Epilogue
New Year’s Eve
Kelly had never been to this restaurant before, not having a budget that lent itself to hundred-dollar steaks. The server had been by twice to refill his water. Then she brought out a bottle of wine.
“I’m twenty minutes early,” he explained to her. “It’s okay. I’m not being stood up.”
She shrugged and gave him a smile. “Good. But that gentleman over there sent the wine.”
Kelly looked over his shoulder in the direction she indicated. A couple sat at a table by the window, a very handsome man and a woman with a strong jaw and an angular face.
Kelly caught the man’s eye and waved his thanks. The man smiled and then returned his attention to his date.
Kelly’s waitress opened and poured the wine, and then explained how to taste it. She looked younger than he was, though not by much because she had to be twenty-one to serve alcohol. But she made the whole thing not awkward and he appreciated it.
He didn’t know who he was waiting for. He had been told where to go and when to go there—and had been sent a rose to put on the table so his date would know who to look for. He thought it was a Black Baccara rose, but he wasn’t sure.
“Am I crazy?” he asked himself aloud, but quietly enough that no one else heard him do it. Two dates with werewolves. Werewolves. Real werewolves.
Werewolves were like movie stars. You saw them on TV, not in real life.
“I can’t believe I let a man I met once set me up on a date,” he muttered. “I mean, he saved my life and all, but still…”
“Most rash,” agreed a very deep voice.
Kelly looked up. And up. This one wasn’t as pretty as Asil, not by a long shot. But his eyes were warm. He pulled the opposite chair back and sat down, stretching out a leg that ended in a metal post capped with a black ferrule.
“I take it that you are Asil’s Concerned Friend?” Kelly asked. “My date for the night?”
The man smiled. “I am. It is very good to meet you, Kelly Lieberman. I am Sherwood Post.”
“Is that really your name?” Kelly heard himself ask, as if in a bad dream. “It sounds like a stripper stage name.”
The man…werewolf…man had a very good laugh.
“Asil was right—as usual,” Sherwood Post said. “He is better at giving presents than I am. There’s a story about my name, but not one for a first date. I have a sneaking suspicion that we’ll have plenty of time for me to tell it to you.”
“Who is he?” asked Ruby in a whisper she thought quiet enough that Sherwood wouldn’t hear her.
She was wrong, but Asil didn’t feel that it was necessary to enlighten her. She’d be embarrassed and Sherwood really wouldn’t care.
“The Marrok’s older brother,” Asil said.
“I thought the Marrok was the oldest werewolf?” she said.
“No, just the most powerful.” Asil found his gaze resting on the back of Sherwood’s head thoughtfully. “Probably.”
Asil had carefully chosen their table so that they could both watch the date he’d arranged. Just as carefully, Sherwood had moved his chair so that they couldn’t see his face, but they didn’t need to.
“Awww,” Ruby said. “Look at that. Instant chemistry. You are good at this.”
“Yes,” Asil agreed. “Of course.”
Ruby laughed, and her laughter filled his heart with joy and warmed him like the Mediterranean sun.
Our Ruby, said the wolf.
Our Ruby, agreed Asil.