practically blinding me with early morning sunlight and shouts of “Wakey-wakey!”
This made me transform as I rolled over, resulting in a snapping wolf, circling on my bed. I was not a morning werewolf.
Aunt Lurlene and Braylene stood over me, with my mother standing by the door, her arms crossed over her thin chest. Lurlene and Braylene’s lips curled back simultaneously in distaste at my display. You just didn’t snap at your elders, particularly these aunts. It just wasn’t done.
Daddy was at the door in a flash, all teeth and snarling. He didn’t even have to change. I quieted down almost immediately, slipping back under the covers so I could shift back to human.
I sighed, throwing the scraps of my favorite sleep shirt to the floor. I’d shredded my pajamas to rags. Again.
“Apologize to your aunts!” Daddy shouted.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Lurlene and Aunt Braylene,” I mumbled, rubbing a hand over my face, “that you woke an apex predator up from a sound sleep.”
“You must be tired from your late night,” Lurlene sniffed as Daddy strolled off, having proven that he was still in control of his household.
I groaned and wanted more than anything to pull the pillow over my head. I should have known I’d gotten off too easy the night before, walking into the house under my parents’ glares and brazening my way into bed, pretending that I didn’t smell like aggressively floral moist towelettes I’d wiped down with right before I walked in. But hiding under bedding would just give my family the impression than I’d done something to hide from—which I hadn’t.
The trick to not giving away incriminating information to one’s nosey relativ
es was to make a lot of eye contact and keep your expression neutral. This was sort of difficult to do when your still-adjusting eyes were all squinted from the sunlight pouring through your windows.
“We have good news,” Lurlene announced.
“That seems unlikely,” I muttered, grabbing a spare shirt from the floor, next to my bed for just such an occasion. Mama tossed me a pair of sweatpants, which was more than she’d intervened on my behalf in years. I slipped into my clothes under the blankets.
“Braylene has called in every favor she had and gotten you a dinner date with Donnie Ansen,” Lurlene told me.
“What kind of favors?” I asked, squinting up at them.
“I’m gonna have to curl and set every woman in the Ansen family, and do an ungodly amount of plucking,” Braylene muttered.
For just a moment, I felt an unfamiliar flash of warm affection for Braylene. While Braylene loved to ply her trade as a not-quite-licensed beautician, it would be a blow to her pride to work on the Ansens, who were a couple of tax brackets higher than our pack. I could only imagine their wealth (something to do with fertilizer) had a lot to do with why my aunts were pushing me to make a match with Donnie. I’d met him a few times. Young werewolves tended to mix together when the packs gathered. He was tall, dark and handsome, the cliché Alpha male package, but we just weren’t compatible . He didn’t understand why people made fun of the Cats movie. He thought “that Shakespeare dude” was still alive somewhere. But my approved werewolf dating pool was so small, he was probably considered the best I could get.
“We thought you might like to meet at that nice restaurant in town, Southern Comfort. Donnie’s going to call and set up a time,” Lurlene told me.
“He has my number?” I asked, carefully refusing to mention that Southern Comfort was well-regarded in undead circles for its vampire-friendly options.
“No, he’s going to call your daddy and set it up with him,” Mama said softly.
“Of course. Why would he call me to ask me out?” I muttered, swinging my legs out of bed.