“Nope. Not kidding,” I manage. “Really, really wish I was.”
“So, let me get this straight,” says Rob, leaning forward and dropping his voice to an intense whisper, a vein beginning to throb on the side of his forehead. “You're bringing your girlfriend to meet the pack?”
Anxiety folds over me in a nice, panicky wave. “Well, when you put it like that,” I mutter, setting my beer on the table and licking my lips with anxiety. “You don't think I should?”
Rob, for the first time in his life, seems to have absolutely no idea what to say. If the circumstances weren't so crazy—or dire—I'd probably chuckle about his reaction. Right now, his cheeks are bright purple; he splutters, trying to find words, or remember how to speak them.
“Just... Well... Whoa,” he breathes hoarsely, sitting back in his chair. “I'm just...a little shocked here, Becks. Gimme a second.” Then he wipes up the table with a handful of napkins before staring at me again, his mouth still hanging open. His eyes darken and narrow. “Wait a second. Was this Mama Sophia's idea?
“Yeah. My mom comes up with some pretty good ones, doesn't she?” I tell him with a grimace. “And it wasn't so much an invitation as an order. But I told Loren that it was up to her, that she didn't have to go...” I groan and lean forward, slowly hitting my forehead on the tabletop. “And she wants to go, Rob. God, I'm trying not to be stressed about this, but I am so stressed out about this. I mean, seriously, only five million things could go wrong! What if she sees somebody transform? What if she sees someone eat? Our table manners are atrocious. What if—”
“Hey, hey,” Rob says in the most soothing, everything-is-going-to-be-okay(-probably) voice that he can manage as he reaches across the table to squeeze my shoulder. “Calm down, Becks.” I'm already done with my second beer, and I hadn't thought to grab a third, but Rob did for himself, and he pushes it forward toward me now. “You need this more than me,” he says, and I lift it to my mouth, taking an enormous, grateful drink.
“Listen,” he says carefully, “if this thing between you and Loren is getting intense, I mean... Let's be real. You're gonna have to come clean with her sooner rather than later. You're going to have to tell her—”
“That I'm a werewolf,” I whisper miserably, and then I go back to knocking my head on the tabletop with dull thunks.
“Look at it this way: if she sees a person turn into a wolf at the dinner party, you won't have to deal with any of that 'But werewolves aren't real' stuff. She'll have the proof right in front of her eyes! Problem solved.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, “until she passes out from fear.”
“Hey, now, give the woman some credit,” Rob tells me with a raised brow. “She's probably tougher than you think.”
“I know she is,” I concede. “I just hate this, Rob. I hate it so much. I hate keeping a secret. I hate living two lives—”
“All the more reason for you to come out,” Rob reminds me gently.
I shake my head. “Easier said than done.” I chug the rest of the beer and then gaze at my best friend miserably. “I just really, really wish you could be there. For moral support.”
Rob reaches across the table and squeezes my hand with a grimace. “Pretty sure your mom would drag me to the curb by my collar. With her teeth. And then eat me for the main course.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, “I guess she's not your biggest fan.”
The last time my mother invited Rob to a dinner party was about a year ago. If you ask me, that's pretty awkward, especially since Sonia, Rob's mother (and Ma's sister) comes to every dinner party and every function involving the pack. Hell, my mother and Sonia talk to each other every day, and every day, the both of them are involved in pack affairs, because Sonia is Sophia's second. The second, in a werewolf pack, is almost as powerful as the Alpha, but must take all orders from the Alpha. It's a terrible, tense relationship, because Sonia and Ma have never agreed on anything. And, obviously, Sonia really doesn't agree with having her son's name left off the invitation lists for all pack functions.
But Rob has never minded it. The only reason he hasn't been kicked out of the pack entirely is because of me.
But the reason he's not invited to pack functions is also because of me. It happened about a year ago when I told my mother, for the first time, that I didn't want to be pack leader. And instead of blaming me for it, she blamed Rob, saying he put the idea in my head.
So it's a double-edged sword. And really unfair.
But my mother has never claimed to be fair.
“Hey, Rob,” I tell him, clearing my throat. “What if... What if you did come with us to the dinner?”
Rob's already laughing. “You're joking,” he says dismissively. But then he stares at me, because I'm not laughing; I'm just watching him. “You're joking?” he asks again, uncertain.
“No, no—think about it,” I wheedle, leaning forward across the table and dropping my voice lower. “You haven't been there in a year, and that's terrible. But if you came, it'd be like this glowing, neon-sign message to my mother that she can't order everyone around forever. And consider the fact that, since there'd be a guest there,” I tell him, raising a brow, “my dear mother couldn't say a single damn impolite thing to you. She could just...turn red, for all I care.
“So it brings you back into the pack,” I tell him in a hushed whisper, “and on top of that, you could help me prevent Loren from seeing something that would traumatize her. We could work together.”
“Becks, I love you,” says Rob, concern etching lines in his forehead, “but your mother doesn't want me in the pack. And I'm okay with that.”
“But I'm not,” I tell him, growling.
And that's the thing—I'm not. It was stupid from day one, and from day one, I should have stood up to my mother. The thing is, I tried. I told her that if she didn't welcome Rob in the pack, then I wouldn't come to her functions, either. And for about six months, that's exactly what I did. But my mother has the ability to wear people down, and she eventually wore me down, too. Rob always stated that he didn't like attending events with the pack, that he wasn't bothered by the unofficial ban at all, and I believe him. But it's the damn principle of the thing.
And, for whatever reason, being with Loren makes me feel a little braver.
This is the first time in a long time that I'm going to be standing up to my mother.
“This is crazy,” Rob tells me helpfully.
“Maybe,” I say, shrugging slightly.
“We might not make it out alive,” laughs Rob, only partly joking.
“Well... My mother wants me to be more like an Alpha, right?” I regard him with raised brows, eyes flashing. “Okay. That's exactly what she's going to get.”
Rob nods his head, impressed. “I've never seen you like this, Becks.”
I sit back in my chair, bring the beer to my lips. “What can I say?” I tell him, taking a sip. “Loren's brought out...” I trail off.
“The wolf in you?” he finishes helpfully, and I can't help but grin. “Listen. It'll be stressful and super uncomfortable,” says Rob then, but he's smiling back at me, “but at the same time, it'll be fun to hang out with Loren outside of a bookstore. And who knows? Maybe Aunt Grace's custard pie has gotten even better.”
I'm laughing now. “No, it hasn't,” I promise him. “It's still just as terribly gross as you remember it.”
He reaches for my hand. “Hey. If you really love Loren,” he begins, his tone low, serious—though I can see a smile beginning to crack over his face, “do not let her eat that pie.”
“I solemnly swear that I will protect her from that abomination,” I tell him with a wink.
Chapter 10: The Den of Wolves
So, it's Friday evening.
It's the night of the dinner party.
This...might just end up being the worst night of my life.
I fully expect it to be the worst night of my life. I'm not a pessimistic person, generally, but I have no idea how I'll be ab
le to pull this off without any hitches.
Still, I've got to try.
Because Rob is awesome, he picks me up at my apartment in his beat-up old Escalade, and then he drives us both to Loren's apartment surprisingly ahead of schedule.
“Wait in the car?” I ask him; then I glance at him while biting my lip. “She doesn't know you're coming with us yet.”
He nods, slipping his phone out of his back pocket and turning the car off. “Just make sure to tell her before she walks down to the car,” he reminds me with a brow raised. “And don't make out too much before you come back, okay? We're on a schedule here!”
I laugh gratefully and draw him into a big bear hug (or, you know, wolf hug). “Thank you for coming with me.”
“Thank you for coming with me,” he repeats, giving me a small smile. “I know it's not easy for you to stand up to your mother. She's the Alpha, for one,” he says, holding up a finger when I begin to protest, “and we're all designed to obey the Alpha. It's in our blood. I understand,” he says, glancing sidelong at me. “But, two, she's your mother. And she's not been the easiest of mothers to deal with.”
“Rob, I know we've talked about it before,” I murmur to him, feeling a lump form in my throat, “but I just... I just wanted to ask you again. Did you feel betrayed?” I cough a little. “I mean, when I started to go back to the pack get-togethers?”
“No,” he says immediately. He thinks over his next words for a long moment, then gives me a sidelong glance. “Sophia has a hold over you,” he tells me with a sigh. “She has a hold over all of us. That's why the pack works. Without the Alpha...what are we? Our deepest instinct is to obey her in order to keep the pack together. I understand.”
I offer him another tight hug before exiting the car, but on my way up the sidewalk toward Loren's apartment building, I turn what he said over and over in my heart. Without the Alpha...what are we?
I know it must have been the hardest thing in the world for Rob to hear that the Alpha didn't want him showing up at the family dinner parties, especially when that Alpha was his aunt. The entire thing is so frustrating and so stupid.
But my mother has indicated, more than once, that when I'm Alpha, I'm free to allow Rob “back into the fold” (so to speak), because I'll be able to do whatever I want. That amount of responsibility has always terrified me: I would be responsible for the well being of the entire pack My whole family. And that's the reason I've always known I wouldn't make a good Alpha. My mother makes decisions quickly, and it never seems as if she second-guesses herself or regrets her decrees.
Who knows... Maybe my mother, seeing that I made a stand for Rob tonight, will think I've done something an Alpha would do. That I'm trying to challenge her. For all I know, my mother orchestrated this whole situation in order to compel me to challenge her—for Rob's sake. That could be why she disallowed him from the family gatherings, because she wanted to force me assert my power.
But my mother doesn't have that much malice and cunning in her.
Does she?
I try not to think about that as I knock at Loren's door. I've got enough on my plate tonight, and I'm worried about too many possibilities and repercussions already. I don't need to think that my mother's orchestrated everything so that I'll fight her.
I push my worries from my mind, and I take a deep breath, listening to Loren move around in her apartment, aiming for the front door. And when she opens it, she doesn't waste a second. With a big smile on her face, she reaches out and grabs me by my collar, drawing me into her place to wrap her soft arms around me and kiss me. When she takes a step back, she laughs, picking up a tissue box from her entryway table.
“I guess I have to reapply my lipstick,” she tells me with a wink, her voice a purr as she hands me a tissue. I glance in her hallway mirror, and then I'm chuckling (but my nervousness comes through, my voice sounding unnaturally high), as I take the tissue and wipe all the lipstick off of the side of my mouth...and my cheek...and my neck.
I follow her toward her bathroom, where she pops the cap off of her lipstick, leaning over the sink toward the mirror. She reapplies the lipstick carefully, running the ruby red over her full mouth, and as I watch her, a thrill races through me. She's all dressed up in a white satin button-down shirt and pinstriped pencil skirt that shows off every curve; just looking at her makes my mouth run dry. She pops the cap back onto the lipstick and turns to look at me. She's leaning against the sink in a sexy way, but her wide eyes betray how nervous she is. God, she's nervous, too?
I seriously have no idea how I'm going to survive tonight if we're both this damn anxious about the dinner party.
“Do I look all right?” she asks me, glancing down at herself as she smooths the palms of her hands on her thighs. “Too bookworm-ish?” she jokes.
I step forward, threading my arm around her waist as I pull her to me. Now it's my turn to kiss her neck—but only because she just put on lipstick, and I don't want to smear it. I close my eyes and inhale her sweet perfume as I nuzzle her skin with my nose, feeling the soft caress of her golden curls against my skin. “Just bookworm-ish enough,” I promise her, wrapping her in an even tighter embrace, reveling in the feel of her curves against mine, the satin of her shirt against my hands. Electricity pulses between us. “You look beautiful,” I whisper in her ear.
But Loren pulls away from me a little, glancing up at me with a furrow running across her brow, as she curls her fingers around my upper arms. “But am I overdressed? Underdressed?” she asks, uncertain.
I glance down at myself. I'm wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and dark jeans—hardly the version of “well-dressed” that my mother encourages—but I know that she's going to be impressed with Loren's outfit. “Well...” I murmur to her, my mouth curving into a sly smile as I slip a finger beneath Loren's soft blouse collar. “A little...overdressed for my liking...” I tell her, as she chuckles against me, folding into my embrace easily. I kiss her neck again, inhaling all that is Loren, and I sigh. “But my mom will think you look great.”
“Promise?” Loren murmurs. “I...I really want to impress her. She's your mother, after all. This is serious stuff. Promise me you think she'll like my appearance?”
I step back, hold up my hand, two fingers pointed into the air, and I say without thinking, “Wolf's honor.”
The second those words slip past my lips, I'm practically choking, in a vain attempt to draw them back in. My eyes widen, my breath hitches in my throat, and my heart has a small attack as I realize exactly what I've just said. Out loud.
I guess it's because I'm so comfortable around Loren. I've never been this comfortable around anyone who wasn't family, and we say that sort of thing (and even cornier wolf jokes than that) around each other all the time. So it just came out of my mouth, purely out of habit.
Loren stares at me quizzically, her head to the side. “Wolf's...honor? I've never heard of that before. What is it? Is that, like, a Girl Scouts thing?”
I latch onto the notion like a dying man holding tightly to a life preserver. Or, you know, another drowning guy. “Yeah, totally,” I squeak. “You know, because wolves are really...loyal to each other.” Wow, smooth, Becks, I tell myself, internally kicking my own butt.
Loren nods slowly, but her eyes are narrowed as she watches me for a long moment, and I know she's not totally convinced. Until she says, “Yeah. That...makes sense. Sort of.” Then she smiles at me—her big, beautiful, perfectly genuine smile. “I like it!”
I dodged that silver bullet by the skin of my teeth. I try not to sigh too deeply with relief, my shoulders slumping, and then I put on a bright, shiny smile. “So, are you ready to go?” I ask quickly. “No time like the present! My mother likes her guests to arrive on time. Early, even. If you could have arrived yesterday afternoon, she probably would have preferred that,” I tell her, picking up her coat from the entryway and holding it out for her to shrug into.
Loren threads her hands through the arms of the coat and
gives me a sigh of her own as I lift the coat up onto her shoulders. “I'm as ready as I'll ever be.” She doesn't sound too thrilled.
“Don't worry,” I murmur to her, stepping close behind her. Her hair is up in that gorgeous bun, and it leaves the delicate curve of her neck completely bare for me to caress with my mouth, and kiss—which is exactly what I do. “They'll love you,” I growl to her, and it's a promise. I really think they will. It's how you'll feel about them that I'm worried about... I think miserably.
“One last thing,” I tell her, as I hold her front door open for her. Loren raises her brow at me and gives me a soft, sly smile; I can't help but grin at her. “So, we're driving to my mother's house...with Rob,” I tell her.
“Rob? Your cousin Rob? Your best friend Rob?” she asks me, and then an even wider smile spreads across her face. “Oh, that's awesome! I've been wanting to spend a bit more time with him. He's your best friend, and so important to you! It'll be my pleasure to chat with him,” she says.
“Good,” I tell her, internally sighing with relief. I didn't think she'd be unhappy to drive to the dinner party with Rob, but it was kind of inconsiderate of me to spring it on her—but I wasn't certain he'd be coming with us until last night. “Great, even!” I tell her with an equally big grin. “He's pretty excited to see you, too!”
When we make our way down her front walkway and walk arm-in-arm to Rob's car, Rob springs out of the driver's side as if he were sitting on a tack, loping around the side of the car to meet Loren with a wide smile.
“Loren!” he says, holding out his hand, looking from me to Loren, back to me again, as if doing a double-take. “Long time, no see!”
“Rob,” she says with a chuckle, and she pumps his hand up and down just as enthusiastically. “Yeah, it's been awhile! I hear that it's because of you that Becca came to pick me up in the first place,” she says a little slyly, and to my utter delight, this makes Rob blush.
“Well, yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing a little. “Heh, heh.” Then he winks at us. “So, you can thank me for your awesome relationship.”
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