Werewolf Wedding(45)

“Ow!” I squealed. “I don’t know, just some family photos of all of you guys together doing family things. She didn’t tell me anything, we just talked about enchiladas and how I make ice sculptures!”

Which was partially true, I suppose, if you left out all of the other things we talked about. The whole time it was in the back of my mind that he had no idea that I wasn’t completely under his control. So, naturally, he just assumed everything that came out of my mouth was the truth.

He grunted softly, and went back to physically examining me. Neck, hairline, inside my cheeks, while everyone around looked on with increasing discomfort. One or two of them – it was hard to tell how many exactly from the way he had me locked down – were starting to move toward us. I wondered if we were going to become a big scene right there in the middle of family dinner.

“Can, uh... can we stop?” I asked in the softest voice I possibly could use. “It hurts.”

I must’ve hit exactly the right note between deference and begging. He released my wrist, drawing his hand back dramatically, like he just touched the side of a hot Dutch oven and recoiled in pain.

“Sorry,” I murmured bashfully, making sure this big, strong man knew he was in complete control of hapless little Delilah. Shooting a glance at Greta, I caught her watching me. She flashed another almost imperceptible smile and went back to the kitchen. “Dane?” I made him face me with a little pleading in my voice. I was just about on the cusp of making myself sick from turning into the female movie archetype I hate the most, but when he looked down at me, completely and totally fooled, it was all worth it.

I took his hand and tugged him toward the door. “You’re so strong,” I said, hoping I wasn’t laying it on too thick. Although with this guy, I’m almost certain that no amount of slathered on ass-kissing or false deference would ever be too much, just like mayonnaise on a chicken sandwich. “I can’t believe I have you to take care of me.”

He looked around with such aplomb and swagger that I could smell the Axe Body Spray wafting off his muscled frame, and from his sure of himself smile, I thought he might be trying out for a cosmetic dentist commercial.

There it was again, I thought. The same tic that he acquired when his stepmother had intimidated him – the little twitch in the corner of his mouth that made his cheek jumps lightly, there it was again. And then again as he looked at me, there it was. He couldn’t stand what was happening. The fact that he’d lost control of himself, that he’d showed emotion that was something other than John Wayne bullshit... he couldn’t handle it. Or maybe it was that as soon as he was no longer making a big, loud, violent scene, everyone just kind of stopped paying any attention to him?

I’ve known a thousand people like Dane, who seem like the biggest bad ass on the planet, but as soon as they have to face some uncomfortable reality or another one, they immediately lose the ability to do anything except either get unreasonably angry, or make callous jokes.

“What are all you slack-jawed hicks staring at?” he began, much louder than necessary. “Never seen how a real man handles himself?”

I could have rolled my eyes so hard they would pop out the back of my head and keep right on going. Instead, I kept my composure for the sake of staying alive and keeping my friends safe instead of indulging in my favorite hobby of sarcasm. “They just don’t know, Dane,” I said, trying to keep my snacks from earlier in my stomach instead of on the carpet.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding smugly as you please. “Everyone that does know already left. The rest of you sheep,” he paused, looking around. “I’d rather not have you on my side when it all comes down.”

Creepy Charlie Manson vibes notwithstanding, I could see how the weaker-minded of his cousins or... whatever they were, would fall for him. Dane had a powerful way of speaking, a booming voice, and that attitude that just screamed that he didn’t give a shit – how could he, since he was always right?

Of course, I knew his tells, I knew better than to think he believed his own bullshit. Or at least, I knew better than to think he bought all of his own bullshit. I’m sure he was definitely feeling himself on most of it. Greta was watching through the small service window between the kitchen and formal dining room, rolling the hem of her sweater back and forth between her thumb and forefinger so hard I was surprised the fabric hadn’t frayed.

As I was watching her, Dane snatched my wrist again, yanking me toward the door. “Come on, girl,” he hissed. “We got better folks to deal with than these ignorant hobos.”

I didn’t quite understand what that was supposed to mean, and from the looks on everyone else’s face, neither did they. Once we were back on his obnoxious motorcycle, I plucked a helmet off the back seat’s post, which he immediately knocked out of my hands. “You don’t have any brains anyway,” he sneered. “What the hell good is that gonna do you? Keep you pretty, I guess.”

I nodded and just sat, wondering what was going to happen next. I didn’t have to wait long. I began to recognize the turns we were taking and the overpass exits he chose. “We’re going to Jake?” I asked.

“What better way to announce our mating, and my idiot brother’s complete and utter subjugation than by sending his ex-girlfriend to tell him the good news?”

I was chewing my lip so hard I thought it might bleed. The only good news, I thought, but dare not say, is that I’ll get to see Jake. He’ll know what to do.