Werewolf Wedding(9)

“You’re not a doctor,” he said. His voice was smooth, even and slightly delicious. Jake’s had more of a gravelly touch to it, but this new guy – who was also really damn big, come to think of it – was sharper, more intense. This wasn’t the sort of person who makes jokes unless they’re really pointed ones.

“That’s true,” I said, not really sure what that was supposed to mean. “I’m... confused as all hell. Who are you and why do you care if I make a statue of someone? Seems kind of strange to get all worked up about someone else’s commission.”

The stranger, whose name I still didn’t know, narrowed his eyes in a vaguely threatening manner. “Who I am doesn’t matter,” he growled. “Just know that I’m dangerous. Very, very dangerous. Don’t make that statue, and if you know what’s good for you, forget about my brother, too. He’s trouble.”

When I get uncomfortable, I laugh. I started laughing. “Your brother? Is this some kind of joke?”

He’s not the kind to make jokes, I thought.

“I don’t joke,” he said. “Especially about serious matters. My brother isn’t worth your time. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“Well sure,” I said, “I can guess. I just don’t understand, if he’s your brother, then—”

With so much speed that I hardly saw him move, even though he crossed the entire studio, the stranger had one hand on the back of my neck and the other over my mouth. Heat emanated from him, just like it had from Jake. “No games,” he hissed, dangerously into my ear. It was a little excited, I’m ashamed to admit, but at that moment, all I wanted was for him to get the hell off me. I struggled a little, but he held me tight.

“When my brother comes back, you’ll tell him you changed your mind. Make something up. Tell him you don’t have time, or you have other things to do, or...” he closed his eyes. “I don’t care. Just make something up.”

I nodded, just to get him off me. That tinge of excitement had turned sour – really sour. I felt a gurgle in my stomach as the heat. “Okay,” I squeaked.

He let go and immediately I felt blood rush to my head. My thoughts swam around in my skull, confusion mixed with anger mixed with fear. “But why?” I finally gathered myself enough to ask. “Why does it matter? And if you’re going to come in here and manhandle me, you can at least tell me your name.”

“It matters,” he was still hissing, “because if you don’t do what I said, I’ll ruin you. Do I seem like I’m playing?”

“I... no,” I said, swallowing hard. “Not at all.”

“Good. Because I’m not. He can’t be allowed to do what he wants to do. I’m the rightful heir, and when I take you for mine, you’ll be rich beyond your wildest dreams. You’ll be pampered, cared for, but,” he turned his eyes back to me, narrowing them again. “If you cross me, you’ll wish you were dead.”

I couldn’t respond, even if I wanted. My nerves were all shot, my brain surged. It wasn’t until he was gone that I realized what he had said. When reality struck, it sent a shiver crawling down my spine.

The front door slammed shut, metal rattling hard against metal. “Did he just say that he was going to take me and make me his?” I asked Jeannie, who had her mouth opened even wider than she did when I broke the statue.

She just nodded, and then clapped her mouth shut. “I think... uh,” she had started shaking her head. “I think I’m real glad I’m not you right now. But then again... damn girl,” she said in a distant voice. “You’re caught in a feud between the two hottest guys I’ve ever seen. Maybe it is worth it. I’m gonna... go do a crossword.”

Jeannie left without waiting for a response. I gulped again, and kicked at a hunk of plaster that was right beside my toe. On the one hand, I was terrified.

On the other?

Shit, she was kinda right.





-5-


“This is just all too much.”





-Delilah


––––––––

Wednesday came and went without word one from Jake. As I was leaving my studio to head home, I had just gotten to my old Cadillac – which I absolutely do not drive for the prestige or the luxury as it was born before I was – and had to get the stupid thing going. For most cars, that would involve just putting a key in the ignition and turning it, right?

Oh but if you know anything about me, and I hope you do by now, you know that nothing in my life is ever as simple as it seems. Twenty-five thousand dollar doggie statues, being caught between growly, warring brothers; those are nothing compared to getting this eight ton wad of metal going when it’s cold.

Holy shit it’s cold, I kept thinking. I’m not built for this.

You’d think that with the extra padding I seemed to carry eternally on my ass, cold wouldn’t bother me quite as much as it does. As soon as the thermometer dips below, say, sixty-five? I’m an icicle. I shiver, I quake, and God help you if you’re sleeping with me, because my hands and feet are going to be in the warmest places on your body, sucking the heat out like a thermal vampire.

I’m relentless in my search for body heat, which is probably why the way Jake’s fingers, his lips on my wrist, fascinated me so much.