The Girl Who Cried Werewolf

by Heather Hildenbrand

  I do another quick scan of the place and spot Brody in the corner. He’s talking to a woman whose exposed skin is nearly covered in swirling tattoos. Her raven colored hair is long on top but shaved underneath in a punk sort of style, and her lip is pierced. She looks confident with an edge of sassy. The opposite of Anna. Not exactly Brody’s type.

  I’m debating whether to go over and insert myself into the conversation, sort of like he did to me yesterday, when a sudden howl splits the air and sends my thoughts scattering.

  My gaze snaps to the table next to me, zeroing in on the guy with his head tipped back, a keening howl ripping from his throat. The other two people at the table, both of whom I’ve seen around campus, are snickering and glancing at me throughout the spectacle.

  Everyone else in the cafe has stopped talking to stare at the guy.

  When he finally falls silent, he lowers his head and looks straight at me. His grin is mocking as he says, “You can take a picture if you want. Tell everyone you’ve spotted a werewolf at the coffee shop.”

  He winks, and his friends laugh harder.

  I glare at him, but before I can formulate a response, Talia appears behind him, smacking the back of his head.

  “Ow.” He turns, rubbing the place where she hit him, his expression accusing.

  But Talia just glowers at him. “Shut your mouth, Greg. Before I shut it for you.”

  Greg looks like he wants to respond, but one look at Talia’s expression, and he ducks his head, muttering to himself.

  “Damn, Talia, he looks like the kid who just left the principal’s office,” I tell her as she shoves me aside and slides into the booth.

  “He howls again, and he’ll be in the clinic,” she says darkly.

  I’ve never seen Talia fight before, but I have zero doubt she can back up her claim. Apparently, Greg agrees because a second later, he and his friends get up and leave.

  Anna comes in just as they exit.

  She frowns, glancing back at them as she slides in across from me and Talia. “Why on earth does Greg from my Economics class sound like he wants to go home and journal a hit list with you two at the tippy top of it?” she asks.

  Talia snorts. “I dare him to try.”

  My brows shoot upward. “Let me guess, you have a hit man on speed dial. Greg doesn’t.”

  Anna grins.

  Talia sighs. “Guys, I am not a mobster.”

  “Right,” Anna says, disbelief coating the word.

  Talia levels a look at her. “You’re telling me you think I’m capable of murder and you’re still friends with me?”

  “No, we think you’re capable of telling other people to commit murder,” I correct.

  “And you’re okay with that?” Talia asks.

  “Okay with it?” I snort. “Why do you think we’re friends with you?”

  Anna laughs.

  Talia’s lips twitch, but the smile never quite appears before she just shrugs and says, “Fair enough.”

  “Was Greg botherin’ you?” Anna asks, pinning me with a suddenly sympathetic look.

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I assure them.

  Neither argue though Anna gives me a dubious once-over before they both slip away to place their orders. I roll my eyes then go back to checking my DM’s and setting up what few advertising spots are being offered anymore. My sponsorships are way down. If they keep dropping like this, I won’t have two Ramen packets to rub together. Shit. That would be a shame. I really love Ramen.

  When the girls return with their coffees, Brody trails behind Anna then slides into the booth next to her. His mystery friend from earlier is gone, and I debate whether to call him out on it in front of Anna.

  “You ladies have any big plans for the weekend?” Brody asks.

  He’s holding an energy drink that sports a tagline claiming “big energy and big gains” along the side of the bottle.

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes as Anna says, “I don’t know. With the curfew and everything else, it might be safer to just stay in.”

  “Aw, come on. I just heard about a new place that just opened up in Bricktown called Risqué.”

  “I did hear the music is great,” Talia agrees reluctantly.

  As much as Talia loves to dance, I can tell she’s trying not to pressure Anna. But Brody tilts his head and nudges Anna playfully.

  “Come on, baby” he coaxes. “It’ll be fun. Tell you what, I’ll escort you lovely ladies there and back. So you have nothing to worry about.”

  Anna bites her lip.

  Talia’s uncertainty turns to a glimmer of excitement. “I could use a night to let loose,” she says.

  Anna glances at me.

  I shrug. For once, I’m not averse to the idea of peopling. I could use a chance to blow off some steam, too. “Let’s dance.”

  Anna nods at Brody, a shy smile curving her mouth. “All right, you’re hired.”

  “Yeah.” Brody pumps his fist. “My first stint as a bodyguard, and I get not one but three banging bodies to guard. This is going to be epic!”

  I manage to get through a full day of classes without any more howlers trying to start shit. But I’m still no closer to discovering any werewolves outside of Kash’s pack, nor do I have any idea how to find them. After my run in with Kash and Lynch at the grocery store, I don’t have it in me to out someone in his pack. Damn Lynch. He charmed me.

  The books I bought are, in the end, no help, either. And to make it worse, I find myself missing Kash. Not because he’s a werewolf but because he’s . . . I have no idea what he is except hot.

  And completely infuriating.

  The only bright spot is our girls’ night. Even if it includes Brody.

  “It’s been too long since we went dancin’,” Anna declares the moment I let myself into the apartment. Music pulses around me, and Anna hands me a bright red cocktail.

  “What’s this?” I ask, taking it and sipping before she can answer.

  “It’s called Devilish. It’s a dessert drink that needs some human testing,” she says.

  “It’s delicious,” I say, gulping more liberally.

  “And it lies like the devil. There are two different kinds of tequila in there, honey. Watch out.” She pivots on her heel with her hair spinning out behind her as she marches back to the kitchen island and retrieves her own drink.

  “Where’s Talia?” I ask.

  “Finishing up a call with her dad,” Anna says, pointing to Talia’s closed bedroom door.

  I grimace. “Good thing we’re drinking and dancing tonight.”

  “I’m gonna go get dressed. Brody will be here in about an hour.”

  She disappears into her room, and I head for my own, drink in hand.

  Talia’s not the only one who needs to let loose tonight. An entire evening pretending my problems don’t exist sounds like exactly what I need.

  An hour later, I’m dressed and nearly ready. Leaning over to trace eyeliner over my lids, I hear a knock on the front door.

  “Got it,” Anna calls.

  A moment later, Brody’s voice booms all the way down the hall to where I stand in the bathroom, huddled over the sink to get closer to the mirror.

  I hear Anna offer him a drink before hurrying back to grab her shoes and purse. Heavy footsteps make their way closer. In the reflection of the mirror, I see Brody stop at the open bathroom door, eyeing me.

  “Hey, Brody. What’s up?” I ask warily.

  “I was curious–since I’m supposed to be your bodyguard and all–is that creep still hanging around?”

  I wrinkle my brow, confused at his statement. “What creep?”

  “You know. Kash.”

  “I . . .” I frown, trying to remember if I ever said Kash’s name during Brody’s display of toxic masculinity. I’m almost certain I didn’t. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

  “Good.” Brody turns for the door.

  “Is your human canvas joining us tonight?” I ask b
efore he can disappear.

  This time, Brody’s brows wrinkle in confusion. “Who?”

  “That pretty brunette with all the tatts.”

  “Oh.” Something unreadable flashes in his eyes before his expression quickly shutters. “No.” His one-word answer makes it clear that subject is closed.

  Uh-huh. Two can play at this game.

  Brody turns and disappears back down the hall. I listen as he talks Talia into taking a shot while they wait for Anna and me to finish up. Finally, everyone’s ready, and we all toast the night with what’s left of the Devilish drinks then we’re out the door.

  The line for Risque is wrapped around the building by the time we arrive, but Talia bypasses it and marches straight up to the bouncer working the door.

  “Name,” he says flatly.

  “Talia DuPont.”

  The bouncer doesn’t even glance at the list before waving us through. “Go ahead.”

  I shake my head, never quite able to get over her heiress status. We all hurry past and shove through the doors into the warmth of the club. The moment I step inside, my senses prickle with the change in atmosphere. Music pulses and pumps through giant speakers, the bass hard enough to vibrate in my chest. The faint scent of cigars drifts down, and I look up to see VIP boxes overlooking the entire first floor. Shadowy faces watch over the crowd, toking on cigars and sipping on snifters. On my right is a circular bar with an LED-lit countertop that flashes from blue to pink to green and back to blue again. On my left, small tables and booths offer a more private experience. Straight ahead, marked by two LED-lit pillars, is the dance floor. The floor is lit with blue lights that pulse in time to the music.

  The colors are fun, and something in me itches to move along with them.

  Anna squeals, but the sound is nearly drowned out by the speakers. She grabs my wrist in one hand and Talia’s wrist in the other and drags us toward the bar. Not that much convincing is required. This place is amazing.

  “Classy,” Talia comments when we have our drinks.

  She turns and leans on the bar, her eyes on the dance floor. Already, her shoulders are twitching in time to the music.

  We drink fast then head for the dance floor.

  For the next couple of hours, it’s a routine. We dance until we’re ready to drop then regroup at the bar for refreshments. The playlist is a fun mixture of old and new, and the drinks are strong.

  My head buzzes with the effects of the alcohol, but I don’t mind it. Finally, the stress has lifted. I begin to feel looser. Less concerned with my mission–or my haters.

  Talia’s smile is bright as she sets her empty glass on the bar and, once again, tugs me toward the dance floor.

  “I need more time,” I groan. My feet ache in the heels I’m wearing, and even Anna looks wiped. Brody stands just behind where she’s perched on a barstool, his gaze sweeping the room.

  He’s been watchful all night, surprising me with the fact that, for once, he’s not pounding drinks like it’s his life’s mission to get wasted as fast as possible. His posture is relaxed but alert–almost like he’s looking for something.

  “Fine. Quitters,” Talia sighs, dropping my arm. “I don’t need you. Not when that hottie over there keeps winking at me. I’ll see you broads later.”

  She pushes off the bar, her long legs carrying her to where a tall, handsome stranger waits, smiling over the rim of his drink.

  A figure slides into the space Talia just vacated, and I frown at the sight of the newcomer. His scruffy, flushed face is overly relaxed. His eyes are glassy to the point of unseeing, but he grins at me, leaning in too close as he slurs, “You’re her, aren’t you? That werewolf chick. Oh, shit, babe. Babe. Come here. Check this out.”

  He waves a girl over, and she stumbles, only barely managing to catch herself before she almost plows into Anna.

  Brody reaches out a hand to steady her, but I don’t dare look back at him. Or her.

  My body tenses as the girl’s unfocused eyes widen. “Holy shit. The Girl Who Cried Werewolf is here!” The girl makes a face that’s somewhere between excited and mocking.

  The guy beside her sneers, no trace of excitement. “Looking for something hairy and huge, I got what you need right here.” He grabs his crotch, and my stomach clenches at the vulgar gesture. “Maybe the girl who cried werewolf could be the girl who cried my name.”

  “Eww, Donny.” The girl beside him laughs then raises her phone and aims it at me.

  I freeze.

  Before she can snap the photo, a hand reaches over my shoulder and knocks the phone out of her hands.

  The girl’s eyes widen as she shuffles over to retrieve it.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the guy demands. He glares as Brody steps around Anna and me, crowding the asshole.

  “I’m offering you a chance to carry your sorry ass away from this bar before I haul you out myself.” Brody’s voice, though barely discernible above the music, is more threatening than I’ve ever heard.

  The drunk asshole hesitates, both of them locked in some sort of staring contest.

  Someone brushes my elbow, and I cock my arm back, ready to throw a fist if necessary, but it’s only Talia.

  “What the hell’s going on?” she demands in my ear.

  The handsome stranger she left to dance with is nowhere in sight.

  Before I can answer, the drunk guy finally grabs his girl and steps back. Brody only leans in, further crowding the guy. Something passes between them, and the guy abruptly turns and walks away.

  “We’re leaving,” Brody announces.

  No one argues.

  Anna leads the way, and I’m sandwiched between her and Talia with Brody bringing up the rear as we hurry out into the cold night.

  “Can someone please tell me what the hell just happened?” Talia demands.

  In a wobbly voice, Anna fills her in while we walk to the car.

  “Motherfucker,” Talia hisses. She glances over her shoulder. “I should have kicked his ass.”

  “I’m surprised Brody didn’t,” Anna admits quietly.

  Beside me, Brody is utterly silent. His hands are fisted at his sides, and I can feel the slight tremble that I recognize as temper rolling off him in hot waves. Gratitude washes over me, and I reach out a hand to his arm.

  He glances down at the contact before meeting my eyes.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. He nods before turning to open the door for Anna.

  Relief floods my system as I sink into the back seat, but I don’t allow myself to feel it. Not yet. Not when I’m still reeling from what might have happened if Brody hadn’t stepped in. Or worse, if he hadn’t been there at all.

  Chapter 9

  The smell of pancakes wakes me, but mercifully my stomach doesn’t revolt. Relieved, I remember the aspirin and two glasses of water I chugged before bed. Works every time.

  Sunlight streams in through the blinds, and I roll toward the window, blinking as the events of last night return in a wave of disgust. It’s more than threatening. It’s embarrassing.

  “Ugh,” I groan, not bothering to reach for my phone.

  I don’t even want to know what the internet’s saying today.

  Or maybe ever.

  Someone knocks lightly on my door. “Romy, breakfast,” Anna calls softly.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  I wait for her to protest, but she doesn’t answer. A moment later, I listen to her footsteps shuffle away, leaving me alone.

  If Anna’s given up, I know it’s bad.

  I’m ready to bury my face beneath my pillow and count today as a loss when there’s a scratch at my window. I look up in time to see the glass slide open and a familiar, broad-shouldered body climb easily through. Well, easy compared to how impossible it would be for any human to scale two stories and gracefully enter someone’s apartment uninvited.

  I sit up in an instant. Surprise is followed quickly by horror as I realize where he’s about to step. “K
ash, wait—”

  But it’s too late.

  The moment his boots touch the floor, my booby trap is tripped.

  In a crazy, way-too-fast chain of events that involve a broom handle, Talia’s stiletto, Anna’s bowling ball, and one of my bras—Kash is covered in olive oil then cooking flour before I can finish my warning.

  For a split second, I’m shocked that it actually worked. The internet would have been proud. Then I realize I’ve just coated a bad-tempered werewolf in a breading that would make Paula Deen proud.

  Kash stands, unmoving, and I can only stare, wide-eyed and a little unsure if I’ve gone too far, as I wait for him to respond to my attack.

  “I don’t even know if I should ask,” he says finally.

  Puffs of flour float in the air around him as he breathes, and I lose my battle. Side splitting laughter erupts from me, and I quickly shove my face in my pillow to muffle the sounds. When I finally get myself under control, I slowly lower the pillow, inch by inch, and take in Kash.

  “Care to explain why I’m breaded like carnival food?”

  His voice is low, but I can’t tell if it’s because he’s angry or trying to breathe around the mouthful of white powder he’s just ingested.

  I bite my tongue in an attempt to keep a straight face.

  “I…” I pause and take a breath to calm myself. “Um, rigged the window in case you tried breaking in again.”

  “I can see that.” He looks down at himself, and I have to ball my hands into fists, digging my nails into my skin to keep from laughing again.

  He looks like a hot dough boy.

  He clears his throat. “I guess I should have called.”

  His voice is dry, brimming with sarcasm. It’s all I can do not to choke, but my voice is steady when I respond.

  “Or you could have used the front door like a normal person,” I point out.

  He glances around the room, a little lost. “Is there a towel or . . .?”

  “Oh, sorry! Sure.” I jump up and grab my towel from where it hangs on the back of my door then hold it out.

  Kash takes it and goes to work wiping his face clean.