“Wow!” the cashier said. She pushed a short lock of red-brown hair out of her face, exposing mismatched eyes. One was blue, while the other was hazel. “Looks like you two really hit the jackpot today!”
“She did,” Simon said, gesturing toward his mother with a tilt of his head. “I’m just here to carry everything.”
“But he’ll get lunch out of it, so ignore his complaining,” Tamara put it. She rummaged around in her purse, searching for her wallet.
The cashier laughed dutifully as she picked up her hand-held scanner and held it to the barcode on the box Simon held. The device made a high-pitched sound as the scan went through, and she moved on to shuffling through the baskets. “We do have carts over there by the front entrance.”
“Oh, we saw the carts. We just didn’t think we were going to need them.” Simon glared playfully at Tamara as he said this. She always, always declined needing a cart even though pretty much her every trip into a craft store ended up just like this. It was some weird quirk of hers. Either that, or she liked to tease Simon.
Or, she was trying to make a point about something.
He hoped that wasn’t it. His mother could be strong-willed, but he did hope she wasn’t spiteful towards him about his physical nature.
“I think I’ll take this box out to the car and come back. So I won’t have to do it all in one trip.”
“Good idea.”
Judging from the look of things, he could take his time and the cashier wouldn’t even be halfway through scanning the rest of Tamara’s items. That was through no fault of her own, of course. There were just too many things all crammed into each basket.
“I’ll be back,” Simon said.
He was very aware of the cashier watching him as he walked off through the automatic doors with the huge box in his arms. Her gaze was warm and admiring, searing against the back of his neck. Part of him wished he wouldn’t have to come back in here at all. He’d been alive for almost a third of a century and still he hadn’t really discovered an effective way to hint to a woman that he wasn’t interested in them at all, in any way. They tended to assume he was either shy or playing hard to get, and neither of those assumptions was right. He just didn’t want them.
It was odd, the way straight people ran the world. Everything was so focused upon sex and romance. People weren’t allowed to be alone of their own volition or to just be friends with a person of the opposite sex.
But, he would have to go back inside no matter what. He couldn’t leave his mother alone to carry all those bags by herself.
And I want her to buy me lunch. Gotta suck up to the lady of the house.
Smiling a little to himself, Simon went over to his minivan and stuck his foot under the back of it to activate the automatic lifting action.
It might have been a little odd for a man of his age and bachelor status to own a minivan, but Simon was ever grateful for all the space in the back. There was no end to the amount of shit he could stick back here. For sports, that was important. He was basically an equipment supply store at certain times of year. If anyone needed something, he had it.
Shoving the box in the van, Simon pushed the button to lower the back and headed to the front entrance of the store again. Someone might come along, see it standing open, and decide to help themselves to a pretty nice lap desk. Then it would be his fault.
Back inside, he waited uncomfortably under the gaze of the interested cashier until most of the items had been scanned and placed into bags. “I’ll take these out to the car, too,” he said. “I’ll wait for you there.”
“Fine,” Tamara said. She had by now found her credit card to pay with and was using her phone to search for coupons. Unlike many older people, she had no problems at all with navigating that newfangled Google thing.
“Have a nice day!” the cashier called after him. Her voice contained a tinge of disappointment, and he wasn’t sure whether to feel bad or relieved. He was almost certain she would have asked him for his number or something.
Maybe I should have stuck around to give her a definite no.
All that was in the past as soon as he stepped through the door. He couldn’t very well just turn around and potentially make a fool of himself by shooting down her interest. Hell, maybe she wasn’t even interested at all. He couldn’t claim to be the best at recognizing when females were flirting with him.
Sticking the bags in the van alongside the box, Simon went and sat behind the wheel, listening idly to the radio. He liked music, though he couldn’t really say name a favorite artist or band or anything.
A rap song came on, and he switched over to a channel where two hosts were talking to each other about the upcoming year in sports. He liked that a little better, though this sort of thing usually struck him as pompous and unnecessary. No one could really predict what was going to happen. Players got injured or dropped out. Tactics changed. Luck, too, had a huge part in things. Simon knew a great deal of coaches who would deny that, but it was true. Sometimes the wind blew your way. Other times, it shoved you to the ground and kicked your ass. You dealt with it.
A few minutes passed. Simon watched the front entrance of the craft store. The moment he saw Tamara, he would start up the van and drive over to her so she wouldn’t have to walk.
She didn’t come out.
Odd, Simon thought. There must have been some sort of problem with the credit card, or something hadn’t rung up correctly at the register. A minor delay. She would be out in another minute or so.
Maybe he should go check on her, but that meant seeing the cashier again. No, he would just wait. It wouldn’t be much longer now.
Another few minutes passed.
Simon shifted in his seat. There was really no need for him to feel anxious. Tamara loved her shopping but when she was done, she was done. She would rather just not buy the item instead of standing there waiting five minutes for a price check. Maybe it was something she really wanted, something she had specifically looked for? If it was the lap desk and he had to carry it back inside, he was really going to poke fun at her.
Another couple minutes passed, during which Simon shut off the radio and focused entirely on the front entrance of the store.
The double doors opened and Tamara stepped through.
Relief thrummed through Simon’s body, and he relaxed, reaching for the keys to start the van up again and go to her. He was in the handicap spot, Tamara having brought her sign to hang from his rearview mirror. He felt a bit cheap about using it when he was the one driving, but the last thing he wanted was for Tamara to get side-swiped by a car while they were walking through the parking lot. Drivers had so little sense these days.
It didn’t matter that she had wolf senses, either. Wolves cared very little about the vehicles of the human world in general. They all smelled the same, like exhaust and metal. They were all loud, their locations hard to pinpoint in such open spaces. Anything could happen.
Now it seemed like anything was happening, because there was a man emerging from the craft store at Tamara’s side. They seemed to be talking.
That’s what took her so long. She found a friend.
The guy was even holding her bags for her. Like a gentleman. Simon approved of his mother’s new pal.
His approval was gone in the next instant as Tamara walked from the place where he was parked. The guy was standing in Simon’s line of sight so he couldn’t see his mother any longer, but it was very clear they were heading off down the side of the building.
“What the hell?” Simon muttered to himself. Alarm bells rang inside his head, his nerves jangling. He straightened up inside the van and started to open the door. Then, something made him think better of it, and he waited until his mother and the strange man disappeared around the corner.
He acted, and he acted fast. Terrible things needed only a few seconds to occur. Less, in some circumstances.
Shoving the door open, he tucked his head down and sprinted across the street to th
e sidewalk that went around the front of the store. He turned and bolted the way his mother had gone. The scent of her fear was ripe in the air, mingled with anger and a touch of annoyance.
He could tell the man was human. His scent was spiced with alcohol and too much cologne. Not drunk, though. He hadn’t seemed drunk. That would have made all of this just a bit too easy.
Simon threw himself around the corner and hit the ground as a wolf. His paws touched concrete, the rough surface scraping his pads. Anger pulsed through his body, causing all his fur to stand on end so he looked twice his size.
The situation was clear in an instant. He needed only a split second, a blink, a heartbeat, to analyze what was happening. Tamara was up against the wall, her expression sour and twisted; her head was turned so she could keep the man in her sight.
The man appeared to be unarmed, but Simon wasn’t fooled by that appearance. Humans always had weapons on them. It was just their way to make up for what they lacked naturally. And it made sense. If this man had only threatened his mother, she could easily have incapacitated him. But if there was a weapon involved, it was all the more likely that she would be hurt in the attempt. So she had gone along with it, probably desperately hoping her son was watching for her like he always did.
Both hands buried in Tamara’s purse, the man didn’t seem to notice that Simon was there. He rummaged through the contents, tossing aside a bottle of aspirin and a handful of crumpled receipts that the wind quickly claimed and swept away. When his hand emerged again, the man held a wallet.
Simon lunged. All of this transpired so fast that his paws had barely touched down before he was lunging forward, crossing the distance between himself and his mother’s assailant. He went in low, then swerved at the last second to ram his shoulder into the back of the man’s knee.
The man cried out, staggering. His grip on the wallet loosened while his other hand shot out to catch himself on the ground.
Red rage flashed across Simon’s vision. It felt so goddamn awful to see this bastard’s greasy fingers staining the pristine surface of the wallet his mother had made herself during her brief love affair with leather crafts. Leaping away from the falling man, Simon caught his fingers and ripped at them with his fangs. The wallet dropped and Simon nabbed that gently in his teeth before his paws connected with the ground again. Dropping it between his front paws, he pulled back his lips and snarled.
The assailant—the mugger, the whatever he was—crouched on the ground, holding onto the purse. He stared at his fingers, examining the torn flesh and dripping blood with extreme care.
Simon snarled again, taking a step forward.
The man snapped his head up, staring at Simon. Their eyes met. Simon didn’t care what this asshole saw. He didn’t care if this man saw humanity through the eyes of a wolf, or if it even registered for him that the animal facing him was a wolf at all. Simon could have just been some big dog to him, and the result would still be the same.
Simon advanced another step. He felt heat on his tongue, felt this man’s blood dripping from his teeth, mingling with his saliva and dripping to the concrete.
“Hey,” the man said. “Hey. Down.” He gestured with his bitten hand as if trying to soothe Simon. The motion wasn’t very effective, since a few of his fingers canted out at odd angles.
Another step forward.
That seemed to be the threshold of what the attacker could take. Letting out a strangled little squeak deep in the back of his throat, the man whirled on his feet, fell, then jumped up, and ran off in the direction of the parking lot. He left a splotch of blood on the concrete where he had fallen; in a few seconds, there was no sign that he had been there at all.
Shifting back into his human form, Simon ran over to his mother and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Mom! Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I’ll call an ambulance! I’ll get your phone from your purse!”
He didn’t really keep his phone on his person. It was a little inconvenient in this day and age where everyone was so connected at all times, but it was the only way he could keep a phone long enough to get any real use out of it. Something about shifting messed with electronics, though the effect seemed to fade with age.
Simon turned to grab the purse from where it had fallen to the ground. Red anger throbbed in his eyes again, his heart still pounding rapidly. The purse was yet another thing his mother had made from scratch, painstakingly sewing pieces of fabric together from the inside-out. To see it there on the ground, dirtied and violated, ignited an even deeper sort of rage inside of him.
“No.”
Simon stopped. He turned back to face Tamara as she grabbed at his wrist. “What is it?” he managed to ask.
“I’m not hurt. There’s no reason to call an ambulance. I won’t mind if you pick up my things, though. I don’t bend over well these days, you know.”
How the hell can you be so calm?
The thing was, he could tell she wasn’t calm. Her scent was still spicy and sharp with fear, and she was shaking slightly. She must have been making an extreme effort to sound the way she did.
She was the victim here. He should take her lead on how to act from now on.
He bent and gathered up the purse, stuffing the strewn items back inside. There was nothing he could do for the windswept receipts. Tamara would just have to deal with keeping something instead of returning it if she didn’t like it.
“Here,” he said, handing the purse over to her.
Tamara accepted it and rummaged around inside. After a moment, she sighed and closed the latch on the purse. “You couldn’t even try not to get blood on my wallet? It’s probably going to stain before I can get around to cleaning it tonight.”
“Mom, are you kidding me?” Simon stared at her. She gazed back. The more time that passed, the calmer she appeared to be. Her shaking had stopped entirely. “You almost just got mugged. Worse things could have happened. And the only thing that you can really think about is your purse? You can make a new one. Duct tape this time.”
“Oh, honey,” she sighed. “Duct tape stopped being cool back before you even graduated high school. Though, they do make so many different colors and styles these days.”
Despite himself, he smiled a little.
“Nothing bad happened. It’s over. I wish it hadn’t had to happen like that, but it’s over. We’re both fine. That bastard took my other bags, but at least you had more of them.”
“And the lap desk.”
Tamara smiled a little, right back at him. “Yes, and the lap desk. Simon, would you mind walking with me to the van? I don’t think I want to wait around while you drive to me.”
Simon reached out and grasped at his mother’s hand. Her fingers were cold, and he could feel her pulse pounding near the base of her thumb.
Like Nathan’s.
Like shaking hands with Nathanial Pepper, but different. Nathan’s grip was strong and firm. His mother’s felt weak and vulnerable, her fingers thin and knobby as age took its toll.
Tamara looked at their hands clasped between them. “It’s been years since you’ve held my hand like this. And to think that I almost had to get robbed for it to happen.”
“Be quiet, Mom. At least I carried your massive box out to the van. Really, that lap desk is probably worth more than you are.”
“And worth more than you as well, since you wouldn’t be around if not for me.”
This light banter continued as they walked together across the parking lot, heading towards the van. Simon tried to pretend he couldn’t see the occasional drip and splotch of blood on the concrete, leaving a trail in the direction of the mugger. The wolfish desire inside him was to chase down the bastard who had caused them so much trouble, but he also knew he couldn’t leave his mother. She was right. It was over.
At least, it was over until he started driving. There were a few other stores in the area, but he felt like it might be within their best interest to get coffee now instead of later. They could sit inside t
he café, maybe split a slice of cake or a few scones. Once they were relaxed and everything had settled down, they could get back to things as usual.
Unfortunately, this decision was to be a conversational downfall. Going out of his way to hit the coffee shop meant they were going to be in the privacy of the car longer. All the things Tamara wanted to say could come out without any risk of being overheard by regular humans who just wouldn’t understand.
“I really don’t like the way you handled that situation, Simon. I’m sorry.” She added the apology because it would lessen the blow of her words, not because she was actually sorry. It was the only one of her habits that really got under his skin.
“What else was I supposed to do, Mom? I saw him come out with you, and it was clear that he was leading you. What could I have done?”
“You could have called the police from the van. Or gone inside the store for help.”
“And leave you to get hurt?”
“He wasn’t going to hurt me.”
“Then why did you go with him?” Simon demanded. He was so caught up in the conversation by now that he very nearly ran a red light and had to slam on the brakes. There was a police cruiser nearby, idling in a parking lot to get the jump on people like him who were going to break the law.
“He took me by surprise.”
“That’s not good enough, Mom. Why did you go with him?”
“Fine. He had a knife. He put it back in his pocket. He wasn’t going to hurt me, just making sure I cooperated.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“I’m not upset that you saved me. Trust me on that. That would be a foolish thing for anyone to want.” Tamara sighed. Simon could feel her looking right at him and it made him nervous, like he couldn’t focus properly. “I’m very thankful for you. I only wish you hadn’t been so violent. It’s not our place as omegas to be aggressive.”
“I really don’t want to talk about this. It’s not aggressive when you’re defending yourself.”
“But we are supposed to have the support of our alphas to protect us.”
Alpha Principal Page 3
