Emmitt's Treasure: Judgement of the Six Companion Series, book 2 (11 page)

“It might if she could actually train you.”

“If I made it too easy, she’d get bored and pick someone else.  Nah, I’m good for her.”

“You think you’re good for everyone.”

When we pulled into the gravel lot, Winifred’s car was the only one there.  On the beach, the boys ran around while Winifred watched them.  Michelle was already lying on a blanket in the sun.  She wore a tank top, cotton shorts, and a large hat that covered most of her face and shaded her eyes so I couldn’t see if she was awake or sleeping.

“Ah, too bad,” Jim said.  “Still no bikini sighting.”

That did disappoint me a little.  But knowing I’d get to spend the whole day with her made up for it.  However, she didn’t move at the sound of the truck or when we slammed the doors shut.

Jim pulled one cooler from the back, and I took the other.  The boys cheered when they caught sight of us.  I smiled and called them over for something to drink.  My gaze drifted over to Michelle as I set the cooler down.  She’d pulled up a section of her top, exposing her stomach to the early morning sun.  That bare strip of skin tempted me.

“Emmitt,” Liam said, calling my name a second time as he tugged at my hand.

“Sorry, buddy.  What did you say?”

“What kind of drink did you get us?”

I gave them each a juice box.  Jim stole one, too, and the three of them wandered to the shoreline.  I glanced back at Michelle.  Still nothing.  Her chest continued to rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm.

“Let her sleep,” Winifred said from beside her.

I nodded and joined the other three at the water.  It was too cold for swimming so we built sandcastles and moats for a while.  Sweat started to shine on their pink little faces by the time we finished, and the cold water didn’t seem so cold anymore.

Their splash into the water woke Michelle enough that she looked up.  Then she went right back to her nap.

I was feeling attention starved.  Deciding I’d waited long enough, I went to the cooler and grabbed a bottle of water.  I opened it and took a long drink, eyeing Michelle as I did so.  She probably needed water, too.  The idea of sharing the same bottle, our lips touching the same space almost like a kiss, set a heavy beat in my chest.  Winifred didn’t say anything as I moved to stand beside Michelle.

While I was trying to decide how to wake her, some of the water from the cold bottle dripped onto her stomach.  She made the cutest squealing sound and sat up.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to smother my insincere grin.  I offered her the water.  “Your head will start hurting again.  Drink up.”

She took the bottle and eyed it for a second before arching a brow at me.  She knew I’d had some.  Would she care?  I shrugged and waited to see what she’s do.  She uncapped it and took several swallows.

No fear.  Just her sweet pancake and syrup scent, getting stronger by the second.

It just made my need to be near her worse.

When she handed me the bottle, I settled on the edge of blanket, crowding her.

“Just like your father,” Winifred mumbled as she stood and went to inspect the finished castles.

Michelle remained where she was, eyeing me.  Still not trusting me.  I needed more answers.

“About last night,” I said.

“Don’t want to talk about it.”  She moved over and went to lay in Winifred’s spot.

I moved fast, shifting positions in a blur so she’d be using me as a pillow.  When her head touched my stomach, she sat back up and gave me a startled look.

“How did you move—”  She shook her head, not finishing her question.

She was clamming up.  Something she did all too well.  I needed her to talk.

“I thought after showing you what I am, you’d have more questions for me.  Other than if you could wear my shirt.”

She blushed and tipped the hat to try to hide her face.  “Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

It hurt a little that she didn’t want to know anything about me.  I could understand not asking about the fur, but what about other stuff?  My interests.  My hobbies.  The same things I really wanted to know about her, like her favorite color.  Maybe I just needed to keep it simple and light.

“Green,” I said randomly.

She glanced at me.  “What?”

“It’s my favorite color.  What’s yours?”

“If I tell you, will you let me lay down again?”

I grinned, knowing she’d talk.

“I don’t know that I have one.  I like looking at the sky, though, so maybe blue.”

Had she been so locked away that she’d often looked at the sky and wished for freedom?  That made me a little sad for her and made my need for answers grow stronger.  She talked when her guard was down.  Alcohol worked, but I wouldn’t be using that again.  As I studied her tired profile, I had another idea.  Grinning, I moved over on the blanket and gave her space to lay back down.  Maybe I could get something out of her if she was almost asleep.

She took the bait and lay down after a few more swallows of water.  Minutes passed.  Her breathing slowed, and her expression relaxed.  I couldn’t stop watching her.  What made her so perfect?

“What kind of music do you like?” I asked quietly.

“I don’t remember.”  The quiet words escaped on an exhale.  She was so close to sleeping.

“Why not?”  I kept my tone light.

“Blake hated the noise.”

Blake again.  Her leg twitched, and I knew I was losing her to a deeper sleep.  Reaching out, I gently ran my fingers through her hair.

“Who’s Blake?” I asked.

She didn’t wake enough to answer.

After several minutes, I stood and joined Winifred as she watched Jim play with the kids in the shallows.

“Try not to obsess over it,” she said.

“What part?  That she was kept prisoner by someone?  That what she went through made it difficult for her to trust me?  Or that there are people from her past still trying to find her, and I can do nothing about it because she won’t confide in me?”

“All of it.”  Winifred turned to study me.  “Be patient with her.  She needs time to heal from whatever happened to her.  And, she will heal, Emmitt.  When she does, she’ll remember your patience.”

“I hope you’re right.  I just hate hearing a name and not knowing who it is.”

“You said she mentioned a stepfather passing away.  Perhaps that was his name.”

For the next hour, Jim and I played with the boys while Winifred went back to keep an eye on Michelle.  I knew the moment she woke.  She sat up and looked around in confusion.  Patience, I reminded myself as I kept my focus on Liam.

“How long was I out?”

Despite the distance, I could hear her clearly as she spoke to Winifred.

“About an hour.  Almost time for lunch.”

“Let’s try something different,” I said to Liam.  “I’ll teach you guys a way to splash Jim with more water.”  Using my clasped hands, I spun a slow circle in the water to show them.  The turn also gave me a chance to watch Michelle.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said softly.  “Do I have a scent?”

“Everyone does, dear.  As unique as a fingerprint.”

“Why would a werewolf want to scent me?”

What?  I whipped my head her direction.  Our gazes met and held.

Why would she ask that?
I sent Winifred.
  I’ve never—

Emmitt, focus on what you’re doing.  You’re making her uncomfortable.

Jim chose that moment to send a wave of water my way.  It hit me in the side of the head, filling my ear.  The boys giggled loudly.

I didn’t care what Winifred said, I needed to understand what Michelle was asking.  Was it when I’d stopped her from leaving?  How would she have known I was scenting her?  We’d never discussed that.

Michelle blushed and dropped her gaze, and Winifred gave me a warning scowl before responding to her.

“I’d be happy to answer that question, but I need to explain more than that for you to understand.  If you’re willing.”

Liam tugged on my arm.

“Aren’t you going to get Jim back?”

“I think Emmitt needs to walk a little deeper into the cold water,” Jim said.

I turned away from Michelle to give Jim a discreet gesture of brotherly affection while still paying attention to what Winifred said next.

“Emmitt shared with me that he showed you who we are.  People use the term werewolf, but we are more than a shapeshifting creature of the night.  We are the opposite of a person with multiple personalities.  We are one personality with two bodies.  Who we are doesn’t change, no matter the form we choose.  However, there are benefits to each form we wear.  We are faster on four legs than two, but not by much.  When in our fur, we have better protection because of our teeth and claws.  Yet, some things, like our sense of smell, hearing, and sight, don’t change.

“Our sense of smell is more vital to us than our sight.  We can smell an object long after it has disappeared.  A scent can tell us more than we could ever see.  Emotions like fear and desire can flavor a person’s usual fragrance.  Through our senses, we read the world and react to it.

“Scenting is when we use our sense of smell to identify potential Mates.  Their scent calls to us.  It’s more than just liking the fragrance.  It’s the rightness of it.”  Winifred paused for a moment.  “I’ve never had to explain this to someone who didn’t have our noses.  So let me know if I’m not making sense.”

Tell her she smells like warm pancakes,
I sent to Winifred
.

I will not.  Mind your business.

Jim sent another giant wave of water our way.  I shook my head and continued to listen while I helped Liam return the favor.

“I like the smell of strawberries, but I wouldn’t want my clothes to smell like them.  It’s a good smell, but not right for clothes.  It’s the same for finding potential Mates.  Although my scent may be pleasant to several of my kind, it might not be just right for any of them.  Because of the nuance between an alluring scent and the rightness of that perfect scent, nature threw in a backup plan.  It’s something we feel deep inside ourselves, like a tug in our stomach, reeling us toward the one we’re meant to be with.  The scent calls us, possibly from a greater distance than we can see, but the pull cinches the deal.”

Winifred paused for a moment, and I was about to look up when Winifred communicated with me.

By the scent of her panic and her quick look in your direction, I would say she feels a strong pull for you.

I agree, but, I don’t want her to bolt because she thinks she has no choice.

You want me to lie?

Of course not.  I just wish you would have...I don’t know...softened the truth a bit.

“It’s a lot to take in, but nothing to worry about.  With humans, we werewolves typically don’t feel or scent anything that would indicate we’re compatible with you.  Oh, a few have tried to have relationships, but they were shallow connections that never lasted long.”

Not what I meant. 
I sent her a look that might have earned me a smack upside my head in my younger years.

Winifred ignored me and handed Michelle another bottle of water.

“Would you like me to tell you more about our kind?”

Michelle nodded hesitantly, and Winifred explained our history and how Mom had helped unite the small packs.

“Charlene put the backbone back in our pack and brought us together by sheer determination.  It’s because of her plans for pack growth that I am here with Emmitt and Jim.  We are trying to establish another pack location because the main one in Canada is growing too large for the space.

“Our society is like any other in that we each have a place in it.  Elders are the keepers of knowledge and peace.  Pack leaders keep the peace within their own pack, but Elders keep the peace between packs.”

Winifred’s explanation caused me a brief moment of guilt.  She made it sound like there were many packs.  There weren’t.  Not really.  There were still secluded families of three or four members who considered themselves a pack, but there weren’t packs like my father’s or like what my parents wanted me to start here.  A large pack made up of many families gave the members a kind of strength and security in the human community that the smaller packs would never have.

People were depending on me to step up, and I wasn’t.

“Cut it out,” Jim said so only I would hear.  “Guilt’s meant for troublemakers like me, not poster boys like you.”

I didn’t respond as Winifred continued.

“Almost all werewolves belong to a pack.  However, some werewolves choose to live on their own.  Those we call Forlorn.  They can still hear the Elders and have the same compulsion to obey, but they follow no pack leader.”

“So Emmitt’s mom is the pack leader?” Michelle asked.

That made me smile.  Mom would have laughed.

“Technically, no.  Emmitt’s father is the leader.  But, Charlene influences the pack in her own right.”

Michelle was quiet for a moment.