Chapter 21
Christine
Thirty minutes had passed.
Thirty full minutes of me not being able to open my mouth or utter a word. Thirty full minutes of sitting next to Steven in the passenger seat while he drove. Thirty minutes of keeping my hands fisted and my dealing with being completely lightheaded.
And thirty ugly minutes of wanting to ask him a million questions while also longing to find the strength to punch his lights out.
I’d left my parents’ house in a fog, incapable of putting more than a few coherent words together.
But I did remember telling Steven to take me home.
Honestly, I might have stayed with my parents had it not been for the fact I’d never hear the end of being so stupid.
“A wolf,” I finally said.
“Yep.” Now he was the one popping the p.
“As in a shifter.”
“Yes.”
“As in a guy who can turn into a creature at the drop of a hat.”
He laughed. “Well, it’s been a little while so I might need five minutes or so, but yes.”
“That’s why you were championing shifters.” Well, duh. I’d been such an idiot.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Apparently, I was still a little intoxicated because my thoughts and emotions were dull. So much so I leaned my head against the back of the seat, staring out the window. “Why lie?”
“I already told you why.”
“A werewolf.”
Now he laughed. “You’re an intelligent woman. Do I look like a werewolf to you?”
“No, but up until an hour ago, you didn’t look anything but human.”
“I am human.”
A cough left my throat before I could stop it. “Right.”
“Look at me.”
“I’ve seen you.”
“Would you look at me?”
I folded my arms in protest.
“Look at me.”
“Don’t use that tone of voice with me.” But his deep, husky voice made me look at him.
With the lights of the city flashing by, he was completely illuminated by intense shimmers.
That man was without a doubt the very fantasy man most women would beg to have grace the covers of romance novels and magazines and he was sitting in the seat next to me.
Rugged.
Handsome.
Dangerous.
My gaze fell from his eyes to his lips, my heart aching as much as my pussy was throbbing.
I found myself roaming his body with a gaze that left a trail of desire.
He had the kind of hair you wanted to spend hours running your fingers through, a wry smile highlighting a powerful chiseled jaw and high cheekbones.
Then there were his eyes. They were so blue, so luminous I could almost see through them.
His body was… just amazing.
I would know since we’d… Since I’d enjoyed…
“Do I look like some werewolf planning on eating you alive?” he countered, huffing under his breath as soon as he did.
“I don’t know. Even in the movies, werewolves appear very normal until the moon shines bright and the hunger settles in. Then they rip people apart.”
He leaned over the dashboard, glancing at the moon. “We have a full moon.”
“Not quite.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Christine. Are you afraid of me?”
“Should I be?”
Every sigh was heavy and I honestly had no idea how to process the volume of information. “That’s up to you. How can I prove to you that I’m not going to eat you alive?”
“Shift.”
He huffed, half laughing, half choking. “Right now?”
“There’s no time like the present.”
I wasn’t certain if he was debating doing so and I honestly had no idea what would happen if he did.
“I’m not going to shift, Christine. I can assure you that we don’t shift by the full moon.
There are no cycles in nature that tempt us.
In fact, we can go for years without shifting, but doing so is freeing for us.
We rarely find the time or extend the effort.
And since doing so is obviously more dangerous for us, we’ve learned to control the urges. ”
“So you run around all furry in your house from time to time?”
He offered a sly look. “Maybe. I even sit on the porch in the morning and let it all hang out.” He laughed.
I didn’t.
“Oh, come on. Are you seriously asking me these questions?”
“Well, up until tonight, I was still hoping that the discovery of shifters was some big joke.”
“You know what? I wouldn’t mind if we could go back to living the way we were.
We were much happier not being in the limelight.
Not being hounded by people in the press acting as if we’re dangerous to their pets and small children.
It would be great not to have someone like your father look at me as if I was trash.
I’d love to be able to go into the rink without seeing signs that question whether I should even be allowed to breathe, let alone play sports. ”
I hadn’t thought about what he must have gone through. “Does that really happen?”
His laugh wasn’t just bitter. It was horrifying. “Haven’t you seen the signs at the arena?”
“This past Wednesday, yes. I noticed they were there, but I didn’t read them.”
“Well,” he chortled. “Take the time when you come on Wednesday to see what they’re saying about the brand-new Gators player.
It doesn’t matter that my brother is a friggin’ hockey star who singlehandedly won the Stanley Cup for the Chicago Wild Dogs.
Or that I’ve been compared to him, but many coaches say I’m even a better player.
And before you ask, I don’t use my special attributes.
Ever. That’s something my brother pioneered last year.
He had to. He was treated as if he was a freak so he had to prove he could play hockey without using his shifter abilities.
You have no idea how difficult that was for him. ”
He snarled and in an act of aggression that wasn’t geared toward me, he smashed his fist on the steering wheel.
Right now, although I had no idea what to say to him, I hated the silence. “How long have you played hockey?”
He seemed relieved I was curious about a sport I thought I hated. Well, I did hate it, but the reasoning now seemed silly. His face lit up.
“Since I was two years old. Believe it or not, there’s a picture of me in tiny little skates.
My dad had made me a hockey stick after I broke my mother’s long ruler.
Even then, I wanted to be like my brother Saint, who adored hockey.
I was always on the ice. It’s in my blood.
” He rubbed his hand across his jaw. “Just like being a shifter.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t seen you play.”
“The first game is tomorrow night, believe it or not. Right now? I’m playing like shit. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m missing my family in Chicago. But you don’t need to hear my sob shit. Why did your mother insist you can’t skate?”
It was my turn to shy away from the truth and I wasn’t certain why. “I had a bad fall and she worries.”
“Could have fooled me. And that was shitty of me.”
“No, Steven. Very accurate. What about the Today Show?”
“I’m sure you’ll find it archived somewhere, but your father tried to pit brother against brother on national television. Because of that, my brother didn’t talk to me until recently. People like your father are trying to pick fights so we’ll shift and terrify people.”
“To give his crusade credibility.”
“Exactly.”
I pulled out my phone. “So if I look you up, I’ll find you on social media?”
Every time he snorted, a strange tingle drifted down my spine.
That was silly, but it had occurred more than once.
“You will, but it’s mostly shit. According to the media manager, who is a real ball buster too, I’m being remade into something I’m not.
Something salable to the public. Anyway, do me a favor and don’t look. ”
“Now I need to look.” I flipped through the screens, moving to Instagram. As soon as he noticed I was searching, he reached over, trying to grab the phone from me. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
“Come on. Don’t look. I’m not that person. Not really anyway.”
But I did look and after struggling to deal with the fact he’d lied to me about who and what he was, seeing him with a beer bong wasn’t what I’d hoped to see. “Is that Jell-O?” I asked and even in the darkness, I could see him cringe.
“Like I said, I’m not that guy. I’m trying to clean up my act so maybe I’ll get a few sponsors. As if that’s going to happen. At least you know why our social media guru had placed a moratorium on what I post.”
“Yeah, I can see why.” I wasn’t exactly angry, but I wasn’t the kind of girl who could handle worrying about whether he was enjoying the comfort of another woman. And I certainly didn’t look like the girls in the photographs.
How weird. I was freaking jealous.
“I’m sorry about my father. He’s a horrible man.”
“Yeah, well, I can handle it. What I can’t handle is losing you.”
Sighing, I didn’t know what to say. Hell, I didn’t know what to feel at this point.
“Maybe you could come see me play sometime.”
The thought of being in the arena while he was playing wasn’t tolerable. At least not right now. Not until I made peace with everything.
If that was even possible.
“Maybe.” Maybe I was a glutton for punishment, but I kept scrolling, going down worm holes when finding his name. “You’re popular.”
“Read some of the comments.”
So I did. Some were all about the women who wanted to have his babies. A few mentioned he had two cocks. When I dared glance between his legs, he laughed.
“See what I mean? At least you can provide proof that the rumor isn’t accurate. I don’t have two cocks.” His laugh died off when I didn’t join him.
But that was what they’d assumed. Did people not know their biology about animals? Were they that stupid? I was almost incensed for him.
Almost.
Then I came back to the fact he’d lied to me about some pretty serious aspects of his person. And he’d had the chance to rectify them several times and had chosen not to. I couldn’t say anything, continuing scrolling. I also found connections to his brother and shifted to Saint Masters’ page.
Both men had fans who couldn’t care less they were shifters and others who thought they should be hunted down like wild animals.
And the comments made my stomach turn.
You should be in jail.