Page 51 of Werewolves Don't Howl
He reached over, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me around the table and onto his lap. I landed with a gasp while his strong hand slid up my back, pulling our bodies together until we were chest to chest.
“Time for your daily hug. If you protest, you can summon your beast to tell me all about it. I haven’t had a bath yet today. Why didn’t you sleep in a bed last night?” Cross asked, brows drawn together in disapproval.
“You didn’t sleep at all. Does it matter where I sleep?” I pushed against him while my heart beat faster, but his hands were very strong, and he wasn’t letting me go. I definitely wasn’t summoning my monster when she’d probably pin him down and show him affection even more clearly than yesterday.
“Your safety is my responsibility. That means that I need to know where you’re sleeping and that it’s secure.”
I sniffed. “Your entire compound is incredibly secure. I singed my whiskers on your ward. And this isn’t a hug, it’s a cuddle. Torturing yourself won’t make up for torturing me and…”
“Say cheese!”
I turned and got a flash in my eyes as Henrick took the photo. I shook my head. “Try again. This time, you’re trying to catch the moment when my adorableness starts to rub off on him. That’s the purpose of this photoshoot, to adorabalize Senator Silver.” Was it? I couldn’t remember anymore. What was the point of anything? No. I didn’t have time to be depressed today.
“That’s not a word,” Cross pointed out, but it wasn’t a persuasive argument.
I smiled adorably up at him and channeled the gnome. “If you want me in these, then it’s going to make me look like the world’s most marriageable mutt.”
“You aren’t…” Cross began, but I cut him off by stuffing a muffin in his mouth.
“Pictures, Henrick. We’re such an adorable couple, me trying to fatten him up, him trying to look gorgeous in the face of buttery carbs. Do you have it?” I looked over my shoulder at the goblin.
He nodded, but had a funny expression on his face. “I got it. Any other ideas of how to adorabalize the senator?”
“Later, we’ll go to the local yarn store and bury him in yarn while I look poignant. Then I’ll teach him how to knit. He’ll need to learn to knit, because otherwise, he’ll never wear another shirt. That reminds me. Do the photo again, but this time, without a shirt. You can doctor the pics to get rid of his scars.” I started unbuttoning Cross’s white shirt.
He stared at me while my hands trembled, but I ignored them. “This feels like vengeance, only twisted beyond recognition by your inability to be unkind.”
I frowned at the buttons. “I’m sure if I spend enough time with you, your influence will assure my eventual success.”
“I apologize. I should have told you that I stole the body instead of surprising you with it. I thought you’d be pleased, but I didn’t take into consideration your delicate nature.”
He apologized for that, but not the torture? “I’m not delicate,” I snarled as I finally ripped the shirt open because the buttons weren’t working.
He pursed his soft lips while his chest flexed beneath fresh scars and still-healing wounds. Why was he so broad and muscular? “I’ve seen your wolf. Just because you have a vicious beast that can rend someone limb from limb doesn’t mean that parts of you aren’t equally as delicate.”
Delicate? I could kill someone with that wolf as well as the beast. It’s because I looked so harmless that made me so dangerous. I snuggled into him and tangled my fingers in his hair. “Picture, Henrick. I want lots of options when I decide which direction to take this ridiculous farce. Cross, I want to train my beast in the House of Mercy without becoming affiliated. Is that possible?”
The camera flashed again and again, while my heart ached, my stomach churned, and I deeply regretted my life choices.
He cleared his throat. “Train your beast?”
“Also, my elf and my gnome. The triad must be balanced, I always say. Harold said I needed your permission, like you’re in charge or something.”
“Mm. Or something. It will take time to bring back your Elven magic.”
I winced. Thinking about what I lost hurt. “It’s not possible.”
“Of course it’s possible. You’d have to garden with me.”
I pulled away, staring at him in horror. “You didn’t say no.”
He smiled, and it was a horribly smug smile that made me wish I could stab him with a million knitting needles. “I am delighted by the prospect. Hm. Who can we bring in to train your gnomish side? I know just the gnome. He’s an outcast, as all members of my order are, so you’ll have to put up with his rudeness.”
“Perfect. Another outcast gnome. You’ll have to split your time between hugging me and him, for our mental health, naturally. I’d offer to hug him, but no way I’m putting another gnome in close contact with my wolf.”
“Your wolf isn’t contagious,” he said, although he started frowning. “Still, for the sake of safety, I should be the one to give you hug therapy. He’s the reason I know hugging is so essential. He’s completely hardened to all physical contact and will cut off your nose if you try. It’s too late for him.”
“I’m sure if you are more persistent…”
