Asanni (24 page)

“You’ve caused quite a stir, darling.” Liv
arched her eyebrows and smiled approvingly. “Jack, don’t be
jealous, you also look fabulous. Astrid, didn’t I tell you the
dress would be a smash hit?”

I sharply looked at Liv. “Don’t tell me
you’re behind all this.”

“Well, she was quite hesitant. ‘It’s too
short, I never wear red, it’s too tight’,” Liv mocked Astrid’s
voice. “Be honest, Jack, isn’t that the sexiest little dress you’ve
ever seen?”

“And now every single male in this room’s
trying to strip it down with the sheer power of their will,” I
said.

“Hey, relax, Jack! This little knockout’s all
yours, which makes you the most envied man in this room tonight,
you lucky son of a gun,” Tristan said and then turned to Astrid.
“Don’t listen to him, Princess. It’s a nice dress, you look
fantastic. Now Jack, let me introduce you to Poppy Frey, our
host.”

We briefly talked to the artist, whom Astrid
knew, and then moved around the room from one of her paintings to
another. Other people approached us and talked, and I was indeed
able to relax a bit: nobody had tried to steal my girl.

Sidetracked by that mind-blowing piece of red
fabric and her spectacular entry, it took me a while to notice that
Astrid had hardly uttered a word since our last exchange in the
car. I looked at her. She was pale and tense like a spring.

I bent my head until my lips touched her ear.
“Astrid, is everything okay?”

“I want to go home,” she said quietly. I
could hear a subtle tremor in her voice.

“Let’s go, then,” I said and took her hand.
“Are you feeling okay?”

“No.”

“What happened?” Liv was immediately beside
us, and I could see Tristan approaching us from the opposite side
of the room.

“I’m going home, or wherever you’ve decided I
should sleep tonight. Here is Poppy, let me say goodbye to
her.”

ASTRID WALKED beside me, still quiet. Outside
in the parking lot, I stopped and turned her toward me. “Astrid,
what’s going on?”

“I feel terrible for no reason. I like this
dress, and I like the fact that I had the guts to buy it. I never
had anything like this before. You made a whole issue out of a
little cocktail dress.”

Little cocktail dress, my ass. “I like your
dress, too. Now, baby, the problem is, I like it too much. I was
pissed off with all those men trying to imagine what was under it,”
I said.

“And I can say the same about every single
woman in the room. Well, except Liv,” Astrid snapped back. “They
were more than politely curious about what was under your suit.
They were taking your clothes off with their eyes. Like I wasn’t
even there. My dress might be a bit hot, but what about you? They
couldn’t take their eyes off you! I think you made yourself look
way too sexy for a simple town exhibition!”

For a long moment, I didn’t understand what
on earth she was trying to tell me, or why I suddenly felt guilty.
Another look at her face told me the reason. The same one that
forced me to react with rage and jealousy. She didn’t see the lusty
glances directed at her because she didn’t care. But she saw what
she’d cared about: the women who dared to look at her mate, openly
assessing him in front of her eyes.

“Astrid, you are a little bit jealous, aren’t
you?”

“Of course I am, and not a little bit! And
now I want to go home. If you think it’ll be hard to manage me in
my dress, you are welcome to have a sleepover at the Blakes’. Just
send Liv over to my house. And before we go, one more thing,” my
girl said and propped herself on her toes. She locked her arms
around my neck. “Stay still,” she ordered in her best no-nonsense
manner.

Her soft lips found mine. The tip of her
tongue brushed along my lips and then sucked them gently, breaching
gradually deeper and deeper. She tasted sweet and cool, like mint.
We stood still in the middle of the parking lot, under the soft
yellow light of the street lamp, kissing passionately. Her hands
ran through my hair, pulling me closer; mine traveled down her
back.

She suddenly pulled away and locked eyes with
me. “They are blue, aren’t they?” she said proudly. “And this kiss,
this is just to give you a taste of your own medicine. Now let’s go
home and watch a movie.”

I didn’t understand the logic behind her
reasoning, but sometimes it was hard to follow Astrid’s train of
thought.

I took off my jacket and offered it to her.
“Put it over your knees. Your scent’s driving me crazy. You are too
close and too naked-ish.”

She obeyed but rolled her eyes. Like always
when she did that, she suddenly looked like a teenager. “Don’t move
too much, please.” I continued to annoy her. “When we get there,
you go in first, take a shower and change into your oldest, biggest
and baggiest shirt and pants. I’ll wait in the car.”

Astrid giggled happily. “You just can’t
resist me, can you?”

I pulled up in front of her house and cut off
the engine. “You’ll pay for this, Astrid Mohegan, and with hefty
interest, I give you my word,” I said, laughing. “Now go, you have
ten minutes. If your wolf doesn’t pop out tonight, tomorrow we are
going to the cabin. It’s dangerous to keep you here any
longer.”

“You bet. I might quite spontaneously decide
to stalk that blond bimbo who tried to strip you naked with her
eyes, and rip her throat with my nice, sharp canine teeth,” she
said and left the car.

I watched her from behind. She was a hell of
a girl. Long, beautiful legs, nice round bottom, straight back,
long, silky honey-reddish hair, razor-sharp mind, nice round
bottom—did I say that already—sophisticated, lusty, elegant,
hearty, sexual and sensual.

And all mine.

THE APPETIZING smell of smoked meat and fresh
salad vegetables indicated Jack was taking care of their late
dinner.

“What do you want to watch?” Astrid said as
she emerged from the bathroom in her fluffy peach robe. Her hair
was wrapped in a towel and her feet tucked into a pair of fuzzy
pale-green Star Wars Yoda slippers.

She leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed
on her chest.

Jack’s eyes took in the two egg-shaped heads
with ears sticking out and tufts of fluffy white hair. “I’ve never
known anybody who keeps her feet warm with the power of The
Force.”

He sighed. Master Yoda slippers and all, she
was still as sexy as hell. “Sweetie, you do have your pajamas on
under the bathrobe, don’t you now?”

Astrid opened her bathrobe. Underneath it,
she wore an oversized sleep shirt with a big picture of another
movie character—a smiling Buzz Lightyear with his famous words
printed above his head as a not-quite-accurate formula:

2 ∞ & >!

Jack gave her a crooked smile. “The ‘beyond’
symbol should be the other way around.”

“I know, but that’s what makes my shirt
special. It’s a sort of limited edition. A batch or two hit the
stores before it was noticed. They recalled it quickly, but I’d
already bought one,” Astrid explained as she stepped into the
kitchen and hugged Jack from behind. He’d changed into a simple red
T-shirt and jeans, but to her he looked equally as stunning as in
his smart black suit a few minutes ago.

“Can I help?” she asked.

Jack turned to her and gently pushed her
away. “That’s not helping me. What’s gotten into you tonight,
woman?” He smiled and kissed her nose. “That’s all you’re going to
get. No more kissing.”

“What are you making?” Astrid asked and
peeked behind Jack’s back.

“Montreal steak sandwich and salad. Astrid,
you don’t have food allergies, right?”

“No.”

“Good. You and Master Yoda go pick a movie,
and I’ll take a shower before we start. Get out of my kitchen,” he
laughed and pushed her out.

A SELECTION of Blu-rays lay on the table,
with Kurosawa’s
Seven Samurai
and
Rashomon
on
top.

“Interesting choice,” Jack said, “but I’m not
surprised. I didn’t expect you to pick a romantic comedy.”

“Oh, but I love them.
Four Weddings and a
Funeral, Bridget Jones
and such, for example. You know that I
have a big crush on Hugh Grant.”

“Honey, you
had
a crush. You’re
reformed,” Jack explained patiently. “Not that I’m jealous of your
former virtual boyfriends, but I suggest you do not push that
button. So, unless you had a crush on Toshiro Mifune,
Seven
Samurai
it is. Out of curiosity, what else did you pull
out?”

Jack browsed through the pile of Blu-ray
cases sitting on the table. “
Amadeus
, of course;
Immortal
Beloved
with Gary Oldman,
Dracula
with Gary Oldman…”

“Another of my crushes. Former.”

“You will teach me how to roll my eyes.
The Last of the Mohicans
, and the
timeless
Day-Lewis.”

Astrid fluttered her eyelashes and let out a
long, sensual sigh.

Jack laughed. “Nice try, but you’re not going
to make me jealous.” He took another movie from the stack. “What
else do we have here?
House of Flying Daggers
. I bet you
find Takeshi Kaneshiro handsome.”

“I didn’t say anything, but I couldn’t agree
more.”

“He might even be good looking, but he’s
young, and you like them older, so I’m not worried.”

“He’s not
that
young.”

“He definitely is. Am I going to have to hear
about your cinema lovers all night?”

“Shall we start, then?
Seven Samurai
?”
she asked.

“Okay, but let me tell you first about my
favorite movies and stars.”

Astrid shut her eyes, covered her ears and
stuck out her tongue at Jack.

“HERE’S YOUR sandwich and salad,” Jack said a
little bit later, after he put
Seven Samurai
into the
player. He placed a tray with a plate, bowl and glass of water onto
Astrid’s lap.

The sandwich was delicious. The smoked meat
was tender and salty, bread fresh and crispy, tomato juicy… a
little bit of heaven on a plate. Half-done with the sandwich, she
turned her attention to the salad.

“Garlic!!! You’ve put raw garlic into the
dressing!” she exclaimed but continued to eat.

“Drastic times require drastic measures,”
Jack said. “That’s for my personal protection. If you eat garlic,
you’ll have stinky breath and it’ll stop you thinking about kissing
me. I’ll be safe.”

Astrid laughed. “That was low, Jack Cahagan.
Don’t tell me I’m a serious threat to your virtue,” she said and
picked up another forkful.

“After my recent experience with your dress
and your attack in the parking lot, I thought I’d better come up
with some protection. I still see the swirls of red in front of my
eyes.”

“Aren’t you eating the salad, too?”

“Ha, I’m smarter than that! If I ate it, I’d
also smell it, and what’s the point then? This way I’m sure you
won’t come close to me,” Jack said and concentrated on his plate
with the sandwich. He’d almost finished it before he went to the
kitchen and came back with a bowl of salad for himself. “Promise to
be a good girl?

“Promise.”

“No more throwing your irresistible self at
me?”

“No more.”

“Okay, let’s enjoy the movie. Astrid,” he
paused, then added, “I think we should go to the cabin tomorrow
night or Thursday morning. Is that okay?”

“I suggest packing a lot of garlic. I’m okay,
but you’ll be dealing with my wolf. She’s a loose cannon, and all
yours.”

“Leave her to me, and you stop talking now.
Here comes your boyfriend.”

I WOKE up the next morning feverish and
tired. I could have blamed it on staying up late the previous
night, but I knew better. It was three days before my change and my
symptoms were picking up.

I stretched in my bed and forced myself to
open my eyes. I could hear Jack in the kitchen. I smelled coffee
and pancakes. My stomach rumbled. I was hungry—another symptom of
my upcoming change. Shape shifting required lots of energy and I
always had an incredible appetite before and after the
transformation. I ate in my wolf form too—raw meat, of course. I
apparently liked it, but I didn’t remember that part, so I took
Liv’s word for it.

My hand reached for the black leather jacket
seized from its owner a week ago, and I buried my head into it.
Although milder, Jack’s scent was still there. I breathed it in
deeply and decided to ask him to wear it for a while and then give
it back to me.

I SMILED thinking about last night.

Forced by a lingering taste of garlic in my
mouth that two vigorous tooth brushings plus a mouthwash still
couldn’t neutralize, I’d decided to keep my promise, and curled up
in my corner. We’d watched
Seven Samurai
in a comfortable
silence, simply enjoying being together.

Later we’d talked about the film industry and
our favorite movies. Jack had admitted to being fond of westerns
and Sci Fi, and he was glad to hear that some of my best-loved
movies belonged to those two genres. I’d stopped teasing him about
my celluloid crushes and let him tell me about his favorite
movies.

From there we moved to music, from music to
books, from books to fine art. “Your hair’s turning red, like in
those Renaissance paintings we both seem to like very much, by the
way,” he’d said, tucking a lock behind my ear. “I love it.” We had
continued talking about painters and paintings and museums and art
galleries we had visited.

He had an incredible grasp of politics,
philosophy, law, science... I’d probed him in almost every field a
man who pretended to have my heart had to be knowledgeable about.
He never failed. Not once. And he’d been gentleman enough not to
ask me about the NFL or the maximum speed of the Nuclear Powered
Aircraft Carrier USS Enterprise.