Masked SheWolf

by Yara Gharios

  "It's fine," I finally say, loud enough for him to hear over the music. "I can do two rounds."

  "I insist," he says with the most authoritative tone I've ever heard.

  He sounds a little commanding, which is kind of offensive. No matter who Logan Underwood is, he's got no right to boss me around. I'm not even part of his pack, which would have been half acceptable if that were the case. I start to glare at him when I notice something else in his stare; it's almost as if he's asking me a question.

  A twitch in his hand then catches my attention, although it goes unnoticed with the few people watching, not including my wasted brother who is now passed out on a couch. I glance down at his knuckles then back at his face, and I suddenly understand. He's telling me to play along. I'm not sure whether that means that he's not really trying to give me an order or not, but I suppose if I were to oppose him right now, it would look bad, so I listen.

  "Do you have a car that can fit eight- or actually ten?" I add, remembering that he and I will probably need seats in there, too.

  One of his eyebrows twitches up and I see the ghost of a smile flicker across his face. He doesn't say anything; he just nods and turns in the direction of the front door. That's when I catch him by the arm, and I feel a spark of electricity go through his shirt to my fingers. Did he rub his feet on a carpet or something?

  "I need to get my brothers and their friends from upstairs," I tell him when he looks back at me questioningly.

  Logan leans toward one of the guys on his left. He notices my hand still on his arm and stares at it until I let go and raise both hands up in surrender. He looks at me directly in the eye for a couple of seconds before he goes to talk to the guy. A chill runs down my spine. Jeez, this guy seriously knows how to wordlessly assert his power.

  The dude Logan was talking to comes up to me with two of his friends. He gestures to the stairs as if to say, Lead the way.

  In five minutes, we manage to carry all four of my brothers plus Danny's human friends into the back of a plain black Ford van that is undoubtedly one of the pack's many big vehicles, all without saying a word to each other.

  The passed out people in the back are draped over each other by the time we leave the pack house. I can't even begin to imagine what it will be like for Nico's mother when she opens the door for us.

  Logan remains quiet while we're still inside the compound. It's just me and him in the front, so it's pretty awkward. But after we exit the gate and the music has long since died down, he surprises me by breaking the silence in the most unexpected ways.

  "Thank you."

  Perplexed, I frown at him. "For what?"

  "Going along with the authoritative alpha thing," he specifies. "I didn't know whether you'd get what I was trying to say or not."

  My face relaxes when I understand. "Oh. Yeah, sure, no problem."

  Another awkward moment of silence passes. He looks at me sideways once, like he's searching for something.

  "Why did you play along?" he then asks curiously.

  I shrug because I'm not really sure myself. "I don't know. I guess it just seemed like... like you needed something."

  I feel so pathetic saying that, but he gets what I mean, thankfully. "Yeah. I just wanted to get out of there."

  "Why?"

  He sighs and grips the steering wheel. "Guess I just don't really like parties."

  The admission takes me by surprise, but we're already at Nico's place and I can't respond just yet. Without a word, Logan and I step out of the van and onto Nico's front porch. I knock on the door, and when his mother opens it a couple of minutes later, she looks as if she was just in bed sleeping.

  "Hi Mrs. Martinez," I greet her politely. "Sorry to wake you, but there's someone who needs to be tucked into bed."

  She's furious when I tell her that her son and his friends snuck out to go to a party and mumbles something in Spanish about teaching him a lesson. Or something like that; my Spanish isn't really good, and I'm just assuming from the context of the situation. Logan and I haul the four humans into the house and place them on beds and couches, as Nico's mom tells us.

  Back in the van, my brothers have started snoring rhythmically. It's kind of funny to watch and listen to, so I take out my cell phone and film a video of them while Logan is pulling out of Mrs. Martinez' driveway. Once I'm satisfied with its length, I lock it with a password to use as leverage for the future.

  From the corner of my eye, I can see that Logan is aware of what I'm doing, based on his movements. I can sense that there's something on his mind concerning my behavior with my brothers, but I don't think he'll say anything. To avoid awkward silences as much as possible, I think it's best if we keep conversation flowing.

  "So why did you really need to leave the pack house?" I ask once I'm done and have put my phone away. "I mean, it's your party, after all, and you barely even got here ten minutes before. It couldn't have sucked that early on for you."

  It takes him a moment to reply, and I almost think he's not going to. "It's not really my scene," he finally says. "It wasn't even my idea, it was Reena's. But the pack could use a little fun right now."

  I frown. "Why do you say that like it means something bad happened?"

  "Something did," he confirms, but he doesn't say what.

  "Sorry, it's none of my business," I acknowledge and plan to change the subject.

  "Our old alpha died two years ago," he reveals.

  Speechless, I just stare at him until I settle for the only thing I can say honestly. "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "It's okay."

  I hesitate. "Your father?" I guess.

  Alpha titles are almost always passed down by family. Unless they don't have kids, in which case it goes to the next of kin. Sometimes, the pack will need or want a new leader; selecting one becomes a completely different process for each pack.

  "Yeah," he sighs. "He was... a good man."

  I've never dealt with grieving people before, so I have no idea what to do here. The only way I'm able to approach this is by not focusing on the tragedy of it. "So, what happened to the title? You immediately became alpha?"

  He glances at me with something resembling relief, but it's too fleeting to tell. "Not exactly. I only became alpha a month ago, when I turned 21. My uncle was the acting alpha in the meantime, because I don't have any siblings. He handled my training until I was at the legal age to receive the title."

  Wow. I can't imagine how terrible it must have been for him; right after his father died, he had to start intensive training, and then two years later, he had to take on a huge responsibility. I was right when I told Marianna he was younger than Connor. Logan's barely reached the legal age, which is when he was supposed to begin training to become alpha, not take the title straight away like he did. It's not hard to deduce from his general demeanor that he's had to grow up fast.

  "Sounds to me like you're more in need of fun than the rest of the pack is," I comment.

  Logan's lips wordlessly thin into a hard line. A moment later, we turn the corner onto my street, and I point out my house to him. As he pulls up, I hear him whisper, "It's not that simple."

  Opening the door, I ask, "Why not?"

  The two of us go to the side door of the van to start unloading my brothers. "Just... too many things to take on at once, I suppose. I can't afford to let loose and have something happen when I'm not in the right state of mind to handle it."

  I smile ruefully to the side. "Believe it or not, I can actually relate to that," I confess.

  That's when Logan does something completely unexpected; he smiles. Well, it's a half smile, and he suppresses it after just a second, but I definitely saw it.

  So he's not made of stone, then? I jokingly think to myself.

  "Yeah, I kind of noticed your family being overprotective," he states.

  "You can say that again," I grumble. "I'm always the designated driver, and I've never had a drink in my life. Not that I care much about getting drunk
, I'd just like to know what it's like, at least; to let go."

  Okay, so I lied; it does bother me a little that I'm not allowed to drink. There are some things I miss out on that might be cool to experience every once in a while. But it's really not that big a deal. I've managed just fine without it.

  "You've got plenty of time," Logan reassures me.

  As he carries Connor and I haul Daniel, it dawns on me that I don't feel as awkward around Logan anymore, nor am I as intimidated by him as usual. We're just two people having a semi-normal conversation. It feels the same as regular people developing a normal friendship.

  When we get to the front door, I pull my keys out of my pocket and open it. My parents are most probably still out; it's only eleven. They usually stay out late on date night, sometimes even get a hotel room.

  I show Logan the way to my brothers' bedrooms and he drops my eldest on his bed while I leave my twin on his. Before we go back to the van for the other two, I fish out Connor's car keys from his pocket. I'm going to need to go back to the compound for it. Surprisingly, I'm not as disappointed about going back as I was when we first got there. I'm actually kind of glad.

  Once Mason and Nathan are tucked into their respective beds in their shared bedroom, Logan and I go back to the van. Again, we get to talking while he drives, and this time, he's the one that starts the conversation.

  "So is this normal for you guys?" he asks, almost sounding like he's joking for whatever reason.

  "What is?"

  "The four of them going to parties and having fun while you just wait for them to be out of it enough to drive them home?" he specifies.

  My eyebrows shoot up, impressed that he guessed it spot on. "Actually, yeah. I'm not much of a party person either. Plus I'm the youngest, so I don't get as many free passes. I'm always stuck with the role of the responsible one who has to take care of them at the end of the day."

  Logan looks at me again, and this time, he doesn't try to hide his smile. "I guess we have more in common than we both thought."

  "Guess so," I say back with a small grin.

  There's a moment of comfortable silence. "You're okay, Michael; you and your family."

  I chuckle. "Thanks, you're not so bad yourself." I pause. "As for your pack, I'm not really sure," I joke.

  He snickers. "You're a small pack, it's just our numbers that are intimidating for you," he assures me. "Once you get to know us, you'll see how great it actually is to be a member of this pack."

  His affectionate statement reminds me of the meeting at Rod's Diner the other day, and I decide it's safe to mention it now. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

  "Sure."

  "Why did you invite us to join your pack?"

  Like a flipped switch, he is tense again, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. "It's called common courtesy," he replies dryly.

  Whatever moment we may have had is shattered. I just had to push my luck, didn't I? Obviously, it's too soon to ask such a question. We still don't know each other well enough to be that open.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it," I promise him.

  "It's okay," he says with the same tone he used on me before, at the party, and every time I've seen him before that. The awkwardness and intimidate feeling return with it. "We're here."

  He drops me off right next to Connor's car and remains in the same spot while I hop into it. I feel kind of guilty, all of a sudden, even though, theoretically, I know I haven't done anything wrong. When I drive away, I glance at the rear-view mirror and see him still sitting in his van.

  Chapter 12

  Daniel

  I wake up the next day in my own bed. My memory of last night is a little hazy, but I remember the important things. Dread begins to settle in the pit of my stomach.

  "Shit!" I whisper.

  Frantically, I jump out of bed and start searching for my phone, hoping to God that I remembered to take her number.

  I still don't know her name!

  I am sure it was mentioned when we had the meeting at Rod's Diner, but I can't remember it. I scroll through the contacts list and am about to give up when I land on the last one. Zoey. That's not a name I remember inputting myself. Crossing my fingers, I dial and wait. She answers on the third ring.

  "Morning Danny," her voice replies cheerfully. "I see you found my number. I had to search your pockets while you were unconscious to get your phone, sorry about that. How's your head?"

  I ignore her question, even though my head is actually throbbing. "What the hell happened last night?"

  "You... don't remember?" Zoey asks innocently.

  "Refresh my memory," I sarcastically say.

  "We talked for a bit, shared some secrets, then we danced, and when your twin interrupted us, you passed out on the couch and she and Logan drove you home," she confirms my suspicions. "We didn't sleep together or anything, although you did try to kiss me."

  The last part doesn't even register. All I'm thinking is, Shit! I just spilled the biggest secret in our family. I have a lot of damage control to do.

  "Zoey, you're nice and all, but if you repeat what was said last night, not only will everybody think you've gone crazy, but I will personally make your life miserable," I threaten. "I've made much older girls than you cry before, and that's only because they wouldn't stop complaining about me calling them back, so you better not piss me off."

  I don't make it a habit to scare girls, but there is nothing I won't do to make sure word doesn't get out about Dylan. My parents finding out I slipped up is an even scarier scenario. Plus, I have a horrible hangover, and I don't care enough to spare her feelings right now.

  "Wow," Zoey says after a moment of silence. "You weren't kidding when you said you'd be a jerk in the morning."

  "You have no idea."

  At first, she sounds almost hurt, but then her voice hardens into anger. "Tell you what. The pack's having a bonfire camp in the forest tonight at six. It's in the clearing where the river runs the widest. If you convince your family to come, then I'll consider not ratting you out. And it was Logan's idea, so you don't have to worry about showing up uninvited."

  I wait for the punch line. This can't be the way to buy her silence. It can't be that easy.

  "That's it?" I finally ask.

  That's when she delivers the blow. "Well, I was thinking that while we're there, we could have a talk. But if you try to avoid me, I might just have one with your sister instead."

  I press my lips in a tight line. "Fine," I growl. "I'll find a way to get my brothers to come."

  "Good," she replies in a sickeningly sweet voice. "And Daniel? Little piece of advice. Don't threaten a person who has something to use against you. And don't ever piss me off again."

  She hangs up. I stare at my phone in shock. For a fifteen year old, she sure can be a bitch.

  On the surface, it may seem like an easy task to tell my brothers about the bonfire. However, my parents are difficult to fool. That's why I'm going to have to handle this with a lot of care.

  The really hard part is playing Michael. Our family is very tight, but if there's only one person I'd tell everything to, it's my twin. We've always been able to guess what the other one is thinking. That's why it's so easy for us to share everything. One wrong move and he will know I'm hiding something.

  I'm not very surprised when I check the time and find that it's almost noon. I was so out of it last night that I almost slept through the entire morning. Mom, Dad and Mason, who looks worse than I feel, are the only ones downstairs when I join them, but soon enough, Nathan and Connor are with us.

  "Well you boys look terrific," Dad jokes.

  His voice feels like a hammer on my brain.

  Connor is the first to groan and speak. "Nobody talk for a while, please."

  Aside from chuckling once, they mercifully listen to our plea. The four of us spend an hour nursing our hangovers in complete silence, while Mom and Dad prepare lunch. By the time the food is ready, we're okay enou
gh to act like we normally do. Mason and I set the table, and the other two help bring out the food.

  "Danny, get your brother," Mom says when everything's ready.

  "Mickey!" I yell. "Lunch!"

  "That is not what I meant," she objects after nearly dropping a lasagna plate.

  "Okay!" he replies.

  I shrug. "It worked, didn't it?"

  "Where's he been this whole time?" Nathan asks.

  Dad frowns. "I don't know. I would have assumed he's playing the piano, but it's been quiet all morning. Wonder what he was up to."

  "Probably online gaming," Connor suggests.

  That's when he comes strolling down casually and sits opposite me at the table.

  "So what's good today?" he asks.

  "I made enough lasagna to feed twelve normal people, so that should be enough for you dogs," Mom teases.

  She always cooks more than is normal for a regular family, and there's usually a joke in there somewhere about our werewolf side making us eat like animals.

  "How was the party last night at the pack house, boys?" Dad asks while we all scramble over each other to get as much food on our plates as possible before it disappears. We all hear the unspoken 'now can we talk about it?' in his voice, with the exception of Mickey.

  "Honestly, there is enough this time!" Mom complains when we make a mess of the table, as usual.

  There never is enough; we always finish it faster than she takes to be done with half of hers. I think she's afraid of getting us fat if she feeds us too much, so she tries to minimize the quantity on purpose, but she just doesn't know when it's too little. She may have been living with werewolves for more than half her life, but she can never really comprehend how fast our metabolisms consume things.

  "It was good," Mason is the first to answer Dad's question.

  I'm waiting for the perfect opportunity to speak so I can casually let the bonfire slip, like I'm just making conversation.

  Mickey snorts and shoves his fork into the lasagna before taking a huge bite. "You were sick less than an hour after we got there."