The Legend of the Werewolf (13 page)

Lousy smart-ass.

“Don’t pout.”

“I’m not pouting!”

More cars came, honking their horns as
they raced to get the last spaces in front of Gordon's
house.

More
were coming? Anne moved to the window
for a better look.

Mike didn’t move, forcing her to step
around him. "What's going on out there?"

He brushed her arm as he leaned down to
see out with her. Anne shivered and knew that their conversation
was over. "I'm betting they're here to see you."

He shook his head as he eyed the scene.
Gordon was now out on his porch, surrounded by a sea pack mates. He
wouldn't let him take another step as they loudly questioned
him.

He looked small and helpless in their
midst. Anne couldn’t remember having ever seen him like this.
Likely brought on by his own surprise at having his usually docile
subjects up in arms at him.

His usual impatient visage returned as
he threw his hands into the air and pointed his finger in the
direction of their little cabin.

Mike jerked away from the window,
pushing Anne with him. "Did they see us?"

They must have since she heard them
coming. Heard their feet padding against the dirt and grass as they
ran like a stampede on the move, their loud murmurs penetrating the
thin cabin walls. "Whether they saw us or not, they're coming
in."

A pathetic whine followed by loud
scratching reminded her that Brock was still outside, now begging
to get in to avoid being stepped on by any excited person wishing
to see Mike.

She rushed to the door, opened it a crack
so he could slink in, and slammed it shut and flipping the tiny
metal lock.

"If they want in here they can just break
it down," Mike said.

She rolled her eyes. "I know
that."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Counting on the fact that they'll have
more respect for Gordon's property than that."

Brock leapt onto the couch and curled
himself up before whining when the pounding on the door started.
She knew why. He couldn't protect them from his own
pack.

***

Mike wanted to curl up and hide somewhere
too. Unfortunately, this tiny, square cottage had nowhere to hide
his giant body.

The calls from outside the door
increased their level in desperation the longer he ignored
them.

He sighted a teenager peering in
through the window, watching with his mouth open, his hands above
his eyes and cupping the glass.

Anne yanked the curtains shut on him.
“Perverted brat.”

“We’re not doing anything,” he
said.

Her cheeks turned pink. “He didn’t know
that.”

Pounding started on the door. Mike
seethed from the center of the cabin. "I thought only a few people
were going to show up."

They scratched and moaned like zombies.
Anne was right, they didn't break it in out of respect for their
pack master's property. Too bad that didn't make him feel any
better.

Anne sat next to Brock and stroked the
reddish brown fur. “I thought so too. I don’t know what
happened.”

The muffled voice of a man Mike never
met before pleaded to him from outside. "Are you really the first
werewolf?"

"Tell us!"

"How did you come to be here? Are you
in danger?"

"We'll keep you safe."

His eyes found Anne's. Unlike the fire he
saw in her whenever she became angry enough to attack, all he saw
was a calm, collected woman staring back up at him. "I told you,
for most werewolves this is like their religion. Getting to meet
you is almost as good as meeting Jesus."

“As good as meeting Jesus?”

“Almost.”

H
e was supposed to be the psychic, but it
still made no sense to him. "How can they worship me? Say I really
was who they think I am, who
you
think I am, what is there to adore? According to all of
you, I'm the reason you're all werewolves to begin with." He looked
at the door again, the only thing separating him from them. "I’d
think they'd want to tear my head off."

Brock cocked his furry head. Anne rolled
her eyes and then stared at the wolf long enough for Mike to know
she was telling him something. Something Mike was not prone to hear
since he wasn't a wolf.

She stood up, hesitated, and then touched
his arm. Her blue eyes, ocean blue, were soft, like the storm had
receded and all that was left were calm waters.

He felt a brief stab of sharp stupidity
that he could ever think of her as being dangerous.

"Lycanthrope’s aren’t the same as they
were two hundred years ago. If this happened back then, then yes,
they would probably want to kill you. Lucky for you, ever since
werewolves learned control, they learned to like what they
were.

“
I couldn't stand the thought of
not being who I am now. More people are born werewolves than they
were since then. They want in here so bad because they want to
thank you for being the cause of what they are."

It didn't sound so ridiculous when she
said it like that. If Mike had the option of meeting his
great-great-great-grandfather, he would. Meeting the man who came
from such a long time ago, who had a part in Mike's very existence,
would be an interesting experience.

Gordon's voice rose above the crowd
outside. “Get away from the door! All of you! What makes you all
think you can come here and harass my guests?” They hushed as
Gordon demanded order among them using shame tactics.

Mike couldn’t believe he heard the man
refer to him as a guest.

Mike looked at Anne, she looked at him.
Brock hopped off his resting spot to trot back to the door, waiting
for them to come.

He kept his groan to himself. Now that
the crowd was settled he was expected to come out and meet them.
Ugh, they all thought he was a God or something. He didn’t know if
he could let them believe he was something he wasn’t.

Anne sighed and cleared her throat. "I
know you don't like me—"

He winced. "I never said
that."

She continued as if he said nothing at
all, sticking her hand out. "But I was hoping we still had a
deal."

Of course they did. He’d made her a
promise.

He took her small hand and watched it
disappear into his when he shook it. "I never go back on my
word."

Anne glanced towards the door, towards the
sound of Gordon's voice, then back at him, a nervous panic sending
the ocean of her eyes into turmoil. "And remember, we have to
convince them to not set Westley back up with someone
else."

Mike picked his hat up from under the
coffee table and placed it snugly on his head. "I wouldn't forget
him. Maybe when this is over you'll tell me why his father's
forcing him to get married in the first place."

She laughed only once. “It’s not as
complicated as you think,” she said, scratching her pretty head of
curly hair before following him out the door to greet his awaiting
fans.

SEVEN

Anne watched the subtle changes in
Mike's face and body. How his jaw became tight even though he
smiled at questions asked three at a time. How he crossed his huge
arms defensively over his chest to keep the children at bay, yet
didn’t say anything when some yanked at his shirt and yelled his
name.

The adults were no better. Like a bunch
of tweens meeting their favorite rock star. They pressed closer and
closer, everyone demanding a piece of his time, a shake of his hand
or nod of his head in their direction. Anything that would
acknowledge them as special among the crowd. They backed him into
the wall.

Aside from the little things, there was no
outright hint of panic. Anne saw it, though. The way his nostrils
flared and eyes dilated.

Never did she think her pack would be
like this. Of course she also hadn't expected the entire pack to
arrive. Now Mike was panicking and Anne felt sick that she was the
one who urged him play the part of the innocent, accidental
God.

Despite his discomfort, he played it
well.

Fanny was the most eager of the lot. For a
tall, stick figure of a woman, she managed to shove her way to the
front of the crowd, demanding answers to her questions. "Are you
really the reincarnation of the first werewolf?"

Anne growled deep in her throat as
Fanny all but leaned against Mike, forcing him to squish himself
even further into the wall behind him. "I don't know. I could
be."

She blinked her mud color eyes
adoringly at him. "That man who tried to kill you, did he have
shadows with him?"

Even though they’d all spoken ten at a
time, now that Fanny was up front and taking charge, everyone went
quiet and listened.

Probably because she was the bossiest
woman in the pack.

Mike sent Anne a sideways glance. She
could practically see the wheels turning in his head. How could
anyone be so excited and delighted for someone being hunted like
wild game?

Anne didn’t need to be a psychic like Mike
to know that’s what he thought. She wanted to know the same thing.
Was Mike reading Fanny's thoughts right now? What would he see
inside of her head?

He cleared his throat, returning to the
pack’s game of Q&A. "Yes, they were long and dark, in the
shapes of people for the most part."

“The most part?”

“They stretched like Mr.
Fantastic.”

Fanny fanned herself with her hand.
“Exciting.”

Anne wanted to be sick. Where the Hell
was her husband?

She scanned the rest of the crowd and saw
Zeke in the back, arms crossed over a broad chest, lip curled into
a high snarl on his square jaw. Sending Mike the same jealous look
Anne had been sending to Fanny for standing so close.

She narrowed her eyes into
slits.
Don't
even think about it
.

He jerked, sneer melting from
his face and was replaced with shock. He searched around for the
source of the voice in his head before he found her. His eyes
narrowed again in defiance.
I don't care who he is. He has no right to
encourage this
.

If Fanny’s eager to bat her
eyes and rub up against him then it's
your
fault for letting her.

The statement stunned him, then sent him
charging into the crowd, pushing everyone out of his way until he
made it to the front. He snatched Fanny by her wrists and pulled
her away from Mike mid-question, towing her out of the war
zone.

Fanny dug her heals into the grass and
gravel. Even though Zeke was shorter than his wife by nearly a head
with the high heels she wore, he was still the stronger of the two.
The heels snapped off of her shoes as he continued to drag her
away.

Fanny was born a werewolf, she had a
crescent moon somewhere on her body. Naturally, between herself and
her husband, considering he was turned, by Fanny, she would be the
most excited.

Mike shot her a grateful glance. The
psychic thing probably told him that Anne was his little helper.
She couldn't help the heat in her cheeks as she nodded her head to
him.

"How much longer should I let this
continue?"

Anne jumped, then blew air out of her
mouth when Gordon materialized beside her. She should’ve heard him
trying to sneak up on her but she'd been preoccupied with smiling
at Mike. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, please," he snapped. Anne jumped
again at the bark in his voice before he pointed an angry finger
between her eyes. "Don't think I don't know for a second what's
going on here. Earlier today he insisted that he wasn't the first,
now look at him!"

Anne did look. One of the pups,
a girl who couldn't be older than ten, stepped up to him, holding
out a purple spiral
Selena Gomez
notebook and pen. Mike bent down and hesitantly indulged
her with an autograph.

Anne winced.

"Get the point now, huh?" Gordon crossed
his arms and circled her once. Anne obediently held still while he
tried to make her crack with intimidation. Like an idiot, she
couldn't hold her mouth shut.

"I didn't bring these people
here."

He shocked her by agreeing. "No, of course
not. My own dumb shit mistake. I told Zeke, he told Fanny. She's a
gossip and a believer like you couldn't imagine. She phoned
everyone else and here they are. And, there he is, not denying it
so much now. You figure you're going to get out of this wedding,
don't you?"

She couldn't lie to him. She wanted to,
so bad, but she had to be truthful. Fucking werewolf habits. "Yes,
so was Westley."

He nodded. "Of that I have no doubt. But
let’s get one thing straight, Princess. I chose you as a favor to
him. You’re both close. Something could come of it. But, if you
find a way out, I will choose another girl for him. Wouldn’t be so
much better if it were a complete stranger from another pack, would
it?”