Werewolf Wedding(57)

“I said get up, you get up.”

“Okay,” I said, shaking my head. “Okay, all right. I’m just half asleep. Do you need something?”

Dane shifted positions on the bed, so that his back was against my thigh where I was sitting on the edge of the bed. “My shoulder,” he said. “Right along my neck. I need you to rub it. It’s sore.”

“I, uh...”

“Now,” he growled. “Rub.”

I blinked again and yawned loudly. Without saying another word, I squeezed the massive trapezius muscle, running my hands long the line that separated it from the next muscle. He was groaning, moaning, and making all kinds of awful noises. As I rubbed and massaged and squeezed, the only thing I could think was how good it would feel to put this guy in his place. To give him what was coming to him.

It would feel so good to see him make a complete fool of himself and get thrown out of his own pack once and for all.

That is, if the plan worked.

Otherwise... I shuddered as I remembered the relish Dane had when he said “then I take his head” and a cold chill shot through me. Morning could not possibly come soon enough.

When the giant wolf started snoring, I slid out from underneath him and covered his body up so hopefully he’d keep right on snoozing. I wondered what Barney and Jeannie were doing... what Jake and George were doing.

“Sleeping, I’m sure,” I whispered. Just the sound of a voice that wasn’t Dane’s gave me a little comfort.

Of course, as tightly wound as I was, as panicky as I felt, I wasn’t the one who was going to die in four... three days now. I decided right then and there to stop doubting our crazy plan. If there’s only one chance for something to work, then... well, it just has to work.

*

“This is it?” Dane said, chuffing a laugh. “I thought you said you had a business, not a shack in a warehouse district. You’ll be taken care of. You won’t need to pretend to know how to run a business. Don’t worry.”

His graceful, uncaring misogyny had stopped being surprising, but it still pissed me off. I bit my lip to keep from saying anything that’d give away exactly how tenuous his grasp on me was. The plan’s going to work, I kept repeating inside my own head. It’s going to work and everything will be fine.

“This, yeah, Dane, this is it,” I said, turning the key in my old lock and taking a deep breath of the aroma of old plaster, paints, and dust from a thousand different kinds of stone that welcomed me home. That the lock turned far more easily than it normally did wasn’t lost on me. “This is where I made my living. Although, I guess that I won’t be doing much of that anymore.”

He didn’t catch the sadness in my voice, if he was even capable of catching sadness, or capable of anything resembling human emotion. “Nah,” was all he said, and then, “not any need for that. Pack money is big money,” a moment later.

“Anyway, back here is my stuff,” I grabbed his hand, leading him back to the studio part. I cast a longing gaze at Jeannie’s desk, remembering her easy jokes, her snarky sweetness and her undying loyalty. That, of course, made me think about the reason for all this – Jake and his damn brother.

In that flicker of a moment, I saw something that wasn’t supposed to be there. A letter? “Weird,” I said, reaching for it. “Must be a bill.”

Of course it wasn’t. And of course, I also knew without even looking, who it was from. But how had he gotten in? And why take the risk? He was well aware that I’d be bringing Dane here. Maybe he realized Dane would be so bloated with pride that he wouldn’t give the first shit about anything but himself.

The only response from my fiancé was a grunt and a laugh. I can’t wait to be rid of this jackass.

“Come on back, I’ll look at this later.” I slipped the note into the inside pocket on my jacket. The crinkle of the soft envelope thrilling against my skin, I took a deep breath. I could almost smell his sweat and his musk. I could almost feel his kiss on my neck, his fingers on my skin. But I had to put that feeling away. I had to bury the good feelings and embrace the bad ones.

I had to pretend, just for a little while longer, I told myself – just a couple days. That’s nothing to trade for a lifetime, right? That’s what I told myself anyway, and for a time at least it worked. I swallowed my pride, swallowed my emotions, and watched Dane strut – actually strut, in a way I haven’t seen outside professional wrestling shows – back to the studio.

On his way he kicked over some piled up magazines, and snatched a flowerpot that I’d made a few weeks before. “What a waste of space,” he said as he tossed it to the ground and watched it shatter. “All this crap built up everywhere. Humans are so ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” I said, giving no clue as to what it was, I thought, that was the waste of space. “We certainly are.”

The trip back to my studio was short and thankfully uncommented upon by Dane’s wit. As soon as I opened the door – which had been repaired; it used to stick when you slid it – I was surprised, but not really, to see that all of my makeshift tools had been replaced.

Holy shit, I had to force myself to keep quiet. A Roto-Mate 2000. I’ve wanted one of these lathes forever. And the fancy lathe was far from all. All of my chisels were new, there was a new chainsaw hanging from the back for my ice sculptures, and all my brushes, aprons, and smocks had been replaced.