by R. J. Blain
My mother handed my father another box. It didn’t look much larger than a ring box. I frowned. “Daddy, are you proposing to Richard?”
My mother laughed. “Oh my God, Nicolina. No, he’s not proposing to Richard. He’s my mate, thank you. He’ll be sleeping in the attic if he even thinks it.”
The shrill laughter on the other end of the line annoyed a huff out of me. “Why’re you laughing?”
“Because this is funny as hell,” my sister said, biting her lip. “Dad, if you aren’t proposing, what are you doing?”
“Revenge,” my father declared.
“Marrying Richard would be self-inflicted punishment, not revenge,” I said, pointing Richard’s phone at my father.
“Ouch. Rejected,” Alex said. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think, Nicolina?”
Richard scowled at me. “Not nice.”
“Oopsy.”
“Quiet, hostage,” Richard ordered. “Plane or daughter, Desmond.”
“Open the box,” my father ordered, holding it out.
“You’ll use the chance to steal my hostage,” Richard grumbled.
“Fine. Nicolina, open the box for Richard, please.” My father handed me the box. I stared at it and the phone, trying to figure out how to open it with one hand.
“He’s actually letting Richard hold his puppy hostage?” Frank gasped out. Snorting laughter, Frank coughed several times before clearing his throat. “Sorry. Alex? Is Richard actually…?”
“Desmond is grinning like a maniac,” Alex reported. “Richard has Nicolina sprawled over his lap and is holding her in place. She’s too drunk to fight him. She’s the one holding the phone. Richard’s too drunk to fight Desmond. I’d probably pay to watch this. It’s hilarious. I think the plane being turned into glitter broke him. He’s actually pretty calm. Only a little bit of a death glare.”
“You’re not worried, Alex?”
“If I were worried, I wouldn’t be sitting next to him holding Nicolina’s feet so she doesn’t kick me. I’m directly in the line of fire. Desmond is on the arm of the couch next to me.”
“Are you drunk?”
Alex laughed. “I’m not drunk, Frank. I can’t wait to see what’s in this box, though.”
“Nicolina, put the cell down,” my father suggested.
“Oh.” I offered the phone to Richard. “Here. Phone.”
“So I see,” Richard replied, taking it.
“Wow, she’s really drunk.” I recognized Sanders’s voice.
“Sanders?” Desmond demanded. “What are you doing there?”
“Well, we were playing cards until Frank grabbed his phone and the rest of Richard’s pack jumped like they’d been pinched in the ass,” the Alpha said. “You really got your little puppy drunk?”
“Accidentally,” my father grumbled. “I meant to give her one shot.”
“Nicolina, the box,” Richard grumbled.
“Hold your horses,” I mumbled, flipping it over to find the tape. I peeled it back and unfolded the paper.
Wrinkling his nose, Richard prodded the box with his cell. “Just rip it open.”
“Bah.” I obeyed, shredding the paper with my nails. Inside was a jewelry box. “Are you sure you’re not proposing to Richard, Daddy?”
“I’m certain, baby.”
“The sweetness levels over there are sickening,” Sanders reported. “Are you recording this?”
“Maybe,” my mother replied.
“I need a copy. Please,” Frank begged.
Grabbing hold of the box, I cracked it open. When nothing jumped out at me, I flipped open the lid and peeked inside.
Puzzled, I pulled out Richard’s car keys. “Daddy, these are Richard’s keys.”
“That’s right, they are Richard’s keys,” my father replied.
“Oh, there’s another key in here,” I said, dropping the car keys in favor of the keyring with a single large key on it. “What’s this, Daddy?”
“Somewhere within a five hour radius are the glittery ruins of your plane, Richard. With the glittery ruins of your jet is another present. That key will get you inside, assuming you find where it’s hidden.”
“Oh man, you’re cruel,” Frank said. “That’s just mean, Desmond.”
“Desmond,” Richard growled.
“Seeing as you have taken my daughter hostage, I suppose you’ll have to take her with you in your Porsche and go find where I have stashed the remains of your precious little jet.” My father laughed, mimicking the cackle of a villain. “As for you, my precious little daughter. You need practice driving, so you will drive his Porsche on your little adventure. The rules are simple. No driving after curfew. When you’re behind the wheel, you will remain in the state of Washington. You are not permitted to return to my house until you send me a picture of your present. Trust me, Richard, you’ll be begging for me to take her back once she’s sobered up. If you haven’t found where that key goes, you’ll be responsible for taking her to school, paying her rent, and ensuring all of her needs are met.”
“Oh, hell no,” Richard blurted.
“Daddy!” I shrieked, struggling to break free of Richard’s grip. Like before, he held onto me, so strong I couldn’t escape his hold. Scowling, I balled my hand into a fist, and drove it into Richard’s stomach. “When I’m done killing him, I’m coming for you,” I snarled.
“Oh shit, she hit him,” Alex gasped.
Richard wheezed, though he didn’t let go of me. “You can have her back now, if you want. Keep the glitter.”
“Oh? You’re giving up already? Is it too much for you, Richard?” my father asked.
Alex clapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh, you didn’t. You did not just…”
Frank cackled. “This might be the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.”
“Excuse me?” a woman growled.
“Oh, crap,” Frank muttered. “I’m sorry, Vivian. It’s the best present only after everything you’ve ever given me ever.”
“That’s not going to save you,” the woman replied.
“You’re on, Desmond,” Richard snarled, snatching the keys out of my hand. “You better hope I find where this key goes, or I’m keeping your daughter. Maybe I’ll give her back, if the price is right.”
“That’s a really stupid threat, Richard,” my sister said, shaking her head. “You’re being tricked. You don’t want her. She’s obnoxious, stuck up, stubborn…”
I glared at Lisa, reaching out to strangle her. Richard once again held me back with an arm wrapped around my stomach. “Traitor!”
Smiling at me, my sister leaned over me and prodded me in the shoulder. “That’s what you get for trying to teach your stupid spider to eat Cindy.”
I wailed my dismay.
“Oh, look at the time. Dinner’s ready,” my mother announced. “Sorry to worry you, Frank. I’m pretty sure my mate isn’t entirely serious.”
“I’m serious,” my father replied, sliding off the arm of the couch to lean over me, kissing my forehead. “I’m kicking them both out tomorrow morning. Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you your Christmas presents when you’re back—if Richard is wolf enough to outsmart me. Good thing I kept all of the receipts.”
I made a grab at my father’s throat to strangle him, but Richard held me back.
“Let me go,” I demanded of Richard, my hands closing on empty air. My father stayed just out of my reach, smirking at me.
“No murders,” my mother ordered.
“Good luck with that,” my father replied with laughter in his voice. “Nicky thinks of nothing but murder all day.”
“I’m pretty sure you mean kitty,” my sister said.
“No, I meant Nicky. Just look at her. She’s frothing at the mouth,” my father replied. “Maybe it’s a good thing I’m getting rid of her. She might have rabies.”
“I’m going to kill you, Daddy,” I swore, squirming in my efforts to escape Richard. “I’m going to ruin you, and then I’m g
oing to kill you, and when I’m done, I’m going to dance on your grave.”
“Good luck, Richard. You’re going to need it,” Frank said before hanging up.
“Can’t we make it through one Christmas without one of your daughters wanting to kill you?” my mother complained.
My father turned to face my mother. “Where’s the fun in that?”
The Games Wolves Play
Richard and his wolf are delighted to have Nicolina for their own for at least several days, but when his parents show up, their fun and games take a lethal turn.
A dull-eyed, hungover Nicolina stared at my Porsche, holding my keys in her hand. My mate’s father stood on his front porch, his arms crossed over his chest. In the better interest of keeping the peace, I remained silent, carrying our bags to the trunk.
My watch informed me it was seven in the morning, which was far earlier than I liked. I think Desmond had planned it, stalking his daughter and sniffing for hints of lingering alcohol, waiting for her hangover to strike so he could send us out when she was most miserable. She’d already been sick twice, and I’d saved her hair by seconds both times, all the while glaring at her father, who stood and smirked as he watched.
I was starting to believe he was out to torment his daughter using me as a convenient excuse. My wolf was torn between fury and delight. I didn’t like my mate’s misery anymore than my wolf did, but for the moment, she was ours.
Knowing Desmond, even if I hunted my best, using every resource in my possession, it’d probably take me at least three or four days to locate the door the key went to. When my mate figured out she’d been evicted, probably until New Year's, she was going to kill someone—probably me. Desmond was up to something, and I had no idea what he was planning or why.
My wolf couldn’t be happier with the way the situation was playing out. I, on the other hand, wanted to go back inside and sleep. Unlike my mate, I wasn’t hung over; a quick call to Frank to reassure him nothing was wrong had been followed by embracing my wolf. Frank wasn’t the only one relieved when it had been quick and relatively painless. Alcohol affected me as a human, but the transformation purged it from my body, along with the consequences of overindulgence. Returning to human had been a little more challenging, but I’d gotten through it without bleeding all over Desmond’s bathroom or needing anyone’s help.
If my mate was going to be driving my Porsche while hungover, I needed to be sharp and prepared to drive so she didn’t wrap my car around a tree.
“Don’t even think of crawling back until you’ve sent those photos, Richard,” Desmond growled.
“You could have let me borrow the Mercedes,” I grumbled. Desmond’s Mercedes—the car—fit four, which meant I could have taken Alex with me. His other Mercedes, his prized silver SUV, fit seven.
“If you really need Alex, he can borrow the Mercedes and come to you. You better really need him, because I’ll be in the car, ready to beat you black and blue if you’re whining for no good reason.”
“You’re merciless.” I rolled my shoulders, but kept my doubts to myself.
My pack was a little too happy with Desmond’s challenge. Most of them wanted to stay and watch it unfold, which only made me worry. My mate was emphatically displeased with the arrangement. My wolf was over the moon, an eager little puppy needing an outlet for his excitement. Desmond looked like a cat who had gotten into the cream. My mate’s sister kept snickering whenever I saw her, which only added to my concerns. Even Wendy was having fun at my expense.
“Please pop the trunk, Nicolina,” I said, resisting the urge to sigh.
She leveled a glare at me, but pressed the button on the fob. I dumped the bags inside and closed it. “This is all your fault,” she hissed at me.
“No murders,” Wendy ordered, poking her head out the front door. “We’ll text you with hints, Richard. Maybe tomorrow morning, if we’re feeling nice. Don’t worry, I won’t let Charles torment you too much. He’s a cretin, but unlike him, I expect my daughter back in one piece. Do not disappoint me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, wondering how I was going to escape Desmond’s challenge with my life intact. As far as I knew, Nicolina had never driven a manual before. While I could have switched the gearbox to automatic with my Porsche’s specialized system, if I taught her to drive my car properly, it’d take us longer to get where we were going. That pleased my wolf.
I still fretted. With luck, she wouldn’t drop my transmission onto the road or grind my gearbox to scrap metal. Considering how my stay with the Desmonds was going thus far, I’d be searching for a car dealership instead of hunting for the key’s lock, hoping they could fit in a transmission overhaul.
Nicolina sighed, got behind the wheel of my car, and buckled in. Closing up the trunk, I slid into the passenger’s seat, glared at Desmond one final time, and gave my mate my full attention.
“If you want to get this over with quickly, I really recommend you do not crash into anything, otherwise you’ll be stuck with me for three months while I wait for a new Porsche,” I said, stretching my legs. Turning on the heated seats, I settled in to see what my mate would do.
“Fuck you,” she growled. She put the key in the ignition and turned on the car, shifted into gear, and sent gravel flying as she stomped on the gas.
Instead of the stall I was expected, she gunned the engine, fishtailed, recovered, and shifted as she tested my Porsche’s acceleration. At the end of the driveway, she discovered my Porsche’s touchy braking, which made her squeak. Drumming her fingers against the wheel, she glared at me. “Where are we going?”
“Pick a direction and drive,” I suggested. “Until your father gets his head out of his ass and decides to offer a hint, we’re hunting without direction.”
“Wonderful. Just wonderful.” My mate sighed, turned out of her driveway, and drove. I forced myself to relax.
“Who taught you to drive you a manual?”
“Father. Said if I was going to learn how to drive, I’d do it right instead of cheating,” Nicolina mumbled. “Is it really seven in the fucking morning?”
“If you head several clicks out, we can swap, and you can sleep it off,” I offered.
“Clicks?”
“Kilometers.”
“Oh, shit. I knew that.” Nicolina scowled. “You just had to go and pull his tail, didn’t you? Couldn’t just keep your mouth shut, could you? Now I’m stuck with you for how long?”
“It’s better if you don’t ask.”
“The coast,” my mate announced, and she headed westbound. I was relieved when she chose a route that would skirt Seattle instead of going through it. “Maybe I can dump you in the ocean. No one will find your body for a while.”
“It’ll be difficult to hide a pink Porsche,” I replied, sniffing to catch her scent. While she was spouting threats, I couldn’t detect the sharp edge of malicious intent.
Hangovers made anyone grumpy, myself included, which was why I had cheated. Telling Nicolina wasn’t an option. She was irritated enough with me.
“Spray paint.”
“My poor car.”
Instead of making a straight run west towards the ocean, Nicolina cut south, leaving the city for the rolling foothills of the Cascades. Like most people who drove my car, she took it easy, driving below the speed limit as she discovered my car preferred dry roads and viewed all other forms of weather as a challenge to be overcome.
“Don’t you believe in winter tires?” she complained. Instead of heading west, she went east, heading closer to the mountains.
“I was informed Seattle doesn’t believe in snow or ice,” I replied, shrugging. “Easy enough fix if you can find a Porsche dealership that’s open. I have no problems swapping the tires out for you if you want something with better grip.”
“Won’t have to try hard to find something better. I feel like I’m ice skating.”
Leaning over, I checked the temperature gauge, which reported it was hovering right around the
freezing point outside. “It’ll be good practice for you. A piece of advice, if you don’t mind.”
“What?”
“Don’t turn the wheel and slam the brakes unless you want to find out how many times you can spin before the car comes to a halt, likely through a guardrail and into a ditch.”
In the Cascades, the ditches tended to be anywhere between twenty to hundreds of feet deep. Nicolina squeaked and slowed my car. I couldn’t tell if it had been her plan all along, but she continued southbound before heading east.
If she didn’t figure out she was driving just fine and I was egging her on to stay in the car with her longer, that was her problem. My wolf approved of my tactic, and we watched our hungover mate drive, savoring her muttered curses, most of which were directed at my Porsche instead of at me for a change.
While checking the rear view mirror was appropriate behavior for a driver, my mate’s tense posture, worried scent, and obsessive-compulsive glances worried me into asking, “Problem?”
“That car’s been following us for twenty minutes now,” Nicolina complained. “Fucker could just pass. I know I’m driving slow, but does he have to ride my ass like that?”
Leaning towards her, I glanced between the seats out the back window.
The SUV had tinted windows dark enough I couldn’t see the driver. “Ah. One of those. Just ignore him. There’s no point giving yourself a headache worrying about him. He’ll either get tired of waiting for you to speed up and pass you when he has a chance or he’ll wait for you take a different route, suffering every minute his patience is tested. You’re driving fine, and if he doesn’t like the fact you’re making the right choice in what speed you’ve chosen, that’s his problem.”
“Great. So I just have to put up with him keeping so close to my rear end?”
My mate’s scowl made me smile. She was wonderfully stubborn, driving despite her hangover, though she had made several pit stops along the way. While she claimed she just wanted a drink, I knew better, but wasn’t going to poke at her pride.
