Hungry Like a Wolf

by Jessica Lynch

  It would never occur to her that Evangeline might be avoiding her, either. Oh no.

  The first time Naomi had the police stop by for a welfare check, Evangeline learned it was much easier to grit her teeth, paste a fake smile on her face, and answer the phone whenever her mother called.

  She was just finishing her plate of pasta when the phone rang that night. Without even looking to see who was calling, she answered as she always did.

  “Hi, Mom. Yup, I’m still alive.”

  Naomi’s soft sigh was the only sign that she didn’t appreciate her daughter’s morbid sense of humor.

  Skipping over any pleasantries, she asked after Evangeline’s day—though demanded might have been a better word for the rapid-fire questions she let loose in a barrage of well-meaning.

  What did you do today? Where did you go? What did you eat?

  If Evangeline’s answers were satisfactory, Naomi would then move on to the heavy hitters.

  Did you have any nightmares last night, honey? Any sudden headaches? What’s today’s date? I hate to ask, but you know Dr. Morris said that we have to... are there any new blanks in your memories?

  And then, no matter how many times she said no, her mother always had to add one last question.

  Are you ready to come home yet?

  Evangeline played her part by telling her mother what she wanted to hear—whether it was the truth or not—in the hopes that it would get Naomi off the phone faster. Except for that last question.

  She always said no. Even if her wards failed and something happened to her building, she would rather live in the woods than spend one more night living under her parents’ roof. It had been a major blow to her pride to move back in after her accident. It took nearly three years before her mother and father agreed that she could live on her own again.

  She would hold onto that scrap of independence with her teeth if that’s what it took to keep it.

  Naomi’s obvious disappointment when Evangeline refused to consider moving back to East Windsor usually signaled the end of their phone conversation. She would suggest that perhaps Evangeline was tired and should head to bed. Desperate to end the conversation, she would agree.

  Not that night, though.

  “Oh, Eva, sweetie. Can’t believe I almost forgot to mention it… guess who I saw the other day.”

  Evangeline winced at the nickname. She’d never liked it when she was younger, though she gave up trying to tell her mother that ages ago. “I don’t know, Mom. Who?”

  “Fiona’s son. You remember him, don’t you?”

  Evangeline tightened her grip on her phone. She had to remember that, if the call suddenly died because she mangled her phone or “accidentally” smashed it, then she would only have about a ten minute head start before her mother sent the cops to come break down the door to her apartment. When they found her—and they would—after the cops dragged her kicking and screaming back to her mother, Naomi would still insist on this chat. She was certain of it.

  Better to get it over with now.

  “You saw Adam?”

  You remember him, don’t you?

  The Wrights had lived down the street in the neighborhood where Evangeline grew up. Like Evangeline, Adam Wright was an only child. They were the same age and, since their mothers liked to drink coffee together and gossip, it was inevitable that they would be friends.

  At least, that’s what Naomi used to call him. Eva’s little friend. Ha. To Evangeline, Adam Wright was a terror with an angel’s smile.

  When they were in elementary school, Adam got a kick out of chasing her on the playground, pulling her pigtails, even trying to get a peek at what was under her skirt, all while she squealed and ducked away before throwing rocks at him.

  In middle school, Adam was the most popular boy in their class; dark blonde hair, warm brown eyes, and an innocently handsome face made him a hit with the teachers and the hormonal teen girls who all scribbled Mrs. Wright on their binders. Evangeline didn’t fall for it. Even so, he was her first kiss during an awkward game of spin the bottle, and Adam never let her forget it.

  By the time they were in high school, both of their mothers had this brilliant idea that the two of them were meant to be. Evangeline—who, even at seventeen, scoffed at the idea of fate—gave in to her mother’s not-so-subtle hinting and went on a few dates with Adam. They only lasted until she got wind of a reputation that Adam tried desperately to hide from her.

  He had the angelic face, the innocent expression down pat. It was Evangeline, though, who was the naive one of the pair. When she listened to the gossip in the girl’s room, she realized that Adam was only after one thing. Since she didn’t want to be just another conquest for him, she broke things off.

  In the years since, Adam had tried countless times to get her to change her mind. She refused. She wouldn’t let him try to charm her again—and charm was the right word for it. Adam might have sworn he was as human as they come, but sometimes she wondered if he had a little witch blood in him. He could be too persuasive. There was a reason she hadn’t seen him in ages.

  How many years now? Not since her accident, and that was three years ago. Four? Maybe five? That sounded about right.

  Did she remember him, though? Evangeline stifled a snort. How could she forget?

  “I did. He asked about you.”

  She was sure he did. “That’s nice.”

  If Naomi heard the edge in Evangeline’s voice to drop it, she pretended she didn’t. Like a bulldozer, she still kept coming, ready to knock over everything in her path.

  “He’s been getting updates on your… mm… your progress from Fiona. They’re very worried about you.”

  “Tell them I’m fine.”

  “I did. Both Adam and his mother were glad to hear it. And then he asked if you were seeing anyone.”

  And there it was.

  Evangeline could’ve guessed it was coming. The carefully stated comment still made her stomach drop.

  She loved her mother. She really did. But it was hard to remember why exactly when Naomi started to meddle. Was she seeing anyone? No. Her mother knew that, too. And since Evangeline hadn’t been on a date since long before her accident, it wasn’t even as if she could blame her reaction on the crash.

  Because there was a reaction.

  Her stomach tightened. She wasn’t surprised and she couldn’t control it. It happened every time someone asked her why she was still single, or whenever her mother started to matchmake again. She couldn’t explain it—especially not to Naomi—but just the idea of talking to a man, spending time alone with him in an intimate setting… it made her feel like she was going to hurl.

  Seriously.

  There was a twist in her gut, a burn in the back of her throat, and a shaky feeling that always came over her. Dating? Yeah. Not gonna happen. Even if it was only catching up, even if she’d known the guy since kindergarten, it didn’t matter. It filled her with a dread that was irrational.

  She blamed it on the accident. It left her so many different shades of messed up that it was easy to fault the crash and her recovery for how much she had changed over the last three years.

  Swallowing roughly, Evangeline knew she had to say something. “Mom—”

  “Of course I told him you weren’t. He could hardly believe it, pretty girl like you still unattached. You should have seen the look on his face. You know, I think he’s still harboring that little crush on you.”

  “Mom,” she tried again, with a touch more urgency this time. “I really don’t—”

  Naomi continued as if she didn’t hear her. “You would enjoy yourself, Eva. Fiona is always raving about what a good boy Adam is.”

  Adam was a grown man. Maybe he’d matured as he hit his late twenties, grew out of his womanizing ways. Evangeline doubted it. In her opinion, Adam hadn’t been a “good boy” since the time he tried to talk her into losing her virginity in the darkroom during senior year photography. Ten years ago, she got him to
back off by splashing him with stop bath. Had he changed all that much since then?

  Her mother seemed to think so.

  “—and, you know, he’s made something of himself. He’s constantly moving up in that job of his. Fiona tells me he’s due for another promotion soon.”

  That caught Evangeline’s attention. “Wait a sec, Mom. Doesn’t he… didn’t you tell me not too long ago that he works at one of the Cages?”

  Cage. Technically that wasn’t the politically correct term for the magic-free prisons created for dangerous paranormals—that would be “voluntary incarceration facility”—but “Cage” was what most everyone called them since a majority of the inmates were animal shifters who were kept locked away because they weren’t tame enough to be allowed on the loose. It wasn’t nice. It wasn’t fair. Still, even Evangeline had to admit it fit.

  She didn’t mind the Paras. She had no reason to. When she was a little girl, her best friend had been an untrained witch with the loveliest lilac eyes. Some of Evangeline’s fondest memories involved all of the trouble two girls could get into when magic was involved.

  It was a shame that their friendship didn’t last. Once they graduated to middle school, Morgan was sent to a Para academy to learn to control her powers and Evangeline—at her parents’ insistence—attended a local human-only private school.

  If she was being honest? Though she got along with humans and Paras alike, there was one race of paranormals that… that just made her nervous.

  Shifters.

  And it wasn’t because each of the shifters walked around with some kind of animal inside of them that could spring out without a moment’s notice.

  It was the whole ‘mates’ thing.

  Everyone—human or not—knew all about how certain Para races believed in fated mates. It was the whole basis behind the Bond Laws that got passed right after the world learned that the paranormal races had always existed alongside the humans.

  But shifters? They were the worst. Supposedly a shifter could tell their mate from one single sniff.

  What kind of shit was that?

  Seriously. What about the chosen mate? They could have a job, a life, even another family that maybe wasn’t touched by magic, but was just as important. Didn’t matter, according to the shifters. Fate chooses—which meant that, a lot of the times, the partners didn’t get to.

  That bothered Evangeline, even more now. She shuddered. There had been so many things that were out of her control lately. Fated mates? Lifelong bonds? Nope. Just the idea that she might have no say in who she would spend the rest of her life with made her want to hole up in her apartment and never leave.

  After everything she had gone through these last three years, Evangeline was done with letting anyone else make decisions for her.

  Even her well-meaning mother.

  Naomi was still talking. Evangeline realized that she was trying to explain how respectable it was to be a police officer doing his year’s time as a Para prison guard. Great. So her mother hadn’t given up on convincing her that she should give Adam a shot.

  With a softly murmured, “Mom,” she finally managed to interrupt her mother’s pleasant voice.

  “He— oh, Eva? Did you say something?”

  “Didn't we decide that it was time for me to try living on my own?”

  “Well, yes—”

  “And shouldn’t that mean that it’s up to me to decide if I’m ready to date again or not?”

  “Of course,” Naomi said, “but I—”

  “I haven’t talked to Adam in years. Is there a reason why you’re suddenly throwing him at me now? If I wanted to go out on a date, I could. I’m happy, Mom, or at least I’m getting there. Where is this coming from?”

  Naomi let out a soft sigh. Evangeline, sensing victory, tightened her grip on her cell phone and waited.

  “I know, sweetie. It’s just… I worry about you. Me and your dad both do. It’s been a long, hard road, watching you recover yourself. You’ve started working again and you’ve moved out on your own. You’re moving on. And Fiona made it seem as if he was just waiting for you to get to this point before he tried reconnecting with you again. I thought Adam might be… oh, I don’t know. I’m sorry, Eva. I won’t mention it again. Promise.”

  Evangeline closed her eyes briefly.

  Oh. Her mother was good. Because, if her recovery had been hard on Evangeline, it was pure hell for her parents. She’d come so close to death—no one even really knew how she survived the crash as it was—and her parents seemed to blame themselves from the moment she woke up in the hospital. They were with her every step of the way, ready and willing to support her if she even looked like she might stumble.

  So maybe her mother was telling the truth. Maybe Naomi was just trying to be helpful. On the flip side, Evangeline would do just about anything to satisfy her mother.

  Even break a promise to her seventeen-year-old self.

  Screw it. What was one more date with Adam Wright?

  “Okay,” she said. She’d hate herself in the morning, but if it made her mother happy... “Okay. You know what, Mom? I’m free next week. If you think it’s a good idea, pass my new number on to Adam. We’ll see what happens then. Alright?”

  And maybe, if she was still drowning in guilt, she might actually answer the phone.

  But there was no way that Evangeline was going to let him into her pants—or, she knew with a certainty she couldn't explain, her heart.

  4

  Naomi worked quick.

  It hadn’t even been a half an hour after Evangeline finally got her mother off of the phone that it rang again.

  She stared at the screen, tempted to drop it in the toilet.

  Oops, sorry, Mom.

  Evangeline shook her head. No. It wouldn’t work. Hell, now that she knew for sure that Adam was a cop, she wouldn’t put it past her mother to send him over to check on her personally if she pointedly refused to answer this call.

  Might as well get it over with.

  She glanced at the screen again. The phone number was unfamiliar. She didn’t recognize it and wasn’t even a little surprised. The only contacts in her phone were her mother, her father, her primary care physician, and her boss. The area code was local, though.

  Evangeline grimaced, took a deep breath, then swiped to answer her phone.

  It was Adam.

  Of course it was.

  To her absolute surprise, the phone conversation was actually kind of nice. Although it had been years since the last time she spoke to Adam Wright, it wasn’t awkward at all. It was like falling into an old rhythm, his deep voice washing over her, asking her how she was doing, telling her about what he was up to. And if it was obvious that Naomi had coached him? Evangeline let it slide.

  He asked her about her new apartment, her new job, how many diamonds the local witch charged to create the wards for her. He pointedly avoided the topic of her accident, the memory lapse she suffered after the crash, or her long road to recovery. Adam was courteous, charming, and kind.

  By the time he smoothly steered the conversation toward getting dinner some time, Evangeline was the one who boldly said, “How about tomorrow?”

  She immediately regretted it. The words left a bad taste in her mouth, as if some part of her knew she shouldn’t be making a date with this man. She swallowed roughly, shrugging off her discomfort.

  Her mother was right. She deserved to be happy. Moving out to Grayson was only the first step toward a future she never thought she’d see again when she woke up in that hospital bed, the right side of her body nearly crushed and her poor memory full of holes.

  She remembered Adam, at least.

  It was a start.

  Another point in his favor? Adam Wright was punctual. She was just pulling a pair of black flats out of her shoe closet the next evening when her buzzer went off. Glancing at the clock on her mantle, she nodded in approval.

  Eight o’clock on the dot. Right on time.

  J
amming one foot into her flat, then the next, Evangeline hobbled over to her intercom button and pressed it. “Yes?”

  There was a crackle, and then: “Eva? Is that you?”

  Her finger slipped off the button. Eva. She wished he hadn’t used that name. If it was a choice between being called Evangeline or any shortened version of it, she’d always choose the full length of her name over being called Eva. Sure, her name was a mouthful, but Eva always made her think of some high-class chick with five-hundred-dollar shoes and a glass of white in her hand. She’d tried to go by Angie when she was younger—she definitely identified more as an Angie—but it had never stuck.

  She let her mother get away with calling her Eva because, well, that was her mom. Adam using it just felt weird. Then again, her stomach went queasy when she imagined his rich voice murmuring “Angie” through the intercom.

  He wasn’t supposed to do that, but hell if she could remember why.

  No. Evangeline shook her head, letting her long, dark hair settle over her shoulder. Tonight wasn’t going to be about the things she lost, the memories that had slipped away from her. It was about reconnecting, about new beginnings.

  She jabbed the button with her thumb. “Yes. It’s me. Adam?”

  “That’s right. Hey, look, I was gonna come on up and surprise you but your wards are crazy strong. I can’t get past the second floor of the building. Do you think you can remove them for me?”

  She rarely had visitors to her new apartment. She’d forgotten all about the wards. It was one of the two conditions her parents gave her before they felt comfortable letting her move out on her own again. Not only did they insist that she live in a predominantly human part of town, but her apartment had to be warded up the wazoo. If you weren’t a Lewis, you weren’t getting in unless Evangeline either let you in or had you coded to the wards.