Page 23 of Howling
He shoots her a sly wink, a smirk dancing on his face, and she snorts at his horrible flirting.
“O, please, don’t encourage him,” Dante chides, reaching out to grab more beers…and offers her one as well. He wrapped a towel around his hand, the white cloth spotted with blood, the fucker wearing it like a badge of honor or some shit.
I gape at him in shock that he can actually be nice, but he avoids my gaze.
Dante is a bastard, born and bred.
I didn’t think he knew how to act any other way, yet he’s tolerating her.
No, he more than tolerates her.
That he would willingly offer her anything is a clear indication of his interest…or maybe a sign of the apocalypse?
It’s hard to tell.
Even my feral wolf is hanging on to her every word, sniffing at her almost compulsively, like he can’t get enough. It’s been decades since he’s been even remotely sane for more than a few minutes at a time. Despite my mental instability, the instant she touched him, he pranced around like a pup begging for attention.
It’s unsettling as fuck.
Even now, he’s more alert, paying attention to our surroundings for the first time in years. That he’s not trying to take over leaves me suspicious. I’m more beast than man at this point, spending so much time as my wolf that my human body feels alien and unwieldy. Each month, it’s harder and harder to remain on two legs, and it’s only a matter of time before any illusion of humanity is stripped away.
That changed when she touched him, when she asked him to retreat and allow me to be in charge. He hesitated only a second before doing as instructed, preening under her praise.
I need to know how she was able to manipulate him so effortlessly.
It’s my only hope for the future.
I tap my finger against my leg—one, two, three.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
The cadence helps me concentrate and prevent the constant flood of rage from taking over. The incessant struggle is exhausting. Even a hint of violence is enough to trigger me, so I’ve been staying at the house, afraid to step foot outside. I’m ashamed to admit I was so self-absorbed in my own problems that I was completely unaware of what was happening to Tyler.
I’m supposed to be his alpha, I’m supposed to take care of him, and I failed to see he was struggling. He’s been taking regular beatings, keeping quiet about it so as not to trigger me,and I’ve been letting him, willfully ignoring the smell of pain lingering under his normal scent.
No more.
We can’t keep surviving like this.
I casually claim the island seat closest to the door, unwilling to let the captivating girl leave without some answers. If she has the power to change our fate, we can’t let the opportunity slip by without at least trying. Even if I’m beyond saving, the other two deserve a chance at a different future.
And if she is in trouble, like I suspect, the least I can do is put my feral ass to good use and protect her. Once my beast is on the hunt, nothing will stop him but death. Keeping her safe is a better ending than I deserve, and I would consider it an honor.
On the off chance that this is some sort of trick, I relish the opportunity to make her pay.
It would mean I could claim her for my own without an ounce of guilt.
I almost hope that she’s lying.
Trying to remember how to act normal, I grab the beer, take a swig, and glance at the girl. “What brings you to Cedar Falls?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
TYLER
Ishoot Garth a hard look, flashing my fangs at him to shut the fuck up. If he chases her away by pushing too hard, I will spend the rest of my life making him miserable—well, more miserable.
