Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
GLENN
Someone is staring at me. Several someones, in fact. I blink my eyes open and grunt as three men loom over me. I have a weird taste in my mouth, and I push myself up to my elbows, spitting whatever it is out. Mud and leaves stick to my skin, and I can’t quite place why I’m lying naked outside.
“The fuck you want?” I murmur, turning to look up at the people hovering over me. My head feels slightly groggy, and I’m a little off-kilter, but I know Arbor was here. Shit. Where the hell is he?
“It worked. Told you it would,” a male voice says.
I blink and look around once more.
“He’s looking for the omega,” one of them says, the other nodding in agreement. “Don’t worry, Ace. He’s safe. Ran away quick as a fox when he saw us coming.”
“Left you here to rot. But we saved you. Don’t worry,” another one says.
The three men grin, their eyes golden and glowing. They’ve styled their hair into mullets, their clothes a range of campy and kitsch.
One guy’s even wearing a purple midriff shirt and frayed jean shorts. The kind that shows the tops of his ass cheeks.
“Kinda rude he didn’t bring you onto the porch,” the guy with the mustache says.
“Well, he tried for a few seconds,” the midriff one says. “Got you like a few feet, but his arms are too skinny. No muscle, you know?”
“Frail little omega,” the one with the Doc Martens and the fishnet top says. I growl at the insult to the man I just fucked, but they all laugh. “Don’t worry. We aren’t interested in the omega. We’re more interested in you, which is why we gave you snaproot.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“A special herb that helps people snap out of it.” They snort and giggle at how funny they think they are.
“Why did you help me?”
Their eyes rake down my naked body, covered in mud and leaves, and I see them wet their lips.
“Well, you’re an alpha, right?”
“Yeah, and who the fuck are you?”
I try to stand, but mustache-guy puts his Converse sneaker-covered foot on me and shoves. I fall backward into the dirt with a grunt.
“Well, you guys call us Howlers. But you’re oh-so-wrong,” he says with a grin, his canines slightly elongated.
“It’s insulting, really,” the guy with the midriff says. “Since we’re so much cooler than those guys.”
I look at the three of them but stay silent, wondering if they’re gonna tell me what they mean. Sometimes, if you wait long enough, people can’t help but expose themselves.
“Should we tell ’im?” Mustache asks, proving my theory right.
They debate it, the three of them whispering in hushed tones, in a language I don’t understand. Something ancient, something I’ve never heard before.
Suddenly, they stop speaking and stare down at me.
“We’ll tell you, but we want to eat first,” Mustache says. “And we’ve smelled your cooking. We think it’s just right.”
“What are you? The three fucking bears?” I murmur.
They howl at that, their teeth gnashing, their ears twitching slightly as they slap their hands against their legs, and then Doc Martens shakes his head. “Nah, Goldilocks. We’re just a few werewolves in search of food. Now you gonna let us in?”
“By the hair of our chinny, chin, chins,” Mustache says, only to be met with groans.
“That’s the three little pigs, dweeb.”
Converse’s foot leaves my chest, and I push myself to my feet, staring at them in disbelief.
“Werewolves? Fuck off. That’s not a thing anymore.”
“Shut up with the disbelief. We are what we are, and we’re sure as fuck real.
Now come on.” They jostle me slightly, pushing me toward the house.
I go as unwillingly as I can, dragging my feet and resisting slightly.
My eyes search for Arbor as I walk forward.
I don’t quite believe that he left. Would he really do that?
Leave me to the Howlers roaming the woods?
I don’t think so, but then again, I don’t really know him.
I just know the way he tastes, the way he smells, and the sounds he makes when I’m pushing in and out of his tight, wet hole.
Everything else I know about him is from the job site.
How stubborn he is, how professional. How much he hates being an omega.
How he’s part fae.
I twist the knob on the front door and step inside, smelling the scent of Arbor lingering there. But it’s quickly overwhelmed by the scent of the werewolves as they invade my space.
“Nice place.”
Midriff runs his hands along one of my shelves and pulls a book out, turning it upside down and staring at it.
“You read?” he asks, and I stare at him.
“Don’t you?”
“Nah.”
He tosses the book onto the couch, and Doc Martens pushes me down the hallway toward the bedroom. When we enter, I see the sheets are still rumpled from Arbor, his mess still lingering on the fabric.
I want to text him to see where he went, to make sure he’s safe.
“Smells like sex in here.”
I say nothing, just rub at my throbbing temples, and he shoves me slightly to get me moving.
“Go on. Get changed and then make us something to eat. You don’t want to see a hangry werewolf.”
I pull on some pants and a shirt that were lying on the floor before moving back into the kitchen, followed closely by Doc Martens.
As if they think I’d run and leave my house to them.
They’d destroy it in no time. I know what they’ve been doing to the places they’ve broken into. I’m not letting them do that to mine.
I see Mustache at the fridge, staring inside. “Told you. He’s got lots of good food. You better not fuck with us and not use a recipe. I want something fancy, like a casserole.”
I stare at them deadpan. “I’ll cook once I can call my omega.”
“Pfft, he doesn’t want to hear from you. He ran out of here with his tail between his very skinny, pale legs after he knocked you out.”
My mind whirls at that. Knocked me out? There’s no fucking way he could have done that. But I do feel weird, that bitter taste in my mouth from the snaproot and a slight grogginess that won’t go away.
“That’s the deal. Or no food.”
They grumble, speaking in that dialect I can’t understand, before Mustache nods.
“Fine. You have two minutes.”
I swipe my phone off the kitchen table and call Arbor. He answers almost immediately.
“Shit, Glenn. Are you okay?”
I let out a breath, happy to hear his voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted to see where you went.”
He’s silent for a moment, and something inside of me sinks. “I—well, I left.”
“Yeah, that’s what they told me.”
“The Howlers?”
“Yeah.”
I hear him swallow and then curse under his breath. “Oh gods, I shouldn’t have left you there, but they were coming so fast, and I didn’t…I didn’t want to get caught up in it.”
Logically, I can understand that. I really can. As an omega in heat, you never know what will happen with a pack of alphas, but still… He could have at least waited or called someone. Done anything, really.
“Ask him what he used on your head to make you fall asleep,” midriff says, and I glance over at him.
I have no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.
Except maybe I do. A flicker of something slides through my mind, the press of a cool stone against my temple, the soft apology he whispered in my ear.
“Shit—” Arbor begins, obviously having heard what they said.
My stomach clenches with anxiety. “What does he mean?”
He’s silent for a long time and then sighs. “I had to. I can’t ever stay, Glenn. I can’t. I need you not to want me. Hate me, even.”
My hand tightens on my phone, my eyes narrowing. What the fuck does that mean? So, he used some kind of magic on me to get away? Didn’t trust me enough to think I’d actually let him go? It’s insulting. Rude. Anger wells up inside me like a tidal wave.
“Yeah, I get it,” is all I can say, and I hear Arbor stammer. My chest clenches once more, my skin turning hot from frustration. Once again, he makes me feel that dichotomous pull, back and forth like a fucking ship in the sea. I don’t know which way is up.
Maybe it’s better if I just give up, swim for shore, and find someone easy, someone less complicated.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“It’s no problem, Mr. Wren,” I bite out, my voice cold. I hear nothing but labored breathing on his end of the line. “I’ll see you at work.”
I hang up, tossing my phone on the couch and moving back into the kitchen. Something ugly sits in the pit of my stomach as I pull ingredients out from the fridge and cabinets, my movements a little too rough, pots and pans clanging on the counters and stove.
The Howlers do nothing to help, just sit back and watch, their eyes intent, their voices quiet when they speak to one another.
It’s making me angrier. Arbor leaving, my house being invaded, realizing he used magic to put me out so he could sneak off. Probably what he did the night of the Heat Hunt as well. He got me. And he got me good.
“You look like you need a drink,” Doc Martens pipes up. “Marlow makes a mean Rut and Rum.”
“Don’t tell him our fucking names, man,” Marlow, previously known as Mustache, says.
“Meh, he’s cool. I can tell,” Doc Martens replies before sweeping his hand to his chest. “I’m Vick, and that one over there in the tiny jean shorts is Corvin.”
I don’t even bother looking, just grunt.
“Go make him the drink, Mar, he’s heartbroken,” Vick says.
I huff. “I’m not heartbroken. Don’t give a fuck about any of it. Or him. Really don’t give a fuck about him.”
“He so gives a fuck,” I hear one of them whisper, but don’t bother looking at who said it. Instead, I just whip up a red sauce in a pan, listening as they continue to whisper in low tones. Marlow is mixing my drink, exclaiming over the ice cubes I have in the freezer just for cocktails.
“Fucking cool, dude,” he murmurs. “They’re so round.”
A few minutes later, Marlow is handing me a Rut and Rum. It’s golden and fizzy, one of my large circular ice cubes sitting in the middle.
I put it to my lips and finish it in two gulps, setting it down with an angry clatter.
“Not bad,” I say. And I’m not even lying. It was a good drink.
“Make him another,” Vick commands. “And then tell us all about your problems, Ace. Get it off your chest.”
They set another drink before me. I finish it in two gulps once more.
I clench my jaw, about ready to hit them all over the head with a pan, when my mouth opens, and it all comes spilling out.
Our first meeting.
Working together.
Yesterday and today.
The way I feel used and discarded, like I’m not good enough.
They listen intently as I drain the noodles and turn off the stove. Then, I pull down some plates and hand them out.
“Go on. Dish up. You earned it listening to that shit,” I murmur, and Corvin slaps me on the back.
“We’re happy to do it. We’re really good listeners. Omegas are sneaky little shits, which is why we prefer alphas and betas,” Marlow says, handing me another drink. I sip at it this time, sinking down at the kitchen table and staring out the window.
“Maybe I should stick with a beta too,” I murmur, and Vick grunts as he digs into the meal I prepared. It’s like they haven’t eaten in ages with the way they’re groaning around mouthfuls.
“You want us to find him and rip him apart?” Corvin asks, swiping the back of his hand across his lips, sauce smearing over his cheek. “We could do that. The full moon is coming up. We get mean when that happens. Get kinda vengeful, too.”
“No, don’t hurt him,” I grunt. “I’ll deal with it. In my own way.”
“All right, but you let us know if you change your mind. You really won us over with the marinara.”
“Didn’t know werewolves cared about other people much,” I say, and then add, “Or made such good drinks.”
Marlow winks at me. “Lots of misconceptions about us.”
“Seems so.”
“Some are true, though. We do grow strong and scary on a full moon. Watch out,” Corvin says with an eyebrow wag and a chuckle. “But other than that, we’re nice guys. And the sex is fucking amazing when we’re in true form.”
“Yeah, that’s the truth. Don’t believe the media hype,” Vick says. “I preferred it back in the old days, when information wasn’t so readily available.”
“So, you don’t go around and steal shit from people’s houses?” I ask.
“Oh, we do that, but we gotta live. We don’t have a place right now, so we have to make do,” Vick explains. “Once we have a place and a steady pack, we’ll settle down. Maybe get rid of that shifter who keeps trying to fuck with us once and for all.”
“He needs a life,” Corvin chimes in. “Causing lots of trouble for us. Making us look bad, too.”
“Which shifter?”
“Dunno. Haven’t caught his name.”
I stare at them and then lean back in my chair. “So, what made you wander over into Wolverston? It’s a pretty small town, not much to do and a lot less to see.”
“Visited here in the sixties, loved it. Was a lot smaller back then,” Corvin says. “Had some good memories and thought we’d head back. It’s a little harder to move around discreetly now that everyone has cameras and phones.”
“You guys old, then?” I ask, and Vick nods.
“Older than you, and we’ll live longer too, unless….” His voice trails off, and he hums, meeting the stares of the rest of his pack.
“What? What’s that look for?”
“Unless you want to join us. It’s a simple process, a bite on the full moon. Nothing more.”
I stare at them, my heart rate picking up. That’s insane. No way do I want to become a shifter, let alone a werewolf. I like my boring life just as it is.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
Vick shrugs and goes back to eating. “All right, like I said, let us know if you change your mind. We wouldn’t mind a fourth.”
I’m sure they wouldn’t, but I have no desire to wander around for ages with the three of them. I’d prefer to find an omega who doesn’t knock me out with magical rocks and settle down. Maybe build an addition on my house, have some kids.
I dunno.
I just know I don’t want to be bitten on the full moon.
“So, what are you gonna do when you see your omega at work tomorrow?” Marlow asks.
My mind is pulled back to Arbor, and I meet each and every one of their stares.
“Fuck if I know.”