by Dawn Steele
But –
Then she saw him! Taran! Or rather, his back – immaculately clad in a Savile Row bespoke suit, as always. Press conference! Of course he would do it in the encampment of the people he was trying to save!
She didn’t need to feign the wave of nausea that suddenly hit her gut.
“What’s wrong?” Ronnie said.
Violet’s hand crept to her midriff. “Ugh, cramp!”
Taran turned.
Arghhhhh!
Violet dropped to the ground and swiftly curled her body into a ball. She averted her face from Taran’s gaze.
“Owwwww,” she moaned. She wasn’t completely faking. She did feel awfully nauseous for failing to connect the dots.
Ronnie put his arm around her.
“What’s wrong?” He was clearly distressed. “Do you need a healer?”
“Yes!” Violet gasped.
Footsteps approached.
Taran’s voice: “Is everything all right? Is she OK?”
No! Don’t come any closer!
“It’s OK. We’ll take care of it.” Ronnie knelt by Violet. “We’ll get you to Sienna.” To Taran, he said, “So sorry. I’m Ronnie, the alpha of this clan, and I’ll be right with you.”
Violet kept her head down and averted as Ronnie scooped her up in his strong arms. She was surprised by how effortlessly he lifted her, because she was not a small woman. His body was very warm, almost like a furnace. She wondered if this was a werewolf thing or if it was just Ronnie.
Cameras clicked. Oh, God! The press was lapping this up.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you away from those vultures,” Ronnie murmured. She could feel his voice vibrating through his chest.
She hoped Taran wouldn’t become suspicious as she let Ronnie carry her away in the direction of the trailers.
*
Ronnie was like a mother hen, fussing over Violet as he laid her in Sienna the healer’s RV. Sienna had a compartment that was used as a sickbed.
“Give her whatever it takes, please,” Ronnie told Sienna. His handsome forehead was creased with worry.
He was really concerned. Violet was touched.
She waved him away. “Go on. You don’t want to keep your benefactor waiting.”
“You’re going to be OK,” Ronnie affirmed, still hovering at the door.
Sienna shooed him away. “Go on with you. You need to make nice with that British gentleman to get us funds now, you hear?”
Ronnie lingered, then reluctantly walked away.
“I’ll be back soon,” he promised.
Sienna shook her head as he left.
“Such a nice young man you have there,” she said. “Now let’s take a look at you.”
Violet lay on the bed. The cramp had unsurprisingly disappeared. “I think I’m feeling better now. It was just a wave.”
She hoped Sienna wasn’t a quack. Well, without formal medical training, she would have to be some sort of a quack. But hopefully not too much of a quack.
“You can never be too sure,” Sienna replied. She was a forty-something woman with grey streaks in her otherwise dark hair. She raised Violet’s shirt and unbuttoned the top of her jeans.
“He’s not my young man,” Violet said as Sienna’s fingers probed her abdomen.
“And why not? He’s a perfectly strapping young specimen of wolfhood. You could do far worse.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You have to be, soon. You’re already well past your prime. Ronnie can’t wait forever.”
“Well, I don’t want him to wait. I want him to move on.”
Even as Violet said that, she had to admit she was more than a little intrigued by Ronnie. She found his very obvious dominance a turn on. He was indeed very different from Taran’s solicitous gentlemanliness.
“He won’t move on. Once a wolf latches onto you, he won’t let go. He’ll be like a dog with a rubber bone.”
Violet wanted to ask “Why?” but she remembered that these were werewolves, not humans. Obsession had to be a werewolf thing.
“Why me?” she asked Sienna. “He can have his pick of females, or so I’ve heard.”
“Werewolf chemistry is a funny thing. The boys don’t get to pick who they have the urge to mate with. Especially now that Ronnie is the alpha. His father was that way, too, bless his heart. Gregory chased Ronnie’s mother, Daia, till she succumbed to him.”
Violet wanted to ask about what had happened to Ronnie’s parents, but she figured she was already supposed to know. It was something she could ask Kendra later.
“Do you know what being a handmaiden is like?” she asked.
“Oh, he’s asked you to be his handmaiden now, has he? Well, many she-wolves would kill for the privilege.”
“Why?”
“Can’t sense anything. In your tummy, I mean.” Sienna took her hands off Violet. “Though, there is something not quite right about your body. I need to take a further look.”
“No, thanks,” Violet said quickly. Perhaps Sienna could detect the fact that she wasn’t a werewolf. She got up. “I suddenly remember there is something I need to do. Urgently.”
Sienna gave her a funny look. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I need to clear up all my chores if I’m to be Ronnie’s handmaiden.” Violet quickly got dressed again. “How much do I owe you for the consultation?”
Belatedly, she remembered that she forgot to bring any money. But then, werewolves don’t deal with money in their own community, do they? That was something Kendra mentioned.
Sienna waved her away. “Just bring a pot of that marvelous rabbit stew of yours next time.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve been trying to get that recipe from your mother for years. You sure you won’t impart the family secrets?”
Violet laughed. “She’d turn in her grave.”
“It’s best you carry on the tradition then. A handmaiden’s job is easy enough. Just make sure Ronnie doesn’t get hurt too badly, and stop him if he goes too far.”
Too far in what? Again, she was supposed to know. So she shouldn’t ask.
“I will,” Violet said. “Thanks again.”
“Bye. And come back if those cramps return.”
Violet stepped out into the sunshine, wondering if Taran was going to ask to take a tour of the encampment. But that was the least of her problems. All she had to do was stay out of sight. Now she had to figure out how to be Ronnie’s handmaiden when she had no clue what it meant!
THE DINNER DATE
Violet sure had a lot of beautiful clothes. Kendra selected a midnight blue dress that had an asymmetrical hem. She had never owned anything so beautiful in her life. She tended to go for simple shirts and jeans because that was what her mother had left her. Whatever meager earnings she made, she put it into her ‘escape’ fund.
Now she had truly escaped.
Well, for a month at least.
She went to the magnificent hotel bathroom. Violet had her makeup case in there. Kendra rarely used makeup, but she now applied blue eye shadow and red lipstick. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to look her best for Taran. The churning in her tummy suggested that she was really excited to be having dinner with the man she slept next to last night.
But what would they talk about?
She had checked her emails. There was nothing from Violet. Damn. She hoped Violet hadn’t forgotten her password.
The door to the suite opened. Kendra’s heart leaped.
“Violet?” Taran strode into view. He stopped short when he saw Kendra. His face softened. “Wow, you look beautiful.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have made an effort, Kendra thought self-consciously. After all, Violet wanted her to give him the request for extra space. Tonight, Kendra avowed. Tonight I’ll tell him.
But Taran looked impressively handsome in his double-breasted, dark blue suit. There was something about glasses on a man that Kendra absolutely loved. They made Taran look both serious and mature despite his boyish good
looks.
“Thank you,” Kendra said. “How was your day?”
“Splendid.” He crossed the room. He held out his arms.
She took a step backward, not sure how to respond.
He flinched, a gesture that was not lost on her.
He cleared his throat. “It was splendid. The press conference went well. I hope we’ll garner a lot of publicity after this.”
“Tell me again, why are you doing this for a community you barely know?”
Kendra was curious. Most people tend to be afraid of the werewolves. She had heard many a rumor (some true, others not) regarding her clan:
“They eat humans.”
“They worship the Devil.”
“They have sex with anyone and everyone.”
“They can have four wives.”
“Their women are uneducated and totally hot.”
“Their women are slaves to their men, and they have to serve the man’s every whim.”
“They’re like gypsies. They’re doomed to wander.”
“They’re cutthroats and thieves.”
Taran eyed her steadfastly.
“Because I can. Plenty of people champion newsworthy causes – sick babies, children with cancer, landmine victims, ALS. I decided long ago to champion the underdog. Causes no one else wants to champion because they’re deemed less press-worthy or not relatable to the general public. Werewolf communities, like the Amish and Penans of Borneo, are a vanishing breed. All attempts must be made to preserve their way of living.”
“Even if their way of living is backward and in need of an overhaul?”
“I take it that you don’t approve?” He smiled.
“Oh, I approve of you championing underdogs, or underwolves in this matter. But I don’t approve of a society that denigrates its women.”
“You’ve done some research. I never knew you to be so interested before.”
“Well, I decided to read up on them while you were out today. Everyone deserves equal rights. If anything, you should be championing that instead of preserving their way of life.”
Taran looked suitably impressed. “Maybe you should take up their cause.”
“Maybe I should.”
“Anything that allows us to spend more time together is right up my alley.”
Kendra smiled. Taran’s British accent was positively charming. She could probably listen to it all night.
“Shall we go for dinner?” Taran did not hold out his arm. She knew why. He was afraid of rejection.
Right. The dinner she was supposed to break up ask for space from him.
“Sure,” she said.
He smiled. It was a very beguiling smile. “Let’s go.”
*
Dinner was at a very fancy restaurant. Kendra had only seen this restaurant from afar. She had certainly never dreamt that she would be dining in it today.
She had to try very hard not to make it appear as though she was sampling everything for the first time.
“How’s the steak?” Taran asked.
“Mmmmm, excellent.” Kendra’s mouth was full.
“You never used to like rare steak. Why now?”
I don’t?
Kendra swallowed hastily. “I thought I’d give it a try.”
Taran cut a piece of Atlantic cod from his plate and placed it on hers. “Try this.”
Kendra speared it and put it in her mouth. “Mmmmm.”
“You’re getting your appetite back. You haven’t been eating very much lately.”
I haven’t?
“I skipped lunch,” she said sheepishly.
He put down his fork. His blue green eyes were very serious.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a long time. I know you’ve been unhappy lately. We’ve been fighting so much. Sometimes over the most trivial things.”
“Uh huh.” How to do this? Kendra wondered.
Taran paused.
“I want you to know that I’m willing to start all over again. To make up for whatever it is that we did to each other. I think what we have is too precious to throw away. So I’ll do whatever it takes. Counseling. Couples therapy. Or going off on a holiday, just the two of us.”
Kendra’s mouth went dry. Taran looked so earnest and beseeching that a shudder went right through her soul. She could fall for this man, if she were honest with herself. He was persistent yet gentle. So unlike the relentless, demanding Ronnie.
This was when she was supposed to ask for space.
Go on now.
That was what Violet wanted to do. But it was not what Kendra wanted to do. Kendra wanted to go back to England with this handsome, open-hearted young man and see the world through his eyes, and through her own eyes.
She could always ask for space once she got to London.
“All right,” she said in a hoarse voice.
Taran’s smile was genuine and very beautiful. Another pang pricked Kendra’s chest. No one had ever looked at her like that before.
“Thank you,” he said.
His hand reached across the table for hers. She clasped his hand back.
Oops. Now what had she gotten herself into?
HANDMAIDEN
Handmaiden . . . handmaiden. The best person to solicit advice from was obviously Kendra.
Violet locked herself in Kendra’s trailer and tried to log onto her iPad. She typed in Kendra’s password. Now what was it again? It was some sort of flower.
Oh, shit.
She couldn’t remember what flower.
She typed in: DAFFODIL.
The system log replied: WRONG PASSWORD.
Uh oh.
She typed in: HYACINTH
WRONG PASSWORD. YOU ARE ALLOWED ONE MORE TRY.
Violet froze.
Shit, shit, shit. And she couldn’t even call Kendra to find out because she didn’t have a cellphone. She wasn’t sure anyone in this community had one. Besides, if they did, what could she say, right?
Knock, knock. Can I borrow your cellphone to call my doppelganger who’s pretending to be me right now?
She put away the iPad, afraid to try anymore. She stared at the door of her trailer.
She was all alone in this.
*
Handmaiden Day One.
Violet had completely no idea what to expect. She showed up at Ronnie’s RV at the appointed time and knocked.
The door opened immediately. Ronnie stood in the doorway, beaming.
“Good, you’re here,” he said. “Are you packed and ready to go?”
Violet gaped. “Go where?”
“On tour.”
Are you a rock star or something? she wanted to ask but couldn’t. So she settled for, “But I haven’t packed.”
“OK, go pack. We’re taking this baby to Oklahoma City.”
*
Violet had never been to Oklahoma City. She never had a reason to go. Now, as the RV trundled down the freeway, she understood why.
Oklahoma was virtually featureless. Flat farmland after flat farmland greeted them, along with cows, oil derricks, and wheat. There was so much that Violet wanted to ask Ronnie, but she knew she had to stay mum and pretend she knew exactly what she was doing.
Conversations were tough.
“So when we get there, keep your eyes peeled,” Ronnie said.
“OK.”
What for?
“You got antibiotics on you?”
Huh?
“I can always run out to a pharmacy to get them.”
“I keep forgetting. You’re new at this.”
“Well, Marissa isn’t telling me anything.” Truth.
“Don’t worry. There’s a first aid kit in the back. Along with a backpack.”
Violet peered into the back of the RV. There was indeed a backpack on the floor.
“You need to pack that backpack. Towels.”
“OK.”
Violet mentally took down notes.
“First aid kit. Bandages. Water bottles.”
“Gotcha.” She was very good at looking knowledgeable.
Ronnie was driving the RV. He smiled at her.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Kendra.”
I’m kinda glad to be on this adventure, too.
“Uh huh,” she said. Maybe now was the time to lay down the foundations. “Say, Ronnie?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think we’ve been following the old ways for too long?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly that. We haven’t updated with the times. Our females still don’t get educated.”
“What do you need education for? You have us males to provide for you.”
She took a deep breath. “Maybe that’s not what we want. We want to provide for ourselves, or at least be given the choice to.”
He eyed her quizzically. “You seriously want to work out there, Kendra?”
“I’m already working for you.”
“That’s different. You’re under my protection, and you’re still part of the clan. You go out there, they treat you different once they know you’re a werewolf. Believe me, I should know.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Whatever I say won’t make a difference, because you’re going to see it for yourself. It’s not easy being different in the human world, Kendra. People know you’re a wolf, they start doing all sorts of things they won’t normally do.”
“Like what?”
He shook his head.
He said softly, “My Mom was the sweetest, nicest she-wolf there was.”
Obviously, his mother wasn’t around anymore, but Violet knew better than to ask. She just nodded comfortingly.
“But she was in Wichita one day when Dad was touring, and she stepped outside the motel to get a coffee. Someone came by, snatched her bag, and pushed her to the ground. She hit her head against a pipe.” Ronnie’s voice choked. “She went into a coma and never recovered. Three weeks later, she slipped away.”
Violet was floored.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“But I guess you know the story already. You visited her, too, when she was in the coma.”
I did.
“Yes,” Violet said gently. “But sometimes, it’s still good to talk about the things that hurt us most.”
