5. When Fate Bites Back
5
When Fate Bites Back
Hugh bolted.
Or at least he tried to bolt.
Luckily, my new werewolf reflexes warned me he might pull a sudden disappearing act. My hand found the collar of his suit a fraction of a second before he started running. A choked sound left him as I yanked him close, his feet still cycling wildly on the gravel.
“Don’t even think about it!” I hissed in his ear.
To my everlasting surprise, Hugh couldn’t fight his way out of my grip. He finally gave up and went limp.
Ellie and Bo looked impressed.
I dimly recalled supernatural strength being a reported attribute of werewolves. I was discreetly checking my biceps to see if they looked like tree trunks when I became conscious of a burning gaze.
I could tell the woman scowling at us from the doorway of the mansion was Hugh’s mother. She was projecting strong mother-disappointed-with-her-offspring vibes, a look I recognized, having been the victim of it on many an occasion. I determined this must be Victoria.
“Mother, please don’t have a meltdown—” Hugh started.
“Shut it, Hugh!” Victoria Hawthorne hugged the cat closer. The feline looked down at us with aristocratic disdain.
I was starting to regret not running for those hills when I had the chance.
“Look,” Hugh tried again, his voice strained. “It’s not as bad as?—”
“It’s pretty damning from where I’m standing,” Victoria cut in icily. “That woman smells like a newly turned werewolf.” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Also, she looks like she got into a fight with a hair dryer and lost.”
“We should get you that special shampoo soon,” Ellie whispered anxiously.
I lowered my brows at Hugh’s mother. “This is your son’s fault, so how about you cut back on the attitude, lady?”
An incoherent sound left Hugh.
The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” Victoria’s tone could have frozen Hell. “You are?”
“Abigail West.” I jutted my chin, refusing to be cowed. “Everyone calls me Abby.”
“How pedestrian,” someone muttered.
Bo’s ears shot up. I looked down.
The Persian cat’s tail swished slowly. Its sapphire eyes studied me with an unsettling intelligence.
“Did that cat just talk?” I asked leadenly.
“The cat talks too?!” Ellie gasped.
Victoria ignored my best friend and studied me with a measured frown. “I guess the fact that you can hear Pearl means you really are a werewolf.” Her tone had mollified a fraction.
“Pearl?”
The cat answered in her stead.
“Lady Veronica Pearl Whiskerton the Third,” the feline said haughtily. “Though you may address me as Pearl, since we’ll be pack mates soon.” She paused and sneered. “Assuming you survive the next full moon, of course.”
Bo stamped his paws. “I don’t like her.”
My eyes shrank to slits. “I know a good taxidermist. Want me to take you there, Veronica?”
Victoria drew a sharp breath. Pearl made an angry sound.
Victoria recovered her composure first and examined Bo with pursed lips. “Your dog talks?”
“Yeah. Hugh here thinks he might be part werewolf.”
Hugh nodded.
Victoria digested this information with a cold look. She turned to Bernard. “Fetch Samuel.”
The butler adjusted his monocle and vanished inside with impressive speed.
“We should continue this discussion somewhere more private,” Victoria said tightly. She swept inside like a queen, Pearl peering around at us from her arms with a withering stare.
“Is the cat always this charming?” I muttered to Hugh as we followed.
“Pearl doesn’t like anyone except Mother,” Hugh said morosely. “And even that’s debatable some days.”
“She smells like entitlement and expensive cat food,” Bo huffed.
We entered a grand entrance hall with a sweeping staircase and a crystal chandelier that probably cost more than my annual salary. Multiple sets of eyes watched our progress from the gilt-framed portraits lining the walls. All of them looked judgmental.
Hugh’s face had taken on a sheen of pure dread again.
I tried to distract him by indicating the portraits. “Your ancestors?”
“Yeah.” Hugh looked relieved at my attempt to break the nail-biting tension hanging over us. “The hairy ones were painted during the full moon.”
I stared at a particularly shaggy gentleman in Victorian dress. “That explains a lot.”
“Watch your mouth, young lady.” Victoria appeared from a corridor to the right, her expression pinched. “That’s my great-grandfather you’re talking about.”
I blinked. “Russell the newspaper truck chaser?” I whispered to Hugh out of the corner of my mouth.
“The very same.”
“This way, please.” Victoria gestured in the direction of what appeared to be a formal sitting room.
The sound of heavy footsteps overhead made us all pause. Hugh went pale.
“That would be Samuel,” Victoria said with grim satisfaction.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. I looked up.
My breath caught.
Bo’s ears flattened. Ellie whimpered. The pair of them scooted behind me and peered anxiously at the figure on the landing.
Power poured off the man in waves. Samuel Hawthorne wore a crisp white shirt and dark slacks that did little to hide his impressive build. His dark hair curled at his neckline and was slightly disheveled, like he’d run his hands through it in frustration. But it was his face that caught and held my attention—all sharp angles and brooding intensity, his eyes blazing like amber fire behind his tortoiseshell-framed glasses.
Those eyes locked onto mine. We both froze.
Something electric shot through me. My skin tingled and my pulse spiked, sending every hair on my body on end. Judging from the way his pupils flared, he was experiencing a similar reaction.
The world tilted sideways.
“What the hell?” I mumbled, grabbing the nearest solid object for support.
Unfortunately, that turned out to be Hugh.
“Careful.” He steadied me and shot a nervous glance at his brother.
Samuel’s gaze dropped to where Hugh was touching me. He lowered his brows.
Hugh let go hastily.
“What’s happening?” I managed between clenched teeth. My heart was pounding like crazy and my skin felt tight, like I was about to burst out of it.
“Abby?” Ellie’s eyes were wide with apprehension.
Victoria was staring at me, slack-jawed and ashen faced. “Oh God.”
Bo fidgeted nervously beside me. “I did not see that coming.”
“What?!” I snapped, an edge of hysteria to my voice.
“I think you just bonded with the alpha of the pack,” the Husky quavered, tail tucked firmly between his legs. He gulped. “You’re now technically his loony.”
“Luna,” Hugh corrected automatically.
“Loony, luna, same thing.”
Ellie’s eyes rounded until they looked like they were about to fall out of her head. Victoria swayed and clutched the wall in an overly dramatic fashion. Even Pearl appeared lost for words.
The sound of my heartbeat filled my ears.
Things had just gone from weird to wackadoodle crazy.
Samuel scowled at his brother. “What the hell did you do, you dumb mutt?!”
His roar echoed across the foyer and jolted me back to my senses.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Hugh protested.
Samuel and I glared at him.
Samuel descended the stairs, his heated gaze finding my face again. “Start with why there’s a newly turned werewolf in our home. One who appears to be my—” He stopped, jaw clenching.
“Mate?” Pearl had recovered. The cat smirked. “The woman who will bear your pups?—”
“One more word out of you and I will confiscate the gourmet food you’ve been hiding all over the mansion,” Samuel said in a dangerous voice.
The cat hissed.
I realized I was hyperventilating. “ Pups?! ”