The Legend of the Werewolf (26 page)

Mike grinned. "You know when I first
found out about you and the dragon, I thought it was going to be
uncomfortable the next time I saw you. You're actually easy to get
along with."

"Thanks, I guess." Westley opened the
door to the garage and flicked the light, illuminating what was
otherwise a pitch black cave to reveal a spacious dream.

Clean grey cement lined the floors and
walls, creating what would have been a dull atmosphere had it not
been for the colorful beauties in the center.

"Whoa."

Westley grinned. "Gets me every time
too."

Almost as if placed there to have pictures
taken for a magazine, sat three luxury vehicles, and one chopper,
reflecting light from the bright bulbs above them.

Little voices inside Mike’s head called to
him, beckoning him to approach, admire, and play. Abruptly, he knew
it was the cars. If they were women, real women, they’d be the kind
that sang to you, emptied your wallet, and then took you for the
wildest ride of your life.

Like a man drawn to the singing of a
nymph, he was powerless against the spell. He approached the
Ferrari 450 first, his mouth watering as he touched the sleek
yellow hood that glistened like a diamond under the bright lights
above. The tinted windows contrasted in a pleasing manner against
the bright color, but it also prevented him from seeing the
interior that was no doubt custom.

He could picture dark leather and a
bitchin’ stereo on his own.

Westley clapped him on the back,
pulling him from his admiration. "Forget it. I don't even get to
drive that one."

Mike whimpered as he was pulled
from his fantasy of driving a car he could never in his lifetime
afford. He fought to keep from staring at the hot-rod red Porsche
with an interior that he
could
see. The beige leather seats and polished wheels
made Mike think bitterly of his own miserable vehicle which still
sat in the parking lot of the bar in Sunset Valley.

That is, i
f it hadn’t been towed by
now.

Westley finally put him out of
his misery and stopped him. Mike's mouth gaped. Next to a blue
flaming bike that the guys on
Orange County Chopper
probably built, was the most
beautiful truck he’d ever seen.

Westley unlocked the door and lifted
himself into the black leather seats. He leaned out the window with
the air of a man showing off his firstborn child. "This is a Ford
F-150, 1975. Completely custom and rides like a newborn truck
should."

Mike knew what it was without being
told. He whistled and pat the silver hood. He wanted to see the
engine underneath. "She does look good for her age."

"That's because I've been working on
her since I was sixteen. Never let anyone tell you a gay man only
likes to decorate bedrooms and redo kitchens."

Mike admired the gleaming sheen, the
spotless grill, and the chrome wheels. It certainly looked like it
had received a lot of love and attention.

His eyes returned with longing
to the ladies that still called his name. The voices in his head
were damn near sexual.
Stroke us, slip inside us, ride us, no one has to
know
.

It was like being tempted by the
innocent yet gorgeous farm girl who was desperate to have a man’s
touch. "None of the cars in this garage are ever used, are
they?"

Westley smiled sardonically. "How'd you
guess?"

Mike went along with the sarcasm.
"Probably because we're on a ranch, and the only thing these cars
could do around here is get dirty."

"They're my dad's trophy wives. He shows
them off when he wants to feel important. Occasionally, he takes
them out after it rains and brings them back covered in mud so he
can wash them. Or to prove that mud wrestling isn’t just for
chicks. I’m not sure which it is.”

Mike grinned, liking Westley more and
more now that he was coming out of his shell.

“But this truck is mine,” he said,
running his hands along the wheel. “So he can't accuse you of theft
when it turns up missing."

"Thanks." Mike walked to the driver's
side.

Westley raised an eyebrow at him.
"Something I can help you with?"

What the Hell? "Can I get in so I can
drive it out?"

Westley stroked the wheel. "See that's the
thing. Even if it is my truck and even if I do give you the keys,
Gordon will still lose his top at having you leave without his say
so. Plus it's my truck and no one drives my truck. I'll take you to
wherever you need to go."

Unbelievable. "How is that going to be
any better? He'll just think I tricked you into coming, or even
kidnapped you."

"Not really. I already told him I'm
leaving."

"What?"

Westley nodded and rubbed his forehead
with his thumb. "It's why he went out on his run. He’s pissed. I
figured it’d be better if I was gone before he came
back."

Mike couldn’t believe it, not that it was
any of his business whether the boy wanted to leave home or not. He
was more than old enough to make that kind of decision, but it just
threw another thing he thought he knew about werewolves in the
ditch. "I thought packs were important to you. To all werewolves, I
mean."

Westley shifted. "It is, and I'll miss
everyone. But I made the decision to bond with a dragon. I didn’t
do it by accident. I just did it.” He looked down at his hands.
“It’s time I lived with that decision.”

Westley inserted the key and started
the ignition. The engine roared to life like an excited animal
loose from its leash.

Mike ran to the other side and hoisted
himself into the truck, savoring the feel of the warm leather seat
that greeted him.

He sighed. “Heated seats?”

“Mmhmm.”

Jealousy reared its ugly head as Mike
admired the GPS in the dash. It sat under a black Sirius Satellite
Radio with color screen. Mike wondered if he could get away with
knocking Westley out of the truck and driving it home on his
own.

He shook his head and changed his mind
pretty damn fast. It wouldn’t look right if he stole a truck, being
a cop and all.

Westley reached above his head and
pressed a button built into the truck's ceiling. The garage door
lifted, spilling bright, natural light that drowned the artificial
light of the bulbs.

Chris stood waiting for them, standing
casually as though his accident never occurred with a heavy bag
over his shoulder. He jogged to the passenger side first, then
scoffed when his eyes met Mike's. "Oh, I see how it is." He threw
the bag in the back before jumping in with it. "He gets to sit up
front while I'm stuck back here."

Mike stretched, making sure he looked
good and comfortable. “That’s exactly how it is.”

“I was gravely injured in case you
forgot. Should I really be in the back of a truck?”

"You'll live. Slide your window up,
cop." Westley drove the truck out onto the property. A few people
stopped at the sight of the truck but no one seemed to see Mike
through the tinted windows. Realizing they were probably staring at
the dragon in the back, Mike heaved a sigh as they moved towards
the gate.

Chris peeked through the little window
when they didn't stop. "Are we bringing Anne?"

Mike's chest constricted, like a
machine had just sucked the air right out of it. He didn't want to
leave her behind. She probably didn't know that he meant to leave
right away when he exited the room.

Knowing her, she’d be angry when she found
out. He could already picture her breaking something or picking a
fight with a member of her pack. But, if Hadrian found out they
were married…

Mike straightened in his seat and
forced the pain under his ribs down to a dull ache. "No. It's just
us."

Westley pulled a cell phone from a
compartment above his head and tossed it to Mike. "Better call for
your backup then, 'cause I don't think we're going to make it very
far before your wizard friend finds us."

FOURTEEN

"Where's Mike?"

"Oh, he went with Westley to Gordon's
cabin. Might still be there waiting for him."

Anne breathed a sigh, thankful that a
nosey busybody like Fanny would pay enough attention to the lives
of other people to know where her husband went.

"Thanks, I'm just going to get him."
She couldn’t let him leave. They hadn’t known each other long, but
she felt something for him. He must feel something for her
too.

There were too many moments alone where
something would’ve happened had it not been for an interruption.
Too many times her body buzzed when he touched her.

He couldn’t leave her with something like
that unfinished. Her grandpa’s story brought her courage and she
wouldn’t go for the rest of her life regretting her lost
love.

"Hope you're enjoying your honeymoon!"
Fanny called, loudly enough that anyone not sitting indoors with
their windows shut would hear them.

She wished she were enjoying her
honeymoon. She had to find her husband and convince him not to
leave before that could happen.

Anne made it to the porch steps and
jogged up when Gordon slammed the door open and stormed out. His
eyes found hers, his feet smashed against the wood beneath his feet
as he trampled towards her. His gaze locked her in
place.

"
Where are they?
" He roared.

"I—they ... what?" Anne said when she
untangled her tongue. Never had she seen Gordon's face that shade
of red before, or the veins in his neck popping out from his neck
to his head.

He slammed his fist down on the wooden
rail, splintering the polished beam with a crack. Anne flinched
away from the flying wood chips. "You know exactly who I mean!
Westley's truck is gone! He and that dragon aren't here anymore.
Where are they?"

Anne stopped breathing. She forgot how
to make her lungs work. Westley and Chris left? Without telling
her?

Her heart accelerated and the extra
blood made her head swim.

That was what Westley had been talking
about back at his cabin. It wasn’t about breaking up with Chris, it
was about leaving.

He actually did it. Westley did what
Anne couldn’t do.

He left his pack.

Then another thought occurred to her
and the blood rushed out of her face as quickly as it had rushed
in. "Where's Mike?"

"I'm not asking about him!" Gordon
exploded. "Where is my son?"

Just like that, she knew Mike left without
saying goodbye too. Went with Westley and Chris to wherever it was
they were going.

But Mike thought he was endangering the
pack, he wouldn't travel with them for long. Probably enough for
him to get another car so he could get back to the city.

The thought that they had the courage
to leave, to get out from under Gordon's thumb sizzled her blood.
It brought Anne a courage she didn't know she possessed to stand up
to her pack master. "I don't know where he went. Probably to get
married to Chris before you could marry him off to someone
else."

Gordon’s face turned such a dark shade of
red it neared purple. "If he wants to inherit any of this then he
better not have," he hissed, stomping back to the house.

It was a clear dismissal. Anne ignored it
and followed him, pushing past passed the door before it could slam
in her face. "Did it ever occur to you that he doesn't want any of
this?"

Gordon kept walking. "Get out of here,
girl."

Anne fought against the instinct that
commanded her to obey. "Westley doesn't want to be pack master. He
was big enough to admit that he wouldn't be good at it and wanted
you to hand it to someone else."

He stopped and spun. "Are you
deaf? I said leave.
Now
!"

Anne's feet twitched. They wanted to
walk out the door, but she forced herself to stay as though they
had been nailed to the floor. "Who the Hell do you think you are?
Telling me to get married to someone I don't love? Westley could
never love me like that, and you knew it. You only wanted him to
get married to keep him from leaving the pack with a dragon, and
look where that got you. He left anyway."

He turned. His feet were heavy as he
stomped towards her. The strike of his hand stung her cheek. Anne's
head snapped to the side with the force of the blow that would’ve
taken the head off a normal girl.

Gordon had never hit her
before.

Guess that meant the whole princess
thing was finally over.

She looked at him, his face still
twisted with angry rage. He pointed at the door behind her. "Get
out."

Her face burned. She turned and left
Gordon's house without another word.

Embarrassment flooded her as she shut
the door behind her. She accomplished nothing. She didn't teach him
a lesson, open his eyes, or make him see the error of his ways. He
was a pack master. He could do no wrong.