“I'm sure you will be, Chris.” Emmett beamed at him. “Now, how about the rest of you introduce yourself to Chris. We'll start with the front row, going from left to right. I'll begin. My name is Emmett Kennedy, and I'm the male alpha of the pack.”
The introductions were long and tedious. While I tried my best to match faces with names, I knew there was no way I would remember them all.
There was one woman with long wavy blonde hair and a strong Russian accent. When she told us that her name was Sasha, there was so much aggressive energy in her voice that I thought she might jump up and pounce on Chris. She looked at him with a strange sexual hunger behind her small blue eyes that caused jealousy to race through me—jealousy that I knew I shouldn't be feeling.
Then it was the turn of the bronze haired man. He stood up like the rest, except that he didn't turn around to look at us when he spoke. “My name is Rex Willows, and I'm a lone wolf.”
“Good of you to make it,” Emmett replied, and I could sense a bit of tension in his voice. He didn't like Rex, and I was curious to know why.
When the introductions were over, Emmett spoke again. “We also have a special guest within our midst. Ms. Taya Raveen, please stand up, if you would.” While I did as I was told, he continued, “Ms. Raveen is a journalist for the National News Network. As some of you may know, she'll be staying with us until before the next full moon to document our day to day lives. She's putting together a report on the reservation and will probably ask to interview most of you. I would like you all to cooperate and show her the utmost respect while she is with us. Is there anything that you would like to say, Ms. Raveen?”
I took a breath before speaking, hoping that I could remember all the words that I had rehearsed inside of my head. “As Emmett has said, I will be staying with you here at the reservation for the remainder of the month. Please continue with your day to day lives as if I'm not even around so that I can get the most accurate information for my report. I will be asking you some very personal questions, but please know that it is to your discretion whether or not you want to answer them. You are not obligated to answer my questions, nor are you obligated to agree to an interview. It is my hope that my report will help to generate awareness about the reservation and your condition, and hopefully help to improve your lives until a cure can be found. Thank you for having me.”
“If anyone has any questions for Ms. Raveen, you can feel free to either ask them now or in the privacy of your interview,” Emmett told the group.
A plump woman in her mid-sixties raised her hand, shaking it in the air as if she thought she might have competition. No one else seemed interested though, more concerned with the pizza getting cold than asking questions.
“Yes,” I addressed her.
“Ms. Raveen, is it true that you got to tour the outside of the reservation before they brought you in?” she asked.
“That's correct.”
“Did you get to see the lab area?”
“I'm not quite sure what you're talking about.”
“Where they work on the cure.”
My heart sank. “I'm afraid that research towards a cure for the lycanthropy disease is carried out away from the compound.”
“Well, did you get to tour that facility?”
“Unfortunately, no. My tour was confined to the compound and the reservation.”
“So, you don't know anything about the progression of the cure. Surely, you must have heard something.”
I tried to keep a deadpan expression as I responded, hiding the fact that I did know more. “I was not given access to that information.”
“Oh.” Her face sulked, and she turned around to the front of the room, forgetting that I was there.
“Anyone else?” Emmett asked, scanning the crowd. When no one raised their hand, he gestured to the pizza line. “Well then, let's get our feed bag on. Ms. Raveen and Chris, if you two would come up and get your food first, since you're our guests of honor.”
Grabbing a plate before everyone else felt a bit inappropriate considering I could have pizza any time I wanted outside of the reservation. This was a rare treat for them, something they only got to enjoy once a month. Still, I didn't want to make it seem like I was overriding Emmett's authority, so I kept my mouth shut.
Bottles of sodas and cans of Budweiser were provided at the end of the table. I took a Diet Coke, and Chris didn't hesitate to grab a beer. He probably would have taken more than one if he had a choice, I imagined.
When I got back to my seat, I looked for Rex and was surprised that he was nowhere to be seen. After checking for him periodically throughout the meal, it became clear that he had left when they began serving the pizza. Perhaps he had just come because it was mandatory and had no intentions of staying to eat with the rest of the pack.
Everyone appeared to be having a blast, laughing and socializing on a level of enthusiasm that I hadn't witnessed in the reservation before. The armed guards went unnoticed by most of the pack. It was as if they were used to seeing them by now.
When the celebration was over, Devon escorted me back to my room. One thing quickly became apparent by the following morning. Devon was not going to allow me to sleep in. Like a werewolf alarm clock, he arrived at my door promptly at seven forty-five to collect me for breakfast, despite the fact that we didn't sit together once we got to the cafeteria.
After a few days of approaching werewolves randomly for interviews, I decided to put Devon to work making a list of all the names of the werewolves on the reservation so that I could interview them in alphabetical order by their first names. This would make my job easier and ensure that I didn't miss anyone.
On Thursday, it was time to interview a man named Bartholomew Ryan, one of the lone wolves who lived away from the pack. Devon was a bit uncomfortable with the idea of taking me to where he lived, suggesting that I was better off skipping the lone wolves, but I insisted. After all, how could I get the whole picture if I didn't understand how the outsiders lived?
The trek to Bartholomew's house would take an entire day, considering that he lived towards the back of the one thousand acre reservation. Not wanting for either Devon or I to be stuck in the woods overnight, I decided to approach the reservation fence line in hopes that I could appeal to the compound staff to lend us some ATVs. At first, they were apprehensive, but eventually they agreed under the stipulation that we'd return them before the end of the day.
The drive out to Bartholomew's place took a little over an hour, thanks to some patchy terrain. It seemed like he wanted to make it as difficult as possible for the compound staff to reach him.
Despite the bumpy ride, I enjoyed the change of scenery. Pine trees jutted up into the sky, filling the air with a Christmasy aroma. Everything was lush greens and earthy browns, creating a serene sense of wonderment at nature's beauty.
When we finally came upon Bartholomew's house, it reminded me of something out of one of my grandmother's old paintings. Nestled amidst trees was a simple log cabin with an outhouse in the back. I couldn't help but be impressed by the fact that all of this had been built by Bartholomew himself without any help from the rest of the werewolves or tools from the reservation.
My excitement waned when it became clear that he either wasn't home or had no intentions of opening the door to us. “Do any of the other lone wolves live nearby?” I asked Devon, not wanting to have gone through the effort of borrowing the ATVs for nothing.
“They're pretty spaced out from one another, but if you want to try someone else, then we can,” he replied, his face screwing in a way that told me I shouldn't be hopeful.
The second house was similar to the first in construction and belonged to a man named Chris Ross. We could hear him rustling around inside of the cabin, but whenever I knocked, all went silent as he waited patiently for us to go away.
Perhaps Devon had been right. Perhaps we shouldn't have bothered coming out. Still, I figured it would be worth the effort if I could get at
least one interview from a lone wolf. All I really needed was one, it didn't matter who gave it to me.
Unlike the other two houses, Rex's home seemed to be made of old wooden boards that had once been cut from a lumber yard. The outside of it was gray with age, and there were gaps where the wood was warped, as if it had been there long before the werewolves were moved onto the property.
“He's not here either,” Devon said with obvious relief in his voice.
“I guess today was a bust then,” I sighed, throwing up my arms in defeat.
“If you want, we can wait around for a little while,” he suggested, but I could hear the reluctance, silently telling me that he'd rather not.
“No, it's alright. I already forced you to miss lunch because of this. I can come back some other time by myself, now that I know how to get here.” I mounted my ATV, preparing to start it up.
“I'd rather you not come alone.”
“Why not?”
“These guys can be kind of rough. I'd rather you not take the chance.”
I couldn't help but smirk. For being such a small boy, Devon didn't seem afraid to protect me. Then again, he might have just been worried that if I came alone and something happened to me that he would catch hell for it from the other werewolves. After all, Devon's job was to be my guide, and there was no more appropriate time for him to be by my side than when I went traipsing off into the forest after aggressive male werewolves.
After we returned to the base of the reservation and dropped off the ATVs, I scurried to get in two more interviews before dinner time. While the interviews were fascinating, to an extent, they were quickly beginning to sound repetitive. Most of the werewolves that I had spoken to so far had contracted the lycanthropy disease through sexual contact with a stranger. Only one other had been bitten besides Devon. The host werewolf was rarely ever found. Same story, different werewolf.
By dinner time, I was completely exhausted, but after skipping lunch, I knew that I couldn't afford to miss another meal if I wanted to keep my strength up. Per usual, I sat with the alphas and betas and Chris.
“I heard you and Devon got to ride around on ATVs today,” Rick, the resident male beta, said as he leaned past his female counterpart to see me.
“Mhm,” I replied, not really interested in talking about it.
“That sure beats walking to Bartholomew's,” Emmett commented. “What is it, twenty-one miles away from here?”
“Twenty-six,” Rick corrected him.
“Maybe you could write up in that report of yours that we could use a couple of ATVs in the reservation,” Emmett told me.
“Perhaps I'll do that.” I flashed him a tired smile.
“You know why they don't want us to have ATVs, don't you?” Rick addressed Emmett, pointing at him with his fork, a piece of corn clinging to one of the tines.
“Hm?” Emmett grunted, but I could tell by his lack of interest that they had had this conversation before.
“It's because they're worried we'll crash them into the fences and try to escape. I bet that's why they won't let us have them.”
“Makes sense,” Chris muttered under his breath.
“Do you think they wouldn't catch us if we got out?” Rick turned his fork to Chris in warning. “Do you know what they do to werewolves that try to escape the reservation? They put them in solitary confinement for a week.”
“You keep calling it a reservation, but I think we all know it's more like a prison,” Chris spoke up, taking us all by surprise.
“Hey!” Rick looked behind himself to make sure that no one had heard Chris's outburst. “You watch your mouth. We're lucky to get what's been given to us. They could just put us all in cages, you know.”
Chris's jaw tensed and then twitched as he was about to say something else, but then he went silent, sulking down into his seat for a second before he finally decided to excuse himself from the table. I sighed, debating for a moment on whether or not to follow him, but I had barely gotten into eating my plate of barbequed brisket, and I was still starving from missing lunch. Besides, he probably needed some time to cool off anyway, and me following him might look a bit suspicious. It was definitely smarter to stay put for now.
“I'm sorry.” Rick turned his attention to me. “But he's going to have to learn not to talk like that. This place is a gift, to protect the outside world while also providing a way of life for us. I don't think we could ask for better, given the circumstances. He'll just have to get used to it, the same as we all had to.”
“He'll be broken in soon enough,” Emmett added without the least bit of concern in his voice.
“I imagine it must be hard . . . must have been hard for all of you,” I said, returning to my food.
“It was, but you get over it eventually. He will too,” Rick responded.
Thankfully, the rest of the meal wasn't plagued with awkward silence. Margaret, the female beta, and Terry, the female alpha, began chattering away about the celebration. It was reminiscent of any normal gossip. They talked about who all attended, who hadn't attended, couples in the reservation whose relationships seemed to be blossoming and those that seemed to be in turmoil. They even commented on how Sasha had looked at Chris.
“He'll feel a lot better when he takes a mate,” Terry insisted.
“And I bet Sasha will have her claws in him as soon as she sees where he places in the hierarchy trials, especially if he places high. She's got a ferocious taste for good strong men,” Margaret added.
Inside my body, the green imp of jealousy tugged at my heart-strings. I could clearly remember the fire in Sasha's eyes when she introduced herself to us. Apparently, it hadn't been something I had imagined. If her reputation was this well known, then it was only a matter of time before she approached Chris. The thought made me furrow my brow in disapproval.
After dinner, I decided to go check on him. From the bottom of the stairs, I could see that there weren't any lights on in Chris's room. He must have either been taking a nap or just didn't want to be bothered.
With a sigh, I walked down the complex towards my suite. To my surprise, Chris was sitting on the stairs. I tried to hide the surge of happiness threatening to curl my lips, considering that his were set into the typical scowl I had grown used to seeing.
“Hey,” he said to me as he stood.
“Hey you.” I jogged up the first few steps to meet him.
“Sorry about my outburst during dinner.”
“Don't worry about it. You were just speaking your mind. Come on in.” I swept past Chris to open the door.
“I was actually wondering if you wanted to go play ping pong or something?”
“Oh.” I turned to face him. “You want to join the tournament?”
“Not particularly.”
“Well, I think it starts in a couple of hours. I imagine that the recreation room will be full with people practicing.”
“Oh.” Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “I had completely forgotten about that.”
“I'm sure we can find something else to do, if you don't still want to go.”
“Like what, watch television?” he huffed. “By the time I die, I'll be a pop-culture junkie.”
My face sulked at his sarcasm. It wasn't my fault there wasn't much to do around the reservation.
Sensing he had upset me, Chris's expression softened. “I'm sorry, Taya. I'm just . . . still not used to this. I don't think I'll ever get used to this.”
“It's alright,” I murmured back.
As I set my notebook down on the coffee table, Chris reached to pick it up. My entire body tensed with thoughts that he was going to read it, and I instantly lurched forward to snatch it from his hands. Just as quickly, Chris pulled it out of reach, giving a look of offense that made me hold my breath in fear of what he'd say next . . . or even worse, what he'd think.
“What? You don't want me to read it?” Chris asked.
“I don't want anyone to read it until it's published,” I told
him, holding my hand out to indicate that he should give it back.
“You wrote something bad about me in here, didn't you—about us, the werewolves?” Chris furrowed his eyebrows, flipping open to a random page to begin reading.
“Christopher Abbot, you give that notebook back right now,” I demanded.
“Christopher Abbot?” He smirked at me. “You know, that only works when my mother does it.”
Like a child desperately wanting a toy, I pounced on him, grabbing the notebook with both hands and tugging on it with all of my might to get it away from him. Obviously, Chris thought it was a big game. He leaned away from me, giving as much resistance as he could with a devilish grin spread across his oh-so-kissable lips as our bodies were pressed together in a . . . Oh my God, I was blushing. As if all of my ladylike senses suddenly came to me, I pushed myself away from him and fell into my chair, trying to cover the pink of my cheeks with an angry glare.
“So there is a side of you that isn't so serious?” Chris joked, straightening himself up and flipping to a blank page. “Don't get your panties in a knot, Taters, I just thought we could play a game of hangman.”
“Taters?” I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, that's what I'm going to call you from now on. Taters.”
“Ugh. Please don't.”
“Taters. Taters. Taters,” Chris teased, and despite myself, I smiled at him. This was a side of him that I hadn't seen before, the playful side, the happy side, the side that he probably thought had been lost when they threw him into the reservation.
“Fine!” I exclaimed in mock defeat. “But only when we're alone together. Lord knows what people would think if you called me that in public.”
“And you have such a reputation to uphold,” Chris said sarcastically.
“Hangman. Get to writing, brat.” I tossed the pen at him.
The first word he came up with was six letters. It didn't take me long to figure out that it was 'prison'. In fact, all the words Chris chose seemed related to his thoughts about the reservation. His list included: compound, reservation, unhappy, captured, detained, werewolf. I tried for words that I didn't think Chris would ever be able to guess, like innocuous, heredity, chromosome, soliloquy, euphemism, plagiarize, and vernacular.
A Month with Werewolves (The With Werewolves Saga Book 1) Page 6