The Girl Who Cried Werewolf

by Heather Hildenbrand

  Anna giggles uncontrollably, and even Talia has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

  “Let’s see it, Romy.” Justice fist pumps, cheering me on.

  Beside him, Derek, the self-proclaimed beer pong champion of the East Coast, wiggles his eyebrows. Justice is cute with his flirting; Derek not so much.

  I shoot them one last withering glare before ripping my cover-up off and throwing it on the ground.

  Wolf howls erupt, and I shake my head, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Brody picks up Anna and twirls her in a circle before dragging her body down his until she lands on her feet again. He wiggles his eyebrows at her.

  “See anything you like, baby?” he asks, and Anna blushes, ducking her head under his chin.

  Talia catches my eye and makes a gagging motion before turning to the room and getting everyone’s attention. “All right, you guys, it’s showtime! Get out there, and shake what the good Lord gave ya! It's time to make mama some money,” she shouts, shimmying her shoulders before turning on her heel and throwing open the door.

  The crowd goes wild as she drags Anna out the door. “Welcome to Kappa! I hope you’re all hungry! KAT is where the goodies are at,” she screams. The crowd roars, and she grins before motioning for us to join her. Anna quickly steps to her side, eliciting another roar from the crowd as the two of them descend into the madness, heading for Anna’s truck.

  “Shall we,” Brody asks me, holding out his elbow.

  I snort. “I guess we shall!”

  I’m pretty sure this is what hell feels like. My arms are sore from carrying massive trays of cupcakes above my head, and I have to admit that I'm pretty mad about it. I thought all those late nights holding my book above my head in order to read in bed would have given me better upper arm strength than this.

  To make matters worse, I have frosting in places no person should ever have frosting. It’s even in my hair, which is why my long auburn locks are now piled in a messy bun on top of my head.

  And as if that doesn't sound like the seventh ring of hell, my stomach is sticky. Why is my stomach sticky? Oh, yeah. Yet another delightful detail that Talia neglected to tell me. Five dollar whipped cream body shots. My stomach has been licked by so many tongues today that I’m starting to feel like a cat.

  “Hey, Romy, how you holding up? Need to borrow my muscles for anything? I'm sure Anna won't mind. ” I look up, startled by the sudden appearance of Brody. His sparkly booty shorts twinkle thanks to the sunlight beating down on us both. If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it. In fact, all of the Deltas seem fine strutting around in what basically amounts to bikini bottoms. The female customers don’t mind it either.

  “What does that mean,” I ask, pointing to the swirling tribal tattoo that wraps around his left ribs. “I’ve noticed a lot of your frat brothers have that same design.”

  “It’s just a delta thing.” He shrugs before mock whispering behind the back of his hand, “And the ladies love it!”

  I wrinkle my nose, stifling my retort in an attempt to be nice to him–for Anna's sake.

  “Cool. Hey would you mind covering for me? I need to take a breather,” I say, motioning over my shoulder to the break area set up behind Anna’s truck.

  “Sure,” he says, throwing his arm over my shoulder and pulling me into his side. “I gotta keep my baby happy by looking out for her friends.”

  “You better not be trying to move in on my best girl,”

  “Don’t you best girl me, you traitor,” I tell Justice before stepping into his embrace.

  “Ew, why is your stomach sticky?” he asks, his nose crinkled in disgust.

  “I swear to God! If you tell me that you haven’t been forced to allow strangers to lick your stomach for five bucks like some cheap hooker, we’re never speaking again.”

  “Quit messing with her,” Brody says, punching Justice lightly in the ribs before tucking me back into his side. “She looks like she’s contemplating how to castrate you.”

  Justice isn’t fazed by my death glare. He reaches forward, ruffling my hair. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, girl. I’ve got a slot as shot-bitch this afternoon.”

  “The next time you see him, be careful with those hugs. You guys may get stuck together.” Brody chuckles before continuing, but I don’t hear a word he says.

  Because my pulse spikes in a way that can only mean one thing... Kash is near. My body's ridiculously aware of him, and it thrums now, pulling my gaze across the crowd. Sure enough, a second later, I spot him leaning casually against a tree on the far edge of the courtyard.

  “Thanks for covering for me,” I mutter to Brody. “I’ll see you guys later, okay?” I ask, not waiting for either of them to respond before I slip out from under Brody’s arm.

  I hurriedly weave my way through the crowd, afraid Kash will disappear if I take too long, but he stays where he is. When I get close, he straightens, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches me. His eyes blaze, but I'm surprised to see hunger in their depths instead of the usual irritation. If it were anyone else, I’d call it lust.

  But that can’t be right.

  “Stalking is illegal. You know that, right?” I say by way of greeting. I smirk, letting him know that I'm kidding, but he doesn't acknowledge my joke. Instead, his gaze rakes over my body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

  He steps closer until his hard chest is nearly brushing my cupcake clad boobs, and his nostrils flare. His gaze lifts to something over my head, and he growls so low I'm not sure if I imagined it.

  “You didn't tell me you have a boyfriend, Pepper,” he says, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest once more.

  “I don’t,” I say, but he doesn’t answer.

  His gaze is still settled over my head, so I turn, following his line of sight. Justice is nowhere to be seen, but Brody is watching us. He stares back, his body tense as though he's worried about me, and I soften a little. Maybe Talia and I were wrong about him.

  Kash growls again, and I snap my attention back to him, my eyes widening in disbelief. I grab his arm, dragging him through the crowd and behind the truck for a bit of privacy. I don't need an overgrown dog pissing on me like I'm his favorite fire hydrant, in front of everyone.

  “Brody is my roommate’s boyfriend, but you're really cute when you're jealous,” I say, trying to loosen the tension.

  “I’m not jealous,” he grumbles.

  “Whatever you say.” I sigh. “Why are you here, Kash? I thought you told me your world wasn't for me,” I say, mimicking his deep voice.

  That seems to snap him out of whatever is going on inside his head. His eyes look sad, and I clench my fists against the urge to smooth the wrinkle between them.

  “You're right, Pepper. My world isn't for you,” he says, reaching his hand up to brush a wayward strand of my hair behind my ear before trailing his fingers down my cheek. “I meant what I said but watching you in that ridiculous cupcake bikini…” He stops, drawing a ragged breath. “I sure as hell wanted to break all the rules and take a bite.”

  My heart thunders in my chest. Everything in me clenches at his husky words. At his soft touch. He takes a deep breath then groans as he steps closer, his hand fitting perfectly into the dip of my waist.

  His body is tense, and his eyes glow slightly. I shiver, but whether it's from the feel of his skin against so much of my own or the knowledge that his wolf is so close to the surface, I'm not sure.

  “The scent of your desire is killing me, Pepper. I didn't come here for you.”

  That snaps me out of the haze clouding my mind. My temper spikes, and I step out of his hold.

  “Then what are you here for?” I spit out through clenched teeth, my eyes darting to the crowd of women.

  Now who’s jealous? Ugh.

  He reaches out, drawing a finger down my cheek. “Your anger is cute as hell, Pepper. But I didn't mean it like that. I'm here taking care of something personal. I don't know why I keep finding m
yself thrown in your path, but nothing has changed. I don't have time for this.” He gestures between our chests.

  I glare at him. “You’re the one who showed up here acting like someone had stolen your favorite chew toy, so don't give me some bullshit lecture about what you have time for.”

  He chuckles. “That was a solid dog burn, Pepper.” He sighs, his dark mood back. “He would have liked you,” he murmurs.

  “Who would’ve?”

  His eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see the pain he keeps hidden within them. “My father. Actually, they both would have liked you.”

  I frown, confused as I realize he’s speaking about his father in past tense. As if he’s no longer here. And someone else. His mother perhaps? My heart twinges with an all too familiar pain. I open my mouth to ask–and to offer my sympathies–but I don’t get that far.

  “Is this guy bothering you, Romy?”

  I jump, and Kash stiffens, our intimate moment shattered as Brody strides over. He throws an arm around my shoulders, glaring at Kash.

  “Nice shorts,” Kash says with a disgusted look at Brody’s sparkly mankini.

  Brody’s eyes narrow.

  I push out from under Brody’s arm for the second time that day and stand in between them.

  “I'm fine,” I tell Brody. “Just talking to a friend.”

  The word feels strange in my mouth, especially considering none of my interactions with Kash have technically been what you would call friendly. But I don’t need a babysitter–or a savior.

  At my words, Brody breaks his staring contest with Kash and looks down at me with a timid smile. “Sorry, Romy. From where I stood, it seemed like you were upset. I'll happily kick this loser’s ass if you need me to. These aren't vanity muscles,” he says, flexing his guns.

  I snort, trying hard not to roll my eyes. “I'm sure. Thanks though, Brody. Why don't you just go check on Anna? She doesn’t always take the best care of herself when she’s working the truck. I bet she hasn’t eaten all day.”

  He hesitates like he's unsure if he should leave me, but eventually his concern for Anna wins out. “I’ll leave the door open. If you need me, just shout,” Brody says to me before turning and jogging up to the truck door.

  I breathe out a sigh of relief but tense once again when I take in Kash's posture. His eyes are glowing as he stares at where Brody disappeared inside the truck, and I smack his chest to get him to snap out of it.

  “Hey. Earth to Kash.”

  His gaze swings back to me. “How well do you know jackass over there?”

  I shrug. “Not well, I guess. I've seen him around at parties and stuff since I started school here, but today was my first time having any real conversations with him. I told you he just started dating my friend Anna.”

  Kash doesn’t answer.

  “Why?” I press.

  “Promise me you'll be careful,” he says, stepping close again. “I know I told you that my world isn't safe for you, but I’m beginning to realize your world isn't always safe, either.”

  I think of the two missing girls and deflate a little. That's an unfortunate reality of being a woman, no matter what world you live in.

  “I’ll try,” I tell him, breathless at our closeness.

  He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead that sends a tingle straight to my toes. “I guess it's your turn to stalk me next,” he says with a smirk.

  “I knew you were stalking me!”

  He chuckles, shaking his head at me. “I gotta go, Pepper.”

  I bite my lip and nod, afraid to say something that will break this weird truce we seem to have today. He kisses my temple one last time before turning and walking back towards the crowd. I glance away, sadness welling inside of me.

  “Pepper!”

  My head snaps up at the sound of his voice. A flash blinds me, and I blink the white spots away in time to see him holding up my old red phone. “That one's getting framed,” he shouts as he melts into the crowd.

  It isn’t until he’s vanished completely that I realize he’s just taken another photo of me–and once again, I’ve failed to take any of him.

  A smile curves my lips as another thought occurs to me, and I kick myself for not thinking of it sooner. He said it’s my turn to stalk him? Game on. I know just how to track him down.

  Chapter 7

  I finish my makeup with a swipe of lip gloss and deem myself camera ready before powering up my laptop. Then I cringe as I check the messages and DMs on my Instagram page. #TheGirlWhoCriedWerewolf is officially trending. There are a few people who are defending me, but the vast majority of comments are from the worst internet trolls known to man. I blow out a breath, briefly considering turning off commenting for the account before deciding against it. I’m just going to have to ride out this storm.

  Time to give them an update and turn this train wreck around.

  Mustering confidence, I hit the button for LIVE, paste on a smile, and wait for the video to begin streaming.

  “Hey book boos! RomyReadsRomance here with an update on hashtag book boyfriends are real! As all of you know, I've been trying to get my hands on proof that werewolves do–in fact–exist. Unfortunately, things have gotten a little complicated.

  “The werewolf I saw is every bit as delicious as we'd hoped, but he's also craftier than I gave him credit for. From stealing my phone to flustering me so thoroughly that I miss my chance, the proof always seems to just slip through my fingers. But don't worry! I'm not giving up. Every book nerd knows that werewolves travel in a pack. If I can't get proof of this particular werewolf, it's time to move on to another. Today, I'm heading out to do some research before my next recon mission. Wish me luck, and don't forget—hashtag book boyfriends are real!”

  I blow my camera a kiss before ending the video and let out a sigh of relief. Normally, I chat with a couple of live viewers, but today I’m too afraid to even look at the comments while streaming.

  This is a mess.

  But if becoming an influencer has taught me anything about social media, the only thing worse than powering through this campaign I’ve created would be backtracking. There’s no way I’d survive the backlash if I retracted my claim now. Unfortunately, moving forward isn’t going much better.

  Proving werewolves are real was supposed to build my following. Instead, I'm losing them faster than Talia loses her pants after her fifth Midnight Kiss.

  Yesterday, during the fundraiser, I’d been so caught up in Kash that I hadn't even thought about trying to get proof he was a werewolf. That wasn't good. When he was near, my body took over, and my mind took a backseat. That left me with only one option. If I couldn't prove Kash was a werewolf, I'd just have to prove someone else was. Someone I didn't know. Someone I didn't have a distracting attraction to.

  Which brought me to today's excursion. I need to know more about werewolves and their lore if I’m ever going to find another target.

  I pull up the website for my favorite bookstore and quickly text myself the address. I’m shit with directions, and even though I’ve been there multiple times, I always take a wrong turn without my GPS. Not today, Satan. Mama has shit to do and werewolves to catch! I refuse to be thwarted by a wrong turn.

  A mischievous grin pulls at my face as I pull up the next website. Kash had said it was my turn to stalk him, and that’s just what I planned to do. I may not be able to prove he’s a werewolf, but that doesn’t mean he can’t help lead me to my next target.

  As the ‘find my phone’ search calculates my device’s location, I send a silent thanks to Talia for insisting I turn on that particular feature. When the location pops up on my laptop, I let out a victory whoop and break out my signature victory dance.

  Luck is on my side. Not only were they able to find my phone, but it also happens to be in the same area of town as the bookstore. I open another tab and search the address, surprised to see that my phone is at a Stop and Shop.

  “Shit,” I curse as another thought
occurs to me. Can I make it there before he leaves? I hurry to throw on my shoes and spot my purse on a chair under last night’s clothes. Snatching it on my way out, I hurry down the hall as quietly as possible. Snagging my keys from the table near the door, I slip out, breathing out a sigh of relief as I jog down the stairs. I hurry to my car, tossing my bag in the passenger seat as I slide in.

  Time to break about a million traffic laws.

  I’m panting by the time I park and hurry into the rundown grocery store. A cashier scans cigarettes for an older man riding in one of those motorized scooter carts. Behind them, racks of discount snacks are advertised by faded yellow SALE signs. One of them has been graffitied with what looks like either a cucumber or a strategic part of the male anatomy. As grocery stores go, this one’s got a serious shady vibe.

  I slow long enough to grab a cart for blending purposes then hightail it through the aisles, searching. Besides rows of nearly expired canned goods, the aisles are empty. No customers. No werewolves. No Kash.

  Maybe I’m too late.

  I’ve done almost a full lap when I hear a familiar deep voice coming from the next aisle over.

  “. . . customer just left. Come on already.” Kash sounds annoyed but not murderous. Still, it’s early yet.

  I leave the cart and creep to the end of the row, holding my breath as I peer around the corner and into the next aisle.

  Kash stands with his back to me. Facing him is his friend Lynch, the one who threw him that party and apparently has a thing for kindergarten décor.

  “Relax. I’m almost done,” Lynch says then goes back to perusing the cookie choices.

  Kash looks irritable, as usual, and darts glances toward the front of the store. His friend holds a basket already half-full of sugary treats. I zero in on the Oreos then glance back up only to freeze when I notice Lynch staring back at me.

  Shit.

  He cocks his head, a gleam lighting in his green eyes. So far, Kash hasn’t noticed me, and I bite my lip, hoping his friend isn’t about to out me before I can make my move.