I walked toward Simian’s house, thinking happy non-thoughts. I was trying to keep my mind blank so that I could enjoy my evening. Sometimes, that was a very hard thing to do. I had so many thoughts that pushing them all down took some work. I was so immersed in the bottling process that it took me a minute to notice a familiar voice calling my name.
I looked up to see DJ Tanner coming up the street toward Simian’s from the opposite direction. I gave him a little smile. He was dressed in a pale blue shirt, the top two buttons undone, and pressed black pants. He looked very nice.
“What brings you back here so soon?” he asked cheerily.
I nodded my head in the direction of Simian’s house. “Simian made me promise to come to dinner tonight.”
“Huh? Me too. Told me to dress nice,” he said, extending his arms to demonstrate his outfit. As DJ was a jeans and T-shirt kind of man, I certainly appreciated the difference. “You did it far better than I did.”
I smiled at the compliment. “Thank you. Do you want to knock?”
DJ bounded up the steps ahead of me and banged his fist on the door; it opened, but instead of letting us in, Simian stepped outside. He did not look ready to go out.
“Simian? What’s the matter?” I asked, worried by the creases that were forming in his brow.
His mouth twisted into an apologetic smile. “It’s Sophie. She’s not feeling very good; in fact, she’s in the bathroom being sick right now. I don’t think she’ll be able to go out.”
“Is it serious?” I was concerned. Sophie, despite the fact that she was not a werewolf who had the ability to stave off most illnesses like they were nothing, rarely got sick.
“Just something she had at lunch, I think. She should be okay once it’s out of her system. I’m really sorry–but would you two be okay going to dinner without us?”
I looked between Simian and DJ, lines beginning to furrow in my own brow.
“Why don’t you call the restaurant and cancel tonight? We can always do this another time.” I said.
Simian was quick with his answer; a little too quick. “I tried but I couldn’t get through. You two are already dressed up, you might as well go and have a nice meal.”
“What do you say?” DJ asked, looking at me as if the entire weight of this decision was on me.
I looked between the two wolves. Simian looked genuinely contrite and DJ merely looked hopeful.
“Look,” DJ added, “we can walk over there and when we get there, if you just want to cancel, we can, and I’ll walk you home.”
I sighed. Defeated by logic and reason once again. “All right.”
Simian smiled, patted DJ on the shoulder, and slipped back inside his house. DJ gave me a very soft and sincere smile.
“I think we’re being set up.”
“Did you get that feeling too?”
We walked to the restaurant. It was a nice place down by the river named Browns. By the time we had reached the doors, my stomach was growling so much that it seemed silly to be at a restaurant and not eat. DJ held the door for me, and I went inside. The room was decorated in warm, rich colors that made the place feel quaint and homey. The maître de bustled over to the podium while DJ helped me hang my coat on the nearby rack.
“Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, table in the name of Urquhart.” He scanned a list that was mounted on the podium in front of him. He tapped a finger on a line.
“Ah yes, table for two, this way please.”
DJ and I exchanged a look, then shrugged and followed the maître de to the table. He pulled out a chair for me, handed us a menu each, and retreated. I pushed my chair out.
“I’ll be right back. I just need to go leave a slightly threatening voice mail.”
DJ chuckled, and I darted into the ladies room. I took out my phone, deciding to call Simian’s mobile because I didn’t want to swear on his answering machine where his kids heard it. The call went straight to his voice mail, as I’d expected.
“Simian. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, but I do not fucking appreciate it. You have no right, and I doubt it ever occurred to you that you have no right, to mess in my love life. You planned this out, you sneaky son of a bitch, and when I get my hands on you there will be pain. I do not now and never will need you to set me up with a nice wolf boy. I am a grown woman…”
I was cut off by the sound of a beep, signaling I had filled the entire message. I called him back twice more, my language becoming slightly more varied and colorful each time. Finally, I felt I had vented enough, so I looked at myself in the mirror and took deep breaths to calm down, then stiffened my spine and went back to the table.
DJ had his menu down, a napkin in his lap and an unsure look on his face as though worried that I’d left him there. He smiled when he saw me coming back to the table, and it was all bright white teeth, full lipped and dazzling.
“Hey. I took the liberty of ordering some wine. I hope you don’t mind. I chose a white zinfandel.”
“That’s fine,” I said, taking the seat and picking up the menu.
“Are you done threatening Simian and his various body parts for this?”
I glared at him over the top of the menu.
“Not that I knew about it, I swear. I didn’t even know when he asked me that you were coming.”
I was satisfied that he wasn’t lying to me. Werewolves were a little like dogs in a way; unless they practiced really hard, you could usually see their true emotions in their eyes. DJ had the look of an honest man.
“Yes, I’m quite finished with the threatening part of my evening.”
“Good.” He smiled, picking his menu up once more.
It was no surprise to me when he ordered steak, the 12 ounce one, no less. Werewolves had to eat a lot because of their increased metabolism. It was why most of them knew how to cook. In fact, werewolves were some of the best chefs in the world. I mean, come on, Gordon Ramsey, there had be a supernatural reason behind all that aggression. It was obvious when you thought about it.
I ordered the butternut squash ravioli, and watched DJ’s nose wrinkle because it had no meat in it. I didn’t need to scarf down calories in order to maintain myself. Since my change, my appetite had stayed the same. I hadn’t felt a sudden yen for bird seed either—which I was greatly thankful for. Once we’d ordered and the wine was with us, I sipped liberally from mine—still a little mad over the situation. DJ attempted to start conversation up again.
“So, what are you working on now?”
“Not much. I just finished supplying the police with information, and I have another client who wishes me to break a spell on her. That one is going to take some research.”
“What kind of spell is it?” DJ seemed genuinely curious. A lot of shape shifters—usually those with canine based lycanthropy—didn’t really like magic; it sort of rankled them. So, they didn’t seek to learn much about it. Cats, on the other hand, were completely fine with it, which is probably why they’ve been chosen as familiars throughout history. You rarely saw a witch who owned a dog.
“It’s a silencing spell. It literally means that she can’t tell anyone a certain fact. Every time she tries it, her throat closes up. It’s a really severe way to keep a secret.”
“That must be awful. Especially if it was something bad,” DJ said, swirling the wine in his glass and trying to look thoughtful.. He liked sports, rarely read anything more complex than the odd paperback mystery and thought the primary use for his bathtub was to hold overused and muddy sports equipment.
“What about you?” I said, endeavoring to change the subject to something not about my business. “How’s the bar?”
“Same old, people come in, drink some, pay up and go home. We’re having an after-moon party this Monday night, give everyone the weekend to recover from the last few nights.”
“Speaking of, how did LeBron fare?”
“He did good. First run with a pack can be tough; you got a
ll the shitheads who think they need to beat on the guy to show they’re dominant to him.” He seemed to rethink what he was saying when he saw my expression. “Not that LeBron got beaten up badly or anything. In fact, he’s quite a strong wolf; beat down a few of those that tried their luck. I think last night he spent most of his time chasing Brie through the woods.”
I got an amusing image of a shape-shifted Brie up a tree, hissing in her catty way, while LeBron barked up at her and wagged his tail.
“She seems quite fond of LeBron.”
“Yeah, and she’s also the last single girl in her family and she’s nearly thirty. Her biological clock is ticking at her something fierce.”
I sniggered. Some women went absolutely nuts about hitting thirty and still being unmarried and childless.
“I take it you don’t worry about that.”
“Not in the slightest. I could live for a really long time, DJ, and from what I’ve gathered about my mother, she could have been about three hundred when she had me, so I think I have time.”
He leaned back and looked at me, as though trying to figure out how I really felt about what I just said.
“It must be scary,” he said quietly. “Knowing you have all that time and not knowing anything more than that.”
Just then, the waiter arrived with our food. I stared at the steaming ravioli, trying to look anywhere but at DJ while I composed my face. It was scary. It was horrible not to know even the basics about your…species. I hated that word. I looked and felt mostly human, had done all my life so far. This knowledge had been like the worst birthday present ever.
“I’m sorry,” he said when I hadn’t looked up for a long time. “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”
I raised my head finally, looking him in the face. “No, you’re right. It is scary. It’s very scary.”
He reached across the table, placing his hand over mine; his hand was very large, very warm, and very dry. His touch made me feel protected, which was a strange feeling to have.
DJ was a very handsome man, muscular to the nth degree; he ran his own business, he was sweet, he was kind. On more than one occasion, the sight of his bare skin had made my libido hop up and down. So why, when I looked at him, couldn’t I see myself in a relationship with him? He was exactly the kind of man I should go for, but part of me—a very loud part—just didn’t want him.
It was stupid, and I kept saying that over and over again in my head; but still I pulled my hand away from his, picking up my fork.
“The food will go cold,” I said, barely an excuse, then occupied my mouth by eating very slowly.
We didn’t talk much after that, and despite telling him I would be fine by myself, he insisted on walking me home, like a real date. I kept telling myself that it wasn’t an actual date, as I’d not consented to it outright, but I had to admit it wasn’t the worst night of my life. DJ was not a bad person to be around. He didn’t make me nervous or feel threatened. He held his hand down by his side, palm facing toward me for the whole walk, as though half hoping that I might take it, but I kept my hands to myself.
When we reached my building, I turned to face him and started to rattle off the pleasantries that you do when saying good night at the end of an evening. I stopped halfway through. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something and not listening to a word I was saying.
“Well, good night, then,” I said finally, and turned to head up the steps.
His hand caught my arm; he dragged me back and bent his head down to mine. Then he was kissing me, like he had before when he’d had me pinned on the ground, except that this time I was pinned against his big body—which was starting to show signs that it was happy to have me there. The kiss was gentle at first, probing, unsure; then, because I was so shocked by the suddenness of it and didn’t pull away, it became more demanding.
His mouth was warm and tasted spicy from the peppercorn sauce he’d slathered all over his steak. He smelled like really good cologne, all manly zest, but beneath that I could smell the wolf, the woods, the wild. I swear I heard the rumble of a growl come from his throat. Just as I was thinking about stopping the kiss, because I really hadn’t meant for there to be one at all, my back hit a wall so that he was pressing against me in that way that set my hormones to hopping.
His hands ran up my arms, cupped my face, breaking the kiss so he could kiss down my neck, then he was back at my mouth again, so fast I barely had time to catch a breath. His hands were firm as they mapped out the curves of my breasts and then down to my hips, yanking me up so that my feet were off the ground. I felt that another part of him was firm as it pressed against my thigh. I had to dig my heels into the back of his legs to support myself as he started to make little rocking movements against me, which were undeniably pleasant.
The position, however, hit far too close to home for my comfort. Aram and I had done this only days ago, something I had sworn I wouldn’t do, and afterwards that I wouldn’t do again. I felt the demanding bump of hips and knew I had to make it stop, it had to stop. I tried to pull my mouth away but his hand flew to my hair to grip it, to keep my mouth pressed to his as his tongue tried to find purchase. He wasn’t going to let me tell him to stop—not, I think on purpose, but he was lost in the moment, in the feel of me up against him.
I started to panic and when I panic, my reflexes kick in to protect me. The fire started at my fingertips and like a flash burn raced up my arms. He cried out, stumbling back, leaving me to try to land on my feet without falling over. I huddled against the wall, gasping for breath, while he put out the smaller fires on his shirt sleeves. He looked at me, his breath ragged too, watching the flames as they danced along my skin, burning through the sleeves of my dress.
He stepped forward as though to help me, but I motioned him away. Slowly, the flames receded, but my dress was ruined. DJ tried again to move closer. I held up a hand in warning.
“You stay where you are.”
“I’m sorry, Cassandra; I didn’t plan on jumping you like that. You just smell so good and you taste even better,” he said, his eyes glazing over as he thought about it. He shook his head as if trying to call his brain back to its senses. I could still see the line of him through his slacks.
“Just point that somewhere else, will you?” I snapped.
His cheeks flushed. “I won’t apologize for wanting you.”
I shook my head, stepping back. “I’m not doing this.”
“I know, you’re right. Not on a first date.”
I stared at him bewildered. He was considering this our first date? Did he normally get that handsy with a woman on the first date? I took two more steps back.
“This wasn’t a date, DJ. You didn’t ask me out and I wouldn’t have said yes. I’m not looking for a relationship right now. You’re going to have to accept that.”
“That’s what your mouth says,” he said, grinning as he looked me up and down.
I turned away from him to march inside my building, gathering my hurt and my pride around me. “Good night, Mister Tanner.”
Chapter Fifteen
I walked into my bedroom, throwing my purse down on my makeup table, and pulled my dress over my head. I was staring at the burnt cloth when a knock came on my balcony doors. I spun around, holding the dress to me because the curtains were wide open. Jareth raised his hand in greeting.
I grabbed my robe from the corner of my closet door and pulled it on, belting it tight. I headed over to the balcony door and pulled it open.
“Jesus, Jareth, lurk much?”
“I was not lurking. I was waiting for you. May I come in?”
I thought about it for a minute, then stood aside. “I suppose so.”
He tilted his head with a slightly disappointed air. “I’m going to need more than that, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, please won’t you come in, Jareth?”
He bowed his head in thanks and stepped over the threshold. Apparently, dripping with sarcasm or not, it was still an i
nvite. Magic didn’t discriminate. He looked around. As far as I could recall Jareth had never been in my apartment. After a brief survey, he took a seat on my chaise lounge couch.
“What do you want, Jareth?”
“To talk to you.” He patted the empty space next to him.
I took the seat, crossing my legs and arms to indicate my impatience. He placed his clasped hands over his knee and gave me a fatherly look.
“Do you know that engaging in intimate acts with someone and then running away can be considered a mixed message?”
I let my mouth hang open. This couldn’t be real. “Usually,” I said, “when I have this dream, I’m naked.”
“You are not dreaming, Cassandra, and if you want to be naked I will not object; but I am trying to be serious.”
I slapped his arm. He looked down at it and then back up at me. I guess he didn’t understand the gesture. I did hope that he could sense how uncomfortable I was, as he was supposed to be empathic.
“You lured him out,” he said. I put up a hand to stop him.
“I did no such thing. I got tickets just the same as him. I thought at first that he’d sent them, then maybe that you had.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Another one of your clever plans to get us back together. Like pretending to hit on me…”
He smiled at me, flashing a little fang. “Clever plan? Oh, no, I truly desire to bed you, but as you wish only to couple with my brother I will respect that. Unless that display with the wolf was you changing your mind.”
“You saw that?” Mortification, thy name is Cassandra.
“It was a little hard to miss, just the lust alone.” He inhaled deeply, and I felt my cheeks flush. “Admittedly, it was mostly his lust. You seemed confused.”
“I am, more and more it seems. It would be nice if something made sense for a change.”
I pushed up from the couch, no longer comfortable sitting near Jareth. I had really been hoping that our little drunken snog had been a brilliant plan of his to enrage his brother enough to reclaim his “bride”. Technically that’s what I was to Aram, his “bride”. It basically meant we were boyfriend and girlfriend, and other vampires weren’t allowed to feed on me. It had been the only way to get Aram out of trouble after he’d overfed from me in our attempt to drive a demon from my body. That moment had been the start of everything.
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