Chapter Twelve #2
“They are conniving, they only care about themselves?—”
“And yet, he saved my life, didn’t he? When you had no one else to turn to, you relied on him and he saved my life.”
Dad growls, like he’s forgotten all about that—or maybe he’s trying to forget about every piece of it.
“Am I wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Which part?”
Dad makes a noncommittal noise that sounds somewhere between a grumble and a growl. “You are making a mistake. Right now, the tension between vampires and weres is at an all-time high. You know it looks bad on me that my son has chosen to run off and join the vampires.”
“I didn’t join them. I also didn’t join the pack.
Why can’t I be my own person? Why do I have to conform to whatever others expect of me?
Maybe, more than anything, we need to band together and figure out what’s going on instead of pulling apart.
Maybe me being with Casimir can help others do that? ”
“Just go.”
I nod. “Okay. Come on, Casimir,” I say as I grab his wrist and pull him after me, but when he hesitates, I’m brought to a stop. I look back at him and notice he’s staring at my father.
“Sometimes it’s hard to stand up and be brave enough to face both sides when it would be so much easier to hide in the middle of a group or a pack,” Casimir says. “I guess it doesn’t matter how old we get, we always have room to learn from others.”
Dad stares at Casimir but doesn’t say anything as I realize that I’d just gotten complimented. And a pretty damn nice one at that.
I make my way back to Casimir’s car as the pack watches me. Half of them stare at me in disgust over what I’ve done, not seeing it as me choosing for myself, but seeing it as me having picked the vampires over them. But maybe with time, they’ll grow to understand things.
“Hey, Julian,” Willow, one of my friends in the pack, says. “Please, just be careful.”
“I am,” I assure her, not at all planning on telling any of them about last night’s events.
When I get in the car and Casimir pulls out of the parking lot, I glower at him.
“What could that look possibly be for?” he asks. “I was a lovely gentleman! I didn’t threaten your father once!”
“You know what it was for!” I growl. “You rubbed your scent all over me and you put me in your shirt.”
He’s back to grinning. “I took pity on you because you looked cold.”
“Cold, my ass,” I grumble as I gently jab him in the side with my finger. “Are you happy?”
His smile sure tells me he is. “I complimented you! Where is the praise over that?”
“What? Were you feeling a bit guilty after your last treatment of me?”
Casimir laughs as he speeds off toward his home. “Well… I’m going to be honest… I just really need you to paint Gustov!”
“You are ridiculous,” I decide. “When’s your next super-secret vampire meeting?”
“There’s one tonight with the vampire council—heads of neighboring territories as well as some of the older and more powerful vampires—that I have no plans to go to, and wolves are not permitted.”
“Not even your partner? However will we show them how in love we are? Imagine the looks of displeasure on their faces,” I say since that seems to sway him more than anything and sure enough, that pleased look returns.
“You are right! We must go! Oh! I almost forgot, I got you something,” he says as he reaches into the back seat and grabs a little gift bag that he hands me.
“If this was from anyone else, I would be excited, but from you…”
I reach in and pull out a doggy bandana that says, “I Woof You.”
“Wow, thank you,” I say as I tie it around my neck. “I feel beautiful. My only regret is that I didn’t get to wear it in front of my father to prove to him that we really are equals.”
Casimir glances over at me, clearly approving. “I’m pleased you like it. I got Gustov a matching one.”
“Yay, so kind. You want to know something? I’ve actually seen your house before.”
“Oh? Stalking me?”
“No, my dad abducted me and drove me there and then he went and pissed on your bushes. It was… weird. He was drunk. I ended up taking a nap in your garden as he stalked around because he was confident you’d murdered one of his buds and buried them in the backyard.
I guess they just went on vacation and my dad forgot or something.
So I just curled up on your lawn furniture and napped. It was quite comfortable.”
“Ah, makes sense. I thought that lawn furniture smelled weird,” he says.
“You are the least romantic person I have ever met,” I decide.
He’s pleased.
“I’m going to paint your dog so badly.”
He is no longer pleased. “Excuse me? I have warmed you up, I kept you company, I was prepared to smack your father down to keep you safe, and you would possibly paint Gustov as anything less than the majestic and mighty creature he is?”
I tug on my bandana. “No idea why.”
Casimir parks the car and gets out. “I thought you were a better person than that.”
“Why has this now become me being the monster?” I ask as I jump out of the car to follow him with my bag of paint supplies.
His house is as gorgeous as I remember. It’s a grand three-story home with a large porch and unique black pillars.
It gives it Victorian vibes while still looking slightly modern.
He reaches the front door and swings it open, and I hear a scrambling of claws as a dog—who I presume is Gustov—comes barreling around the corner.
I… I’m not sure what I thought Gustov would be. Like… maybe a German shepherd or a Belgian Malinois or something. But nope, what comes skidding around the corner, fur fluttering back, is the fluffiest standard poodle I’ve ever seen in my life.
He’s a reddish color with the traditional poodle cut, but the hair on his head is long and currently tied up with a red band that keeps it out of his eyes and causes it to poof out on top.
He skids right past Casimir, unable to get traction on the ceramic tiles before he slams right into me, kicks a rug out from under his feet, flips onto his back and leaps up like all four legs are made of springs.
A noise escapes me, something that’s sort of reminiscent of a laugh as the fluffy hair tied up on top of the dog’s head bobs all around while Gustov comes in for round two.
Casimir’s attention snaps to me. “What was that noise?”
“I’m sorry! His entrance was cute! Are you going to be mad because I think your dog is cute?”
“He is not cute. He’s majestic and dignified!” he declares as Gustov starts smacking the ground in front of me with his paws because I haven’t graced him with a pet yet.
“Oh yes, so macho with your little hair bow,” I coo as I cup the fluff on his head.
“Men can wear hairbands,” Casimir says.
“And your cute little poofball cut,” I add.
“He doesn’t have his summer cut yet! You had one job. To come over and paint my dog.”
The dog is thrilled by my attention. “Now tell me, did he come with the name Gustov?”
“He did! It said Gouda right on his collar, so I assumed they meant Gustov.”
“Makes total sense,” I say as I kneel down and my fingers sink into the poof on his head. It’s so soft and fluffy. “Gosh, you are cu—I mean… rugged and dashing.”
“That’s acceptable.”
“Oh thank god. Is your owner always this picky?” Then something hits me as Gustov tries to climb onto my lap even though he has to weigh like sixty pounds. “You were going to eat him?”
“Do you see the issue?” Casimir says as he reaches out and I assume it’s to pet the dog, but no, it’s to pluck at his curly fur around his neck. “Every time I tried, all I got was a mouthful of this.”
“The issue is that he’s adorable!”
“One could consider you adorable and those vampires still tried eating you,” he reminds me.
That makes me feel weirdly… complimented as he starts off into the house while his dog bounds off my lap and bounces after him.
“Do you like how your bandana matches his?”
“No, it just makes me feel jealous how much better it looks on him,” I say as I grab my bag and hurry after him.
“Do you want something to drink? I have… warm tap water and… cold tap water. I clearly don’t get many visitors.”
“How will I ever choose?”
“You could also share Gustov’s bowl.”
“Gus, your owner couldn’t fake a date if his life depended on it,” I say as I head over to the kitchen table and start spreading my stuff out.
“What about a mix?” he asks as he grabs a cup and runs it cold for a few seconds before flipping it to warm, all while staring me in the eyes.
“Whoever ends up with you is going to be a damn lucky man. Like I know this is all fake, but my heart… it won’t stop thundering.”
“Do you think I should call a vet? Could be a heart murmur.”
“Oh my god. You are ridiculous. Let me have that water.”
“I’m joking. I’ll get you cold water.”
“I need it for painting,” I say, so he hands it over. “Do you think your dog will sit still so I can get a decent look at him?”
“It’s questionable,” he admits as I pull out a scrap piece of watercolor paper.
While Casimir struggles to get the energetic fluff ball to listen, I squeeze some colors onto my paint tray and dip my brush in the water.
With only water on the brush, I proceed to paint a massive cotton ball shape which I feel totally represents Casimir’s dog who is now rolling around on the ground, firmly believing that he’s far too cute to listen to any commands.
Grabbing a mix of brown, I drop the paint in and watch it spread to all of the areas the water has touched.
I push it out and then with a pen, I add two eyeballs to my cotton ball and pass it over.
“It’s still wet, so don’t tilt the paper.”
Casimir stops what he’s doing and grabs it before staring at my “masterpiece.”
“I’m sorry, the constriction of the bandana is prohibiting me from painting well,” I say as I motion to it.
Casimir is saying nothing, so I wonder if I offended him or if he didn’t get that the ball of fluff with two eyes was a joke.
“It was a joke, I just wanted to check that I liked the color I mixed for him. You can toss it.”