by Chase Connor
Lucas was merely smiling at me.
“Do you think him or his wife will tell people I’m here?” I asked.
“I would be shocked to shit if they didn’t,” Oma grumbled. “Wesley ain’t got a lick of propriety, and Sarah Jean finds out and tells everyone’s business. She probably figures out whodunit before Wesley can even begin to investigate. Hell, she probably knows a crime’s being committed as it’s happenin’.”
Lucas laughed again.
“She is…I guess…interested in other people’s affairs.” He agreed.
“She’s fuckin’ nosy is what she is.” Oma slapped at his arm.
“Tomato, tomahto.” He chuckled at her before turning to look at me. “Babe, I’ve got to get down to the hardware store. Grandpa understood me having to stay here while the Sheriff was around, but…”
I waved him off. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Lucas gave me a soft smile and sauntered over, ignoring the fact that Oma was still in the room. Before I could stop him, my face was in his hands, and he was kissing me gently on the lips. Oma gave a wolf-whistle—appropriate more than she knew—as she headed back to the table. Lucas pulled back from the kiss with a smile, his eyes staring into mine.
“Why don’t you come by the house later?” He grinned evilly since his back was to Oma. “I’ll make us dinner.”
“Vegetarian?”
“Of course.”
“You’re lucky I like you.”
“Like?” He teased.
“Go to work.” I spun him gently and swatted his pajama pants covered ass. “I’ll come to your house later.”
Oma wolf-whistled again.
“Stuff it, old woman.” I snarled.
Lucas cackled before giving me a wink. Then he was gone. And Oma and I were alone in the kitchen. I stood there as Oma started sipping her cup of coffee again. Once I was confident that enough time had passed for Lucas to have gotten into his truck and pulled away, I went and sat down across from Oma. She eyed me knowingly as I grabbed my coffee cup.
“That your work out there?” She asked, calmly sipping her now, probably cold, coffee.
“Perhaps,” I replied calmly. “Unless you were out wandering around last night or early this morning.”
“Ernst told me last night when I caught him creeping around my room.” She answered the obvious question. “So…ya’ heard some weird noise and thought you’d go investigate like some teenager with big tits in a horror movie? That seem as dumb now as it should?”
“Did he tell you about the wolves?” I ignored her.
“He mentioned ‘em.”
“It wasn’t a full moon last night.”
“No.” She gave a single nod. “It wasn’t.”
“I’m guessing that maybe werewolves are forced to turn into wolves at the full moon, but can—or at least some can—turn when they want. That about sum that up?”
“Just about.”
“After my little incident with Andrew, don’t you think that would have been good information for me to have?” I frowned.
“Why?” She snorted. “Andrew ain’t one of them. He ain’t nearly powerful enough to be changin’ his skin any ole damn time the mood strikes him.”
“Regardless.” I tried not to be dazed by this conversation I was having with my grandmother in her more than ordinary country kitchen. “It would be good to have told me, hey, since you know there are werewolves now, maybe you should know that you don’t just have to worry about the full moon. Especially since Point Worth seems to be teeming with them, Oma.”
“Every damn time I turn around, you’re scolding me for something.” She sighed.
“Rightfully so,” I stated though I couldn’t put any force behind the words. “This is twice I could have been clawed or chewed up by a werewolf—wolves—because you decided to keep secrets, Oma.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Some werewolves can change any damn time they please. Happy?”
“I guess.”
“But I didn’t know we had any of them around here.” She waggled her head. “Usually they have to belong to a pack and have a pretty damn powerful Pack Alpha to have that kind of power, and—”
“Pack?” I stopped her. “Pack Alpha?”
“Well, yes. Wolves have packs and alphas so why wouldn’t werewolves?”
“Ya’ know,” I shrugged, “I’ll give you that one. Where’d Lena disappear off to?”
Oma looked around, as though Lena’s whereabouts hadn’t even crossed her mind until I brought her up.
“Lena?” She hollered.
Without so much as a sound, a bright light, a puff of smoke, or anything, Lena was walking out from underneath the table next to Oma. Seeing little humanoid creatures—Kobolds—appear and disappear on a whim would never be something to which I wasn’t sure I could become accustomed. However, I did my best not to jump at the sudden sight of her or do anything that might make her think that I was hostile. I didn’t even have Ernst’s full trust yet—though he had been willing to take a mauling for me the previous night.
“Yes, ma’am?” Lena asked, her eyes darting to me for a moment.
Her voice was like Ernst’s, barely distinguishable from his squeaky-toy-like voice. Maybe it was a little more feminine, but it was pretty close to the same. Even Lena’s physical appearance was strikingly similar to Ernst’s. For a second, I wondered if Ernst wasn’t just somewhere with a trunk full of disguises, waiting to make an appearance in various parts of the house. However, Ernst soon followed Lena out from under the table, though he exited on my side of the table. I did jump when he appeared, only because I hadn’t expected him. Ernst flinched and went to step away.
“Sorry, Ernst.” I reached down to touch his shoulder. “You just startled me.”
He looked up at me then and smiled widely, grateful that I hadn’t been preparing to do something violent. His little pointy ears wriggled slightly, and I suddenly realized that Lena’s ears were a bit more rounded at the top. Her eyes were somewhat more almond-shaped. I’d have to pay attention to tell them apart physically, but it wasn’t impossible.
“It’s awight, sir.” He beamed.
I patted his shoulder again and smiled at him before turning my attention to Oma and Lena.
“There y’all are.” Oma sighed. “Thought you’d have slithered out as soon as everyone was gone.”
“He’s still here.” Lena whisper-hissed at Oma, one of her tiny little fingers jabbing in my direction in what she probably thought was a discreet manner.
“Well, he’s gonna be around for a while, so you may as well get used to coming out with him in the room,” Oma spoke down to Lena. “He ain’t gonna hurt you none.”
“I heard what you done to Ernst.” Lena squinted at me.
“It was an accident,” I said, referring to accidentally blasting Ernst into the bathroom with my finger rays. “I didn’t even know I could do that.”
“Well, don’ go jabbin’ yer fingers at me!” He squeaked.
Oma chuckled. I wanted to giggle but didn’t think it would be appropriate. Instead, I gave her a grave look and nodded. Of course, given what had happened the night before, the fact that the Sheriff’s department had been in the backyard all morning…levity would not have been entirely appropriate.
“I won’t, Lena,” I said. “I promise.”
She harrumphed, which was extremely adorable. Ernst looked up at me and winked, sharing an aside about Lena’s prickly nature. I winked back and smiled.
“Lena,” I asked, “did you see where that woman came from this morning before I told you to hide?”
“Nosir.” She stated sharply.
“You don’t know which direction she walked into the yard from?” I asked again. “You didn’t see her wander out of the woods or from around the house or anything?”
“Nosir.” She reiterated haughtily. “I ran ousside when I heard the missus scream bloody mur’er and that woman was stumblin’ up towards the house a
ll nekkid-like.”
“Oh.”
“I think she was already stumblin’ around the yard when I walked down the steps, Robbie.” Oma shrugged. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly payin’ attention when I stepped out of the house. I think when I got to the bottom of the steps, I looked up and here she comes, all naked and burnt up.”
Sighing, I patted Ernst on the shoulder again and stood. He didn’t jump at me rising to my feet, but Lena stepped closer to Oma, as though she needed a shield from my laser fingers.
“Last night, I was attacked by three werewolves in the backyard,” I said, just to hear myself say it aloud. “And I blasted them with a fireball I conjured up out of my freaking hand. I burnt one of them pretty good. Then this person wanders up in the yard covered in burns.”
Oma looked at me, her eyebrows raised.
“Don’t think the Paxil would have helped in this situation.”
Oma rolled her eyes.
“Let’s face it.” I shrugged. “I killed a woman.”
Blasé is my middle name.
“We don’t know that,” Oma grunted.
“We don’t not know that.”
“She probably had her meth lab blow up.”
“On the same morning I roasted wolf people?”
“Werewolves.”
“Semantics. The coincidence is unsettling, Oma.”
“Oh, just settle down.” Oma raised and lowered her hands, urging me to sit.
I didn’t obey. Crossing my arms over my chest, I looked down at her stubbornly, waiting for whatever it was she had to say.
“Look,” Oma sighed, “maybe you tossed around a little fire to save yours and Ernst’s asses. That’s fair play in any book—even the law book. But we don’t know who that naked lady is, let alone if she is a werewolf. And if it was her, well, she got what was comin’ to her, didn’t she? You attack someone on their property in the dead of night, planning to do them harm, they have a right to defend themselves.”
“I suppose there’s logic there, Oma.” I nodded. “But that doesn’t make me feel any better about being a murderer right now.”
“We don’t know that.” Oma reiterated loudly with a waggle of her head. “And even if we did, it still don’t make you a murderer. It makes you a person who was defending hisself. Period.”
“Where would I find Andrew today?”
“Why?” She snapped.
“If you wanna know something about wolves…”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Who else can give me an idea if this woman was a werewolf?” I shrugged. “Maybe she’s part of his pack?”
“Oh, this is just ridiculous.” Oma shook her head. “Andrew ain’t got a pack anyway.”
“You got any better ideas, Oma?”
“Yeah.” She slapped the table. “Sit your dumbass down and finish your coffee and pretend it never happened. In a week, they’ll decide they don’t know who that lady is, give her a pauper’s funeral, an unmarked grave, and we’ll never have to worry about it again. You done nothin’ wrong.”
“We can debate the morality of all of this later,” I said. “But that woman’s family has a right to know what happened. Especially so they can claim her body.”
“You’re going to talk to Andrew, find out which pack this lady belonged to—if she was even a werewolf—and then tell them you killed her? Are you crazy? They won’t care that it was self-defense. And after you tell ‘em, you better hope you can burn a whole bunch of wolves at one time, because they’ll just attack you. No questions asked.”
“What?”
“If Andrew takes you to meet her pack—or even just her Alpha—they ain’t gonna take kindly to her killer amongst them, regardless of the circumstances.” She said. “You’ll be putting a target on your back. And mine!”
“That kind of changes things.” I sunk into my seat.
“I thought it would.”
“So…what do we do?” I looked up at her. “Besides act like it never happened, I mean.”
Oma shook her head in exasperation.
“I mean, can’t I at least go see Andrew and tell him we think some female werewolf wandered up naked and burnt and died on your lawn so he can tell the…pack…or whatever? So at least the police might find out who she was? I don’t have to say I did it.”
“Where’s the other two wolves, Robbie?” Oma snapped.
“The…”
“The other two wolves that was with her last night?” She clarified. “If that’s really who she was.”
“Um…”
“Exactly.” Oma gave an angry laugh.
“Them other two wolves already know where, who, what, when, where,” Oma said. “Obviously, they’ll know what happened to her and can tell her kinfolk themselves.”
Ernst was against my leg, his arms wrapped around my calf. I laid a hand on his shoulder to give him comfort. Lena was still hiding behind Oma but was looking up at her, terrified.
“They may just leave it at that, Robbie.” Oma sighed. “But we may have more visitors with paws before it’s all said and done. I don’t think you need to go lookin’ for trouble when it’s probably already headed our way.”
“Are you serious?” I gasped.
“Well, werewolves like to keep themselves secret, sure.” She chewed at her lip. “But those fuckers sure can hold a grudge. And they pass those grudges down through the generations. The chances of them forgetting about you barbecuing one of their pack members last night are pretty damn slim. Don’t know that they’ll start any trouble—but they sure won’t back down from any if it’s brought to their doorstep.”
“Fuck.”
“Mm.” Oma nodded and picked up her coffee mug. “So, drink your damn coffee and act like you’re Helen Keller. I hear you know a thing or two about acting.”
She said the last part with a smirk. I wasn’t in the mood to joke.
Chapter 4
Lucas’ house smelled heavenly when I walked inside without even knocking at dinner time. If I hadn’t known better, I would have expected that he was making us a Sunday roast for dinner. Rosemary, and potatoes, and meaty, juicy flavors permeated the air. My boyfriend smiled at me from the kitchen as I closed the front door behind myself and tossed my coat on one of the hooks by the door. “Hey, babe!” he shouted as he smiled widely and I wiped my feet on the rug just inside the door.
The house Lucas was building just felt like Lucas. Lots of wood, rustic, rough corners, simple yet elegant in a masculine way. Utilitarian but not in a sterile or nondescript way. It was merely the house of an outdoorsy guy who also was more concerned with function than style. When he wasn’t cooking it smelled like all of the types of wood he had used to construct the house and…Lucas. I loved the smell of Lucas. He smelled like the wild yet clean, masculine yet fresh, exciting yet peaceful. Whenever I smelled him, it was like my brain had been fried and I couldn’t make a rational decision. All of my neurons were firing wildly at all times, and I could only focus on him, not what was next or next after that. That was Lucas’ house. It was a place where thinking was not required. Existing was all one had to do.
Within the walls of Lucas’ house, I felt that I could slide up to the kitchen bar in front of him, sit down on one of the stools, watch him cook, and I had nothing else with which to concern myself. I could just be Rob Wagner, and nothing else mattered. Besides the fact that Lucas was so easy to like, that was my favorite thing about him. I didn’t have to be anyone but me. In fact, without so much as saying it, Lucas demanded that I just be Rob. He didn’t want Jacob Michaels or Robbie or Robert. He wanted Rob.
“It smells…good in here,” I said as I walked into the kitchen area.
“You sound surprised.” Lucas grinned at me as he wiped his hands on a hand towel he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
Jeans that fit him perfectly. Lucas wasn’t wearing a shirt. It was all just too distracting. As I sat down on the barstool, trying to control myself, he reached across the counter
, took my shirt in his hands and pulled me forward. I met his lips with mine, more than happy to kiss him. Having Lucas’ lips against mine was something that always made me feel safe. Of course, that thought made me feel anything but safe.
“You taste better than the food will, I’m afraid.” He whispered against my mouth as he pulled back just enough so that he could speak.
“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” I replied throatily.
“I could be a world-renowned chef and still not be able to cook something that tastes as delicious as you.”
“Are you trying to get an appetizer?” I teased, my lips brushing against his.
“Are you offering?”
“How important is it for you to keep an eye on the food without burning it?”
Lucas deflated with a grin. “Kind of important.”
I pulled away and sat on the barstool.
“I guess you’ll have to settle for dessert.” I grinned evilly at him.
“I hope you can eat quick.”
“Don’t I always?” I asked.
“Okay, okay.” He waved his hands between us. “Don’t distract the chef!”
“You started it.” I teased.
Lucas winked at me as he checked pots on the stovetop and glanced through the window of the oven. Next, he produced a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured us both half-glasses, setting one carefully in front of me as he took a sip of his own. Picking up the glass by the stem, I looked over at my boyfriend, wondering what it was about Lucas that made me want to throw caution to the wind. What made me want to turn all of the burners off, flip the oven off, then bend him over the counter and—
“You look distracted.”
“Do I?” I sipped my wine.
“A little bit.” Lucas bit his lower lip, trying to hide his smile. “Do I need to put my shirt on?”
“Do you ever?”
“You tell me.”
“You could stay naked all of the time, and it wouldn’t bother me,” I replied. “At least…not in a bad way.”
“Well,” Lucas set his wine glass on the counter and reached for the button of his jeans, “I could always—”