Draik explodes, pale eyes hot. “And you know what I found out about Sofia!”
My voice is grave, my look unwavering. “I do.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing? You’re a goddamn werewolf in that picture, Xavier. That’s not a coincidence and the more you stay around that family the greater the chances of them finding out that shit ain’t a kid’s wild imagination. You have all of us to think about. And right now, when we’re up against Kruglov?”
“Alright, enough,” I mutter.
But he’s not done.
“This is not the time to play house with a widow and her poor kids just because you killed their sick ass—”
Leaping up, I face him and snarl, “Enough!”
“You know what I see? You holding hands with their mother.”
“I did NOT hold hands with her today.” It’s true. Not today, I didn’t. I held something more intimate. “I just took them to get burgers and paid for it. She has to get a second job now. Because of me!”
But I know that’s not the real reason I took them out. I wanted to spend more time with her. I like being around her. I feel different when I’m in her company. And I can’t stop thinking about fucking her senseless.
War clears his throat really loudly on purpose. Draik and I are about to fight. War does it again, “AHEM!”
“WHAT?!”
“It’s my fault. I set them up. She came to the morgue today. I think to find out more about her husband. I don’t know. We never got around to talking about it. I knew Xavier had the hots for her so I texted him to come over. If anything happens, it’s on me.”
“You’re fucking adorable, you know that,” Curragh grumbles at him, reaching over and taking War’s glass for him. “Enough for you.”
“Hey!” War objects, frowning and reaching for it back. But Curragh drinks it down. This makes Draik and I back away from each other, each of us trying not to laugh, still holding onto our egos. My confrontational, blonde fucker of a friend finally sits the fuck down and asks for the bottle. I cross around and take my place on the couch again. But I’m not happy with how this went down. He pours a glass and War thinks he’s going to give it to him, to help out since Curragh took War’s glass. Draik shakes his head, pale brown eyes dancing. This cracks the tension once and for all. Laughing in various degrees, the three of us watch as War stands up and grabs the bottle back himself.
“Fucking guys. When are you gonna stop messing with me?”
“You know the answer to that,” Curragh smirks. To me he says, “The kid knows.”
My smile vanishes. “He’ll forget as he grows up.”
“Maybe,” Draik mutters. “But stay away from them anyway.”
Jaw ticking, I look over at him. “I just wanted to get them a fucking meal. Drop it.” He waits. “I won’t see them again.”
He downs a gulp of bourbon directly from the bottle and walks away with it to stare outside.
After a bit of awkward silence, War mumbles, “Did he have to take the bottle with him?” and Curragh starts laughing. But Draik and I don’t join in this time.
Kara walks in. She’s got her gun in her hand. At the sight of it I go tense. Curragh leaps up and demands, “What’s up.”
Frowning, she tells us, “I really hate to say this because I don’t want to scare anyone but…Alisa’s not home.”
Xavier
With a storm brewing behind his eyes, War jumps up. “What?!”
Kara nods. “We were supposed to watch Le Femme Nikita and she’s not there.”
War’s face changes under a gamut of emotions. “Fuck! What the hell am I doing here? I should have been with her, watching over her. If Alexander has her, I…Where is she? What do you know?”
Worried, Kara says to him, “We were supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago. She’s not answering her phone. And I normally hear her moving around above our apartment but there’s nothing. I was going to knock, but I came here first.”
We all head quickly down the hall to War and Alisa’s new home. Glass is in my bloodstream, the smell of fear coming off War amping up the anxiety in me. He’s about to kick the door in when I mutter, “Use the key.”
He blinks a couple times, but does as I suggested. Their loft is empty. I haven’t been in here since we moved all their crap inside, and it registers that the place is put together like they’ve been here for years. Pictures are on the walls. Everything in its place. It looks homey, not like the medieval and bare bones style of the place I share with Draik.
But there’s no Alisa McKinley.
War starts growling and Curragh grabs him in a bear hug from behind, pinning his arms to his side. “We need you talking. Do not shift!”
War has no control when it comes to that girl. We all know it now. We learned the hard way.
I position myself in front of him. His eyes are glowing yellow and I say in my clearest and sternest voice, “Where could she have gone?”
“No where. She has nowhere to go.”
“What about picking up that paycheck at Spybar?” Draik suggests, his voice also sober and firm. We are hoping for the best. Under the circumstances of what we’ve been going through, we never get it.
War shakes his head, nails as sharp as they can get. He’s so close to going full-blown wolf that even Curragh, the strongest of us, is having a hard time. We are all stronger in our wolf forms. If War turns, he will run into the streets of Chicago and we can’t let that happen. We can’t chase him as wolves. We’ll be stuck hunting down an enormous wolf on the busy city streets and having to explain why. And that’ll inevitably point back to the Sam Foster’s unexplainable demise.
“FOCUS! Are you sure?”
He snarls at me like I’m the enemy, “She picked it up weeks ago.”
Draik and I exchange a quick look. Curragh’s face is grim, veins popping on his neck under the strain. “I like him better when he was scrawny,” Curragh grates.
A sound in the hallway whips our heads around. Kara’s been waiting with her back to the far wall to protect herself in case War’s wolf tears out of here in a hurry. She turns to check out who’s coming but Curragh’s not having it. He will not endanger his true love. He shouts at her, “STAY THERE!” Her breath catches as she meets her husband’s eyes. She gives a curt nod, and raises her gun, aiming it on the empty doorway that we left open.
Small footsteps come at us, walking more quickly now that their owner heard Curragh’s hollering. Draik and I turn around, nostrils flaring. Well, fuck me.
“Thank God,” Draik mumbles to me.
I nod.
Alisa walks in with a big white plastic bag, a silver Apple logo on its side. She freezes at the sight before her.
Curragh releases War. With his eyes still preternaturally bright yellow, he rushes over to his mate and collapses to his knees in front of her, pressing the top of his head into her thighs. She drops the bag and holds him, looking at us for answers.
Kara smiles with relief, tucking the gun in the back waistline of her jeans. “Answer your phone, girl.”
“I wanted to get a computer!” Alisa exclaims, realizing what happened. “I was scared to…” She looks down at War. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I just…”
Looking up at her and meeting her eyes, he rasps, “Marry me.”
Alisa’s lips part in total shock. She nods as a smile grows on her delicate face. We all exhale as War rises, picks her up and kisses her hard. She responds and it’s about to get really intimate and hot in here, but then War buries his face in her shaggy blue hair and whispers, “Don’t leave without telling me. It’s too dangerous right now. Promise me.”
“I promise!” Tears stream down her cheeks.
Smacking Curragh on the back, I mutter, “Looks like that second wedding is coming after all.”
“Yay.”
Draik chuckles under his breath, running hands through his blonde hair, the way one does when they’re trying to calm the fuck down. No one wants to be that scared again
. But this isn’t the last time we will be.
Watching the happy couple I remember what I told Draik. That I won’t see the Fosters again. I am supposed to be there at ten tomorrow morning. I can’t do that. I can’t risk it, not when I know Emily isn’t my forever mate. You can’t risk your friends just because of lust. Even as I say that to myself, my wolf is growling at me that he doesn’t agree.
Emily
“Wait!” Michael cries out, grabbing the tiniest bit of bacon from his plate as I go to lift it from the table. It was such an small piece I hadn’t noticed it, but I can’t blame him for wanting to savor every last nibble. Bacon is delicious. Licking his lips, he asks me again, “What time is it?”
Sofia demands in her singsong voice from across our small dining table, “Is it ten yet?”
“Almost. Now go brush your teeth.” They run from the table with unusual enthusiasm. They haven’t stopped talking about Wolfman coming to spend the day with them.
The day.
The whole day? Is that what he implied. My heart dances at the idea of that.
What are we going to do? I’ve been wondering ever since he dropped us off last night. I am very excited. Trying not to be excited has done me little good. I barely slept. Nearly broke my vibrator. This is crazy!
As my children brush their teeth, I head into my closet to put on a fourth outfit. It would be easier if I knew what we were doing. He didn’t say. Truth is, I don’t care. I just want to spend some time with him.
“Mommy! Is he here yet?” Michael calls out over the sound of running water.
Checking the alarm clock on my bedside table, I blink. Maybe he’s not the prompt type.
“Almost!” I call back, slipping on a light blue cotton shirt to go with my jeans and sneakers. This way I won’t look like I tried to hard. Pulling my long hair up on my head in a messy bun, I inspect myself in the mirror and cock my head. No no no. The bun comes down. I look like I’m about to wash my face or something. Not sexy. There! That’s better.
Sofia shows up in the doorframe of my bedroom. My bedroom? I’m already referring to it as only mine. Shaking off the guilt, I kneel down in front of my pretty little thing. “What’s up, beautiful?”
With her chin shoved into her tiny neck, she grins and points to her mouth. “Look!”
“Oh honey! Look at you! When did your tooth fall out?” She points to the bathroom. “When you brushed your teeth?” Emphatic nods and then she holds up a tiny red tooth.
“Does the tooth fairy come in the daytime?” she asks, and wide hopeful eyes wait for my answer.
Michael runs up behind her. “Give me that!” He tries to grab the tooth from her, but I cover Sofia’s hand with mine and protect her from the brotherly attack. “Ah man!”
To my daughter, I answer, “Only at night sweet pea. Go put it under your pillow, okay?”
Clasping the itty-bitty tooth in both itty-bitty hands she runs off to do just that. Michael is in hot pursuit.
“Michael!”
He turns around and throws his hands against his sides with a big exhale.
“Leave it alone.”
“Okaaaaaaayyyy,” he sighs, rolling his eyes back in his head.
And yet still there is no knock on the door. I check myself once more in the mirror and before they have a chance to make me even more anxious, I call out to them, “Kids, put on some cartoons while we wait!”
They’re on more quickly than you can say T.V.I, however, am not so easily entertained. The book I’m reading would normally hold my attention. Not today. A half hour passes with agonizing slowness. I feel actual pain in my chest, which I am not proud of. Then forty-five minutes ticks its way into my bloodstream and that’s it. I’m toast. I can’t take suspense.
He’s not coming. He didn’t show.
Taking a deep breath to steady my anger, I pull out my phone and pretend to read something on it. Then I reach over and grab the remote, my face solemn so that they know I don’t have good news. It will do no good to act like this is a happy outcome. They’re too excited for it to be. But I can make the most of it. I hope.
“Hey guys. Wolfman…I mean, Xavier just texted me.” Their faces fall. I have said this lie so many times when their father was late and did not call.
Sofia’s voice is sad as she looks at her lap. “He’s not taking us out?”
You know what, disappointing me is one thing, but messing with my children? Uh uh. That is not okay.
“He got tied up. Something important. But he wants us to go to the park without him and have a good time.” I offer them my best smile — totally fake and forced.
My son hits the sofa as hard as he can. “Dammit!”
Grabbing that violent miniature fist, I pull him closer. “Michael! You are not allowed to say that word, do you hear me.” Rebellious green eyes frown up at me. “You’re sad. I know. But hitting things and swearing is not the way to handle your feelings.”
“I’m not going to cry like a girl!” he insists.
“I didn’t say you should cry. There are many ways to handle emotions. You can talk to me about them. You can draw things to get them out. But violence is not the answer.”
“But Daddy…”
“I don’t care about what Daddy did. What he did was wrong, you understand?” Michael nods, boyish innocence drifting back into his expression. Sofia is watching me closely from the other side of her brother. “What your father did was not okay and I do not want you acting like he did. It made you feel bad, didn’t it?” They both nod, eyes filling with tears. “If it made you feel bad, then when you do it, you might be making other people feel bad like that, right?” They nod again. “Do you want that? Is that a nice thing to do to people?”
They both shake their heads.
“No,” Michael whispers.
“I want to be nice, Mommy!” Sofia whispers.
“You are very nice. And you are, too, Michael. You are going to be a better man than your father, so don’t let me see you hitting things or people again. Okay?” He nods, and this time he means it. I smile at him. “I love you like crazy. Now go get your shoes on and your jackets, please.” As they climb down, I grab each of them and hug them tightly. “I love you,” I whisper to each of them. “Now go on.”
They head away without any of the squealing or enthusiasm they had earlier. What I just told him, those are not things I’ve talked about before. It’s just so important to me now that we’re free to keep my eyes open so that I can help them pick up the pieces. So we all can. It’s not easy, but I have to do it. That’s what being a mom is. Sighing, I bend forward and lay my head on my legs.
And then the front door knocks.
Emily
“Ready?” Xavier says as I discover him frowning on the other side. The question throws me for a second. He’s so confidant that I wonder if I had the time wrong and he’d really said eleven. But no. He said ten.
“For?” I ask, crossing my arms.
He blinks once and glances to my stance. “You’re angry.”
“Why would I be angry?”
“Because I’m late,” he says in an irritated tone. As if he’s the one who has a right.
Gathering my brewing anger, I snap, “Are you? Because you just said Ready instead of Sorry I’m late. And that’s just odd.” His lips go tight as he glares at me. “Do women normally put up with this? Are you surprised I’m calling you out?”
“You want me to go,” He says, like he’s just figuring this out. We’re silent for a moment as I wrestle with it. I don’t want him to leave. I really, really don’t.
“Yes. I want you to leave. I have children here and I won’t let them be disappointed anymore. I’m sorry, Xavier. But they were waiting and had their hopes up. Then I had to tell them you weren’t coming. You should go before they see you.”
“Fine.” He doesn’t move. “I’ll go.” We stare at each other. His left eye twitches, but he isn’t moving.
“Umm…hello?” I say with meaning
, motioning to the staircase behind him.
“I’m leaving now.” A smirk appears and the hard lines of his face soften with mischief. He is not moving. We’re just standing here in my doorway staring at each other and his smile keeps getting bigger, just like my anger.
“What are you doing?!” I snap, about to start pushing the guy on his merry fucking way…but then I hear them.
“WOLFMAN!!!” They come running through the door and grab onto his legs.
He shoots me a look that says his plan to wait it out until they discovered he was here, worked.
I just glare at him. He doesn’t get to manipulate my children to cover his own ass. “Kids, I’m sorry but Wolf…Xavier was just—”
“—Saying how sorry he was for being late. Wow, those are some very bright shoes, Michael.”
My son jumps back and kicks one leg out to display his neon green sneakers. “Aren’t they cool!?”
“They are very cool,” Xavier smiles, kneeling down to Sofia who has held up her little arms for a hug greeting. Flabbergasted and unwilling to break their hearts, I have no choice but to allow him to charm the hell out of my children. What am I supposed to do, be the wicked witch? Not a role I want.
“I won’t forget this,” I mutter to him as he sets my daughter down.
“I’m going to make sure of that,” he mutters back, the sexy smirk deepening into a look that makes my panties moist. Damn. “Emily, go get your jacket. It’s cold out.”
Sounding like a child myself, I say, “You’re not wearing one!”
“I don’t need one. I naturally run hot,” he said that so matter of factly, but I can’t help but cock an eyebrow at him. He laughs.
“You never need a jacket? You’re just that masculine.”
His eyebrows jog up, humor in his tone as he coolly replies, “It has to be a lot colder than this to bother me. And yeah. I’m very masculine, if that’s what makes you blush like that.”
“Are you blushing?” Sofia cranes to see my face.
Werewolves of Chicago: Xavier Page 9
