The Legend of the Werewolf

by Mandy Rosko

  Westley half fell on the bed when his father left. "Jesus, I wish he wouldn't sneak up on me like that."

  "I wish you could tell him to get a life," Chris muttered.

  Westley shut his eyes, seeming to ask for patience. "I’m not ready for that. I need my pack."

  Chris skimmed down the bed so that he sat next to Westley. He ran his fingers through Westley’s light hair in an intimate gesture. "But, don't you see? I'll be your pack and it won't just be the two of us either, Anne will still be your friend. She won't stop being your pack mate just because your dad tells her to."

  Westley's lips twitched. "A pack of two people, maybe three. Doesn't sound like much to me."

  Anne put the bottles on the nightstand. She couldn't stand to hear anything as private as their worries for the future when she already worried along with them.

  Westley was right. Chris didn’t get it. Werewolves regarded their pack as their family. It was a unit that was hard to give up and leave behind. Weres usually didn’t do it unless they were leaving for another pack.

  Dragons didn’t need packs. They were able to survive on their own for their entire lives if they chose to. If an entire group of dragons lived together then it was because they chose to.

  Until Chris met Westley, he’d chosen to live on his own like most other dragons. When they became a pair, he chose to join a pack of werewolves should they accept him.

  Gordon did not accept.

  "I'll leave you two alone now. I just wanted to see how everything was and make sure you were okay," she said, nodding to Chris.

  Neither looked at her. They just looked at each other.

  "Thanks for coming over," Chris said.

  She couldn't stand hearing the lack of hope in his voice.

  Then he lifted his head to look at her. "Look, whatever we're going to do, we'll do it today. We can't keep putting this off and Westley and I can't keep pretending that we're fine with him getting married."

  Westley sat up. "Thank God, what's the plan?"

  Even Chris stared at her expectantly. She wished she had more of a plan. What she did have in mind seemed filled to the brim with flaws. "We stick with the original idea. We'll just ask Mike to play the part and demand that Gordon call off the wedding."

  Chris rested his chin in his bandaged hand. "And when Gordon asks why?"

  The best idea in the world popped like fireworks inside her brain. "I'll ask Mike to tell him that he doesn't want me marrying Westley because Mike wants to marry me."

  ***

  "Are you out of your mind?"

  Not the reaction she hoped for. Anne couldn't contain the sliver of insult that wormed into her voice. "Gee, thanks a lot."

  "I mean, not that you're not worth marrying or not attractive," His eyes skimmed up and down her body, hesitating in a few specific places that made Anne blush.

  God. She loved being looked at like that.

  Mike seemed to come out of whatever trance he was in, blinked a few times, and had the decency to look embarrassed. "Sorry, but the point is that I can't just marry you and hope for the best for your friend."

  Anne slipped back into business mode. She had to make him see why this was a brilliant idea. "But that's the beautiful part, we don't have to do anything. You don't have to worry about being tied to me or anything because I'm a werewolf. Everyone thinks you're the first werewolf reincarnated. If you say you want to have a long engagement, they'll go along with it."

  "I got the impression from Gordon that he didn't care whether or not I really was the first of anything."

  Anne nodded. "Right, but if he wants to keep the respect of his pack then he'll get over that really fast. There are people outside, right now, waiting to meet you. They brought their families and stayed the night after a dangerous situation. Trust me, you're the one in charge here."

  Mike rubbed his hand over his chin, thick with stubble.

  Anne waited, muscles jumping and twitching under her skin with anticipation.

  “I need them to let me call my partner in Griffon. I’ve put it off too long already,” he said.

  Her hands slapped together at the victory. “I’d bet a million dollars, my first born son, and my soul you could get a phone if you asked for it.”

  “Good.” He grinned lazily at her. "All I do is play my part, in turn I get a phone call, the chance to play husband to a gorgeous lady, and out from under Gordon's nose? Sounds like a plan."

  She returned his grin.

  NINE

  Mike adjusted his borrowed sweater, shifting his feet in anticipation for meeting the crowd. "Explain again how we’re doing this?”

  Anne, damn her, danced around the cabin like a pixie.

  A gorgeous fantasy pixie. Just because he was going to play her spouse didn’t mean he got the right to touch her.

  Her werewolf mind cut him off from most of her thoughts, but he didn't need them. She was queen of the world, she’d won the lottery, it was her birthday and Christmas rolled into one.

  She wasn’t the least bit nervous for what they were about to do.

  Which was lie to an entire pack of werewolves. "Just play the part and everyone will follow you around like rats following the Pied Piper."

  "Should be easy enough," he said. He’d said it every time he had her repeat what they were doing.

  The problem was that it seemed too easy. And, once he realized that, he got nervous. In his line of work, everything that was too easy was not to be trusted.

  In Griffon City he was used to both taking and giving orders. Anne’s orders were that he stand tall, speak with confidence, and let the wolves outside bow down.

  Seemed simple enough, but something was missing. He wasn’t putting something together. His instincts just didn’t go shit-crazy for no reason.

  He hated, hated, hated, when that happened. It made him feel small, like he wasn’t qualified to do his job. Right now, he wasn’t feeling very damn qualified to call himself a detective if there was something he wasn’t get—

  Mike ceased to breathe. He knew what they were missing. “Your plan’s not going to work.”

  Anne stopped dancing with her imaginary partner to stare at him all dumbfounded and horrified, as though he’d just told her he’d run over her kitten.

  “Why not?”

  “How are we supposed to fake a soul-bonding?” The thing that all werewolves did as part of their mating. The thing that attached werewolves to their mates for life.

  How were they supposed to do that?

  ***

  The inside of Anne’s chest fluttered with relief. She grabbed her chest and heaved a grateful sigh. For a minute she thought there was a real problem.

  "Jesus, don’t scare me like that!”

  “You don’t see the problem?”

  She shook her head. “Bonding doesn't work that way, Cowboy. Not like with vampires where they just see the person they’re meant to be with and poof! Instant love. A werewolf chooses their partner, then they bond."

  Mike had looked at her skeptically. "That's not the way I heard it works, not the way we studied back in Griffon."

  He was going to argue with her, a werewolf, on how a werewolf bonds? Duh. "Well, how’d you study it? Who told you it was like that?"

  "Read it in a book actually. I'm a detective in a paranormal city that's not supposed to exist. I need to know about these things."

  Anne tapped her finger on her arm, unimpressed. "Next time you should actually ask a werewolf about these things instead of just reading about it and hoping whoever wrote the book knew what they were talking about."

  Mike bristled. "It's a standard text book, updated yearly. We're told to read it."

  She couldn’t believe he was actually defending a system of learning, a system that was affecting the way cops worked. On top of that, defending a book that was wrong. It wasn’t annoying as much as it was ridiculous. “Don’t you have werewolves working with you to tell you that the books are wrong?”

 
His jaw tightened.

  A little smirk wormed her lips up into a curl. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “We do. They just … keep to themselves.”

  She bet they did. Anne could picture it in her head. “Uh huh, let me guess, the one or two wolves you got working with you stick to themselves, not hanging out with any humans or anything, right?”

  “They’ve been invited to join—”

  “This isn’t about inviting them. You could invite Gordon and the entire pack to your barbeque next door with free food, a flat screen TV, and an in ground pool, it doesn’t mean they’d show up.”

  He was the one to smirk this time. “They’d turn down an invite from their precious demi-god?”

  “Fine, maybe they wouldn’t turn it down if you invited them, but werewolves are lone creatures outside the pack. The pack is their social network, their family, friends, all that. It’s kind of rare that we choose our mates or friends outside the species.”

  Which was what made Chris and Westley so special.

  His lips became thin and frowny again. “If this is true then when I get home I’m going to have to make sure everyone works on their communication better.”

  He looked at her. “Would that help?”

  She shrugged. “It should, I guess. Your wolves can even help explain what is and isn’t true about werewolves.”

  “I’m guessing it’s a lot,” Mike said.

  She nodded. "You should get a new book. No, wait! Get one of your guys, or girls, I don’t know if your wolves are guys or girls.”

  “They’re men.”

  “Great. Get your wolf-men back in Griffon to write some papers on Lycanthrope for you. That’ll help you with the facts part.”

  He shook his head. “Still wouldn’t be good enough. Now that I know most, if not all, of our reading material on the paranormal is flawed, next time it’s written we’ll have to make sure facts have been checked.” He looked at her again. “I’ll send you their papers.”

  Anne jerked back a step. “What? What for?”

  “The papers will have been written by werewolves, sure, but I want to make sure this is done right. Having essays written and proof read by werewolves would be a big help. An extra set of eyes and all that. You can add anything that’s missed and whatever else there is with editing.”

  She was touched. Heat surrounded her as though she’d dipped herself into a warm bath. Her hand reached up to her neck. “You want my help?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? I trust you.”

  The heat in her bath just went up a few degrees. How did they get from talking about how their plan wasn’t going to work to her helping him with a werewolf manual?

  “Uh, great. Anyway, back to before—” because if they didn’t get back on track, things were going to get a lot hotter. “—if we pretend to be bonded, my pack mates will buy into it. If anyone asks for proof, no one knows you're psychic."

  His mouth and nose curled, as though being reminded of it put a bad smell in his nose and a sour taste on his tongue. "Right, anyway, just remember it's easier for me to get what you're saying in your head if you concentrate on allowing me to hear it."

  "Gotcha, and if anyone asks—"

  "'We couldn't help ourselves. It happened before we realized what we did, we're sorry but we're in love.' Right?" Mike said, repeating the words she'd spoken to him earlier.

  She shivered, pretending for just one second that he meant what he said and wasn’t just reciting a line. "Exactly. Wouldn't be the first time something like this happened in this pack either."

  ***

  "Alright. You ready to act all lovey-dovey?"

  Mike grinned and adjusted his hat. "Won’t be hard."

  He delighted in the blush that colored her pale cheeks. The red stood out so much he bet he could see it in the dark. If he ever managed to make her blush in the dark.

  "Um, right." Anne turned the knob and swung open the door. Mike threw his arm around her waist and together they walked out.

  Mike kept his eyes on her face and threw on an ‘I wanna take you back to my room for a few hours’ expression.

  It wasn’t hard to fake.

  In fact, he wasn’t faking at all.

  This should be an easier said than done kind of operation. Now that he had her close, it was amazingly easy.

  Anyone who looked at him would see he was enamored. Not that it was difficult. Anne was a pretty thing to look at, didn't shy away from his touch like Jackie had, and didn't seem to care that he was a psychic, like Jackie had.

  Probably because she was a werewolf and knew he could hardly get inside her head even if he tried.

  She stared up at him with the same adoration. Eyes sparkling and pink mouth smiling. It would be so easy to pretend it was real. God, she was beautiful.

  An awed hush followed their entrance and blanketed the crowd circling the door to their cabin. The hairs on Mike’s arms and back of his neck pricked.

  He pulled his eyes away from admiring his captor to stare back at the crowd. He’d been so caught up with looking at Anne’s face that he actually forgot that there would be people there.

  All eyes from the twenty-five to thirty or so people, stared at them. Mike’s flesh stiffened. It reminded him of being a kid after him and everyone else in town, discovered his ability.

  When he’d step into a store, a room, anywhere, everyone hushed down. They’d either just finished talking about him, or figured that if their mouths were quiet, their minds were as well. As if it could keep Mike from hearing every dodgy and perverted thought.

  This was different, though. They weren’t quiet out of fear, they were shocked.

  Mike's hand tightened around Anne's waist. She sent him a questioning glance before dazzling him with that smile of hers before presenting it to the stunned onlookers.

  "I think…" She turned her head away shyly, glancing up at him and blinking a whole heck of a lot. Jesus, if he didn’t know any better, he’d actually think she was in love with him.

  Since he did know better, all he could do was marvel at her acting skills while he held her hand. "I think we have some explaining to do...sweetheart."

  Sweetheart.

  Well, it was better than being called honey bear or sugar muffin. Still, sweetheart nearly ripped a giant laugh from his throat. If it looked like he smiled tenderly at Anne while fighting back a snort, then all the better for their act.

  He forgot all about the curious stares as he tugged her closer. "I guess we do...honey."

  He grinned when the dimples on her upper cheeks twitched. Her throat constricted and her smile looked ready to shatter. She was having trouble holding back laughter too.

  "Oh…you." She tossed a slow, light punch to his shoulder.

  He laughed a little at the pathetic force of the attack. Her lips thinned and she pinched his ribs.

  Mike jumped and yelled. He was ticklish and didn't want her, or anyone, knowing it.

  Too late. “That’s my big guy,” she cooed, her sharp incisors moving in for his sensitive spots.

  “No, no!” Mike spasmed, laughed out loud, then clasped her wrists to keep her from going at him again.

  “Stop it, muffin.” Mike half glared at her. He glanced up to see if they were making idiots of themselves for nothing, as he feared was the case.

  Women stared with their hands clasped together, either grinning broadly or fighting back tears. Most of the men were still confused, but others seemed to get the picture as their wives explained it. Their eyes went wide when understanding donned.

  Mike tried to probe into their heads. Their expressions were helpful but he'd rather know for sure. He caught only a few words, but still enough to tell him their show was working.

  Who would’ve thought?

  That skinny woman who insisted on wearing high heels at a ranch, a new pair today, Fanny, was the first to come forward. She pointed her finger at them. Her mouth gaping.

  "You ... how did ... when did this ha
ppen?" Fanny asked once she could form a proper sentence.

  Mike looked at Anne and she looked at him. Both knowing who was going to answer that question and what the answer would be from their rehearsal.

  "Well," Anne started. "We honestly don't know. It might’ve happened when Mike was helping our wounded friend, Chris. Or, when we were fighting off the shadows last night. Might’ve been the night we even met."

  If Fanny knew that he and Anne had known each other for two days then he was sure she never would have swallowed it. As she did not have that info on hand, she nodded at Anne's answer without question.

  Another voice piped up, "Aren't you supposed to be getting married to Westley?"

  Mike didn't know the name of the shorter man who asked. He opened his mouth to answer, since it was his line, but Anne beat him to it. Her voice hard, ready for an argument that she was determined to win.

  "That's what we want to talk to you all about.” Her hand returned to the cradle of Mike’s palm and he squeezed for support. “Gordon's the one who made this decision for a marriage, and unless the entire pack goes to him and asks him to break off the wedding, I'll have to get married to a man that I'm not bonded to."

  A low murmur spread throughout the crowd. Everyone looked at each other, all shaking their head, appalled at the very idea.

  The voices mashed together so easily that Mike could only pick out a few words among the rubble.

  "The wedding has to be called off,"

  "She's already bonded,"

  "We’ll speak with Gordon,"

  He couldn't believe it.

  As if this was working so easily. What were the odds? Pretty damn good apparently. An exhilarated rush from a job well done bloomed inside him.

  He barely said a word. Just stood there, and they were going to get Anne out of the marriage with Westley.

  He never knew werewolves took their bonding so seriously. Then again, he also didn't know that they had a choice in who they bonded with before today.

  His happy, accomplished rush left him. They were all too willing to let Anne off the hook, but he had yet to say anything about a phone call home, or even how to get Westley out of being married off to someone else.