How to Flirt with A Naked Werewolf (24 page)

“Cooper, get away!” I shouted, flipping the cap off the bear mace and preparing to spray the strange wolf as soon as Cooper was clear. I took a swinging kick at the red wolf’s side. “Get the hell off of him, you big, furry motherfu—”

The wolf dodged at the last minute, and the toe of my boot just barely caught its rib cage. The strange wolf yelped. I pressed the trigger, and a long stream of chemical spray came shooting out of the canister, right into the wolf’s eyes. I coughed as traces of the burning liquid roiled through the air. Cooper rolled away and phased onto his very human feet. He knocked the mace canister out of my hand.

“What are you doing?”

“He was hurting you!” I cried. “I was trying to help.”

“I wasn’t hurt,” he insisted. “That’s just how we say hello.”

“What?”

Behind me, a loud, gruff voice boomed. “Ahh! What the hell did you spray me with?”

Cooper ran toward the house. I turned to see a large naked man standing in my yard. You’d think at this point I’d be used to it, but no, not so much. The stranger was built like a professional wrestler, gone slightly soft around the middle. Huge biceps, a broad chest, thigh muscles the size of my head. His dark hair, which had a slight auburn tint to it, fell stick-straight into his eyes. Or it would have, if his eyes hadn’t been clenched shut against the burn of bear mace.

Cooper came jogging back with my hose in his hands. Apparently, he’d run into the utility room to grab it and had hooked it up to the heavily insulated outside spigot. “Come on, Sam. It will feel better in a few minutes.”

“She fucking maced me, Coop!”

I gasped. “I am so sorry. I thought you were a real wolf, not a werewolf. I thought you were hurting Cooper and—”

“You came running to rescue me from the big, bad wolf,” Cooper said sternly as a shivering, cursing Samson held his head under the running hose. “Despite the fact that I told you to stay in the house.”

“Oh, yes, because I’m so good at following directions. That should be no surprise to you,” I snapped back.

Samson straightened, blinking owlishly. The angry red color seemed to be fading from his skin and eyes. “If I didn’t heal so quickly, I’d be wicked pissed about this, cuz.”

“Mo, this is my idiot cousin Samson. Samson, this is Mo.”

Samson seemed distracted for the moment from whatever errand had brought him to our door . . . and burning agony. He smirked at me. “I wondered why Coop’s scent was so faint at his place but reeks out here. Now I see why. Of course, I could be going blind, so who knows?”

“I’m so sorry.” I carefully extended my hand, keeping my eyes trained on Samson’s. But some bizarre eye twitch kept leading my line of sight southward. Through the haze of embarrassment, I wondered if the heroic proportions in Cooper’s family were a hereditary thing or a wolf thing. “Um, would you like to come inside?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have time. Cooper, your mom sent me for you. It’s Pops. They think he’s had a heart attack or a stroke or something.”

“What?” Cooper sat heavily on the ground, the wind and the color clearly knocked out of him.

“Dr. Moder said he didn’t have an ‘acute episode.’ He just seemed disoriented for a little bit, couldn’t remember who we were or where he was. He’s stable for right now, but he needs an EKG and a bunch of tests. He won’t let us move him from the village clinic. The doc says she’ll stay with him the whole time and cover up any questions, but he’s afraid people at the hospital will be able to tell he’s a wolf. Your mom thinks maybe if you told him to go, he would go. We tried calling, but you didn’t pick up at home. And you always ignore our voice mails.”

Cooper shook his head. “Me being there, it’s just going to stir things up, stress him out, make him worse.”

“How could you say that?” Samson demanded. “I figured all I would have to tell you was ‘Pops is sick,’ and you’d come running. I never thought I’d have to talk you into going, even if you haven’t been back in years. It’s bad, Cooper. I’ve never seen him like this. You need to be there. I don’t give a shit what Maggie has to say about it! You’re going, even if I have to drag you back myself.” Cooper shot him a dark, meaningful look. Samson grinned and looked chastened. “Well, I would try.”

I noticed that as Samson got more agitated, Cooper had stepped between me and his gargantuan cousin. I’d been entirely too relaxed around Samson, assuming that because one werewolf was friendly, they all would be. I picked up the can of bear mace and clutched it just a little tighter.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked quietly as Samson gave his face one last thorough rinse. “I don’t like the idea of you visiting people who bite off random body parts. I like your parts right where they are.”

“I need to see my grandfather, Mo. And I need to talk to Eli, ask him a few questions. I’ve needed to tell him about what’s been happening here, to warn him about the people here wanting to hunt down wolves. I’ve put it off for too long.”

“Fine, I’ll drive,” I offered.

Cooper’s eyes narrowed at me. It seemed that both of us were unsure about whether this was a good plan. I knew I had reason to be nervous, heading into a den of his relatives, when there was a possibility that one of them was stalking my neighborhood like a furry Freddy Krueger. Maybe I would see something helpful while we were there, something that could clear the werewolf pack and defuse my moral quandary . . . or maybe a signed confession I could hand over to Alan. OK, that last thing was unlikely, but there was no way I was letting Cooper go alone, especially with Maggie already stressed by her grandfather’s illness. Someone had to drive
him
to the hospital if she took off more of his fingertips.

Samson grimaced and for the first time seemed a little unfriendly. “It’s faster if we run.”

“But you haven’t had a chance to rest from your run here. Besides, I did mace you. It’s the least I can do.”

“Mo, you seem nice and all, but I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

Stepping around Cooper, I got as close to eye level with Samson as I could and used Cooper’s “brook no opposition” voice. “Samson, I’m going with you. Don’t waste time trying to tell me otherwise. Now, get your ass in Cooper’s truck, or we leave without you.”

Samson peered over my shoulder and grinned weakly at his cousin. “I like her.”

“Me, too,” Cooper said, his tone a little bleak as we walked back to the house to grab some clothes.

“Samson, can I get you a blanket or something?” Cooper asked, sending a pointed look in my direction as he pulled on a pair of jeans.

“Why cover up perfection?” Samson asked, winking at me. Now that Cooper had agreed to go home, he seemed to be sliding back into his natural persona—which apparently was “flirtatious goof-ball.”

I countered, “Well, I don’t allow bare ass cheeks on my upholstery, so if you plan on sitting down, I’m afraid I’m going to have to deprive myself of your glory.”

“I really like her,” Samson told Cooper as he shrugged into sweats and a sweater that were at least two sizes too small.

“Me, too,” Cooper said, sighing as if affection for me was some sort of affliction.

The two-hour drive to the Crescent Valley was strained at best. The three of us barely fit into the cab of the truck. Samson was fidgety, insisting that they’d be there already if they’d run. Cooper tried to ask questions about his grandfather but came off sounding like a general asking for a briefing before heading into battle. Samson’s answers weren’t terribly helpful, since he seemed to have run for Cooper’s place on instinct without first concerning himself with details.

“How’s Mom doing?” Cooper finally asked.

“Worried. She’s been at the clinic with Pops for hours,” Samson said. “She’ll be glad to see you. She worries about you, you know. She said you were too skinny the last time she visited. I’m surprised she didn’t try to strap a ham on my back when I left.”

“What about Maggie?” Cooper asked.

Samson rolled his eyes. “You know her. She’ll never change. But she’s pretty shaken up. I don’t think she’ll be together enough to go for your kneecaps again.”

I gasped. “You said it was your fingertips and an ear.”

“And kneecaps,” Cooper muttered.

“And the eyelids, both ass cheeks, and that time she got hold of your throat,” Samson reminded him cheerfully. “That was the time he tried to tell her that she had to leave the valley and go to college. I believe the edited-for-TV version of her response was something like ‘Fudge you, you’re not my gosh-darn alpha anymore. You don’t tell me to leave the fudging pack. Now, get the fudge away from me before I rip your—’ What? It was funny at the time.”

“And y’all just stand around watching while she tries to dismember him?” I scowled at Samson.

Samson shrugged. “Coop won’t let us help him.”

“I thought that the alpha was supposed to be all-powerful. Why can’t Cooper command her to stop biting off his body parts?”

“Because he won’t,” Samson said, glaring at him. Cooper stared at the road. “He just stands there and takes it, which is like giving her permission. If anyone else tried it, instinct would stop them from striking at the alpha, active or not. But Maggie basically has an open invitation.”

Cooper glared out the window. Samson seemed to get even more ADD when it was quiet, so I asked him about growing up with Cooper. Every time he started a story, Cooper glared at him, and Samson stopped talking. So he turned the tables and asked where I was from, why I’d moved so far from home. I gave them a brief, none-too-sanitized version of my childhood with Ash and Saffron.

I’m pretty sure Cooper thought I was making it up to make him feel better. Unfortunately, you can’t make up your dad getting popped for disorderly conduct at a Raffi concert. Ash believed “Baby Beluga” anesthetized children to the horrors of whaling. And hopped onstage during the encore to say so.

“Suddenly, so much about your personality makes sense,” Cooper said, wiping at his eyes as we drove past a sign marking the village limits. Samson was doubled over, gasping for breath.

“You know, I didn’t laugh at your painful backstory,” I reminded him.

“It’s hilarious, and you know it,” he said. “That’s why you told me, to make me feel better and take my mind off my grandfather. That’s part of the reason I love you.”

“You love me because I’m willing to humiliate myself to amuse you?” I asked.

“That’s sort of twisted.” Samson snorted. “I like it.”

We pulled up to a little cinder-block building marked “Clinic,” and I threw the truck into park. Samson climbed out, but Cooper stayed in his seat.

He cupped my face in his hands, tilting my chin so that I was looking right into his eyes as he spoke. “I. Love. You.”

“How bad do you think this is going to be?” I blanched dramatically in an effort to cover the Mothra-sized butterflies taking flight in my belly. He loved me. Cooper Graham, one of the most beautiful, amazing, frustrating people on the planet, loved me. And it didn’t scare me. I smiled. “What’s next? The St. Crispin’s Day speech?”

He grunted, exasperated. “Mo!”

“All right, all right. I love you, too, Cooper.”

“Pardon me, I think I’m going to yark,” Samson grunted through the open passenger door. “Come on, Cooper.”

Grimacing, Cooper followed me as I slid out through the driver’s-side door. Gripping my hand, he walked across the icy parking lot and through the clinic door. I was right behind him, with Samson bringing up the rear.

A dozen pairs of eyes were suddenly focused in my direction, and conversation died as Cooper’s entire family stared in undisguised shock at us standing in the doorway.

Awkward.

14
 
 

Medusa Versus the Wolfman

I
’
D EXPECTED EVERYONE IN
the pack to be tall and sturdy like Cooper and Samson, but there was a wide spectrum of shapes and sizes in the lupine family tree. Some were as dark-skinned and petite as Evie; others were almost fair-skinned, with light brown hair and blue eyes. This must have been what Cooper meant about diluting the bloodlines. There were so many genetic strains here it was a wonder the wolf magic had been passed along at all. But it had produced some beautiful individuals.

Beautiful but distinctly
not human
. Cooper had always stood out to me, compared with our Grundy neighbors, although I assumed it was because he was so spectacularly handsome . . . or that he pissed me off so much more than other Grundy residents. Now that I saw a pack en masse, the difference was obvious, and I was nervous. Even the products of “dead lines” seemed sinuous in their movements, purposeful. Their eyes took in everything around them, processing and cataloguing information that might be used later. And they were plowing through a box of doughnuts as if carbs were about to be declared illegal.

“Pops!” Samson thundered across the crowd, dragging Cooper and me in his wake. “Look who’s here to talk some sense into you.”

Samson pulled us into a little exam room off the crowded, cheerfully decorated waiting room. Cooper’s family tried too hard to seem as if they’d returned to normal conversation. It was as if a director had yelled, “And . . . background noise!” to a bunch of really untalented movie extras.