Chapter 7
After abandoning that pesky ghost outside a distant diner, I selected the scenic route in search of adventure. Once in a while, I spotted Shifters out for a run, a Mage flashing by, or a Chitah scaling a tree. I often imagined what the world might be like if we didn’t have to live in secret.
Rural life took getting used to. I hated wildlife and the lack of entertainment options, but nothing topped the peace and quiet of a ghostless home.
To keep it interesting, I relied on town gossip.
Dragonfly’s had its own share of excitement, luring out-of-towners who were in search of a classy hangout where they didn’t know anyone.
When I returned home, someone had put Lakota in charge of the menu, so we dined on frozen fish sticks, hush puppies, and bland salad.
Tak and Hope were enjoying their own three-course meal in the heat house, and I had a feeling there would be more courses to follow. Not everyone was home yet, so I watched the kids. After putting Jasper down for the night, I sat with Violet’s wolf at the table and sneaked her scraps.
Usually, after she fell asleep, her wolf came out.
Oh, they tried getting her to shift more in the daytime so her wolf wouldn’t be active all night, but there was no bargaining with a toddler.
Vampires didn’t sleep, so Atticus watched her.
But on the nights he worked late or had to leave town, Joy stayed up all night, since she couldn’t just let the puppy run unsupervised while she slept.
The pack often stepped in to help out whenever possible.
I secured my arm around the wiggly wolf, who was sitting on my lap and sniffing my empty plate. Melody collected more dishes, and as soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, I snatched another hush puppy from the basket.
The white pup practically inhaled it.
“You love Uncle Virgil, don’t you?”
She licked my chin.
“Why do you smell like sugar cookies?”
Shifter wolves didn’t smell as pungent as wild ones, but we still possessed our own unique scent.
Violet was the first Shifter pup I’d ever heard about, so I guessed it had to do with her age.
Despite her being mischievous and hyperactive, she was an old soul who once belonged to Joy, so it would take Violet a few years yet to catch up to her wolf’s emotional intelligence.
Melody returned, her freshly dyed hair hanging past her shoulders in gentle waves. “Did you give her another hush puppy?”
I scoffed. “What her parents don’t know won’t hurt them.”
When I heard Joy’s bubbly laugh coming from the kitchen and realized they were home, I heaved a sigh, knowing that Atticus likely heard me.
Melody clucked her tongue before collecting the basket.
“Fun’s over, Purple Rain.” I set the pup on the floor. “Go see Mommy.”
She yipped excitedly and scampered underneath the table.
When Joy breezed into the room, her blue eyes sparkled at the sight of her daughter.
“Mommy missed you!” She scooped up her little one.
Violet’s pup hadn’t grown much since birth.
She was slightly bigger and not as clumsy, but the growth process was slower since she was only a toddler.
Violet licked her mom’s face and jaw while Joy giggled.
I smiled inquisitively. “How was your date?”
“Heavenly. Atticus ordered breakfast for dinner and spoiled me rotten. Did she sleep at all?”
I yawned noisily. “No, but Jazz is out like a light.”
“Alone?”
“Robyn’s with him.”
Joy’s blue nail polish stood out against Violet’s white fur. “Are Hope and Tak still—”
“Fornicating in the heat house?”
Joy sniffed her daughter’s mouth. “What did she eat?”
“The chicken and carrots Bear left in the fridge.”
Atticus appeared and gave me a thorny look before directing his attention to Violet, who wiggled excitedly at the sight of him. “Come to Papa.” Atticus cradled her before tenderly kissing Joy. “I’ll sit with her. Take all the time you need, my lady.”
She clutched his arm while they gazed lovingly at Violet. “Wonderful. I’m dying for a bath.” After kissing his neck, she made her way out.
Atticus could lecture me later about the hush puppies.
I headed into the living room. Parents were killjoys with too many restrictions.
So what if I wanted to spoil the kids? My only childhood toys were a doll and a wooden horse, and sometimes I went to bed hungry.
Working-class homes didn’t have the luxury of childhoods.
I plopped down on the leather sofa and admired Quinn’s masterpiece. She sold her glass creations at Moonglow, but lately, people had been commissioning her for windows.
Melody and Joy chatted quietly while heading into the art room.
Staring at the window, I wondered what was keeping Krys. He was supposed to pick Cleo up and come straight home, but neither was here, so they must’ve gone to the Rabbit Lounge.
When will these feelings ever end?
I’d had a crush on Krys since the moment we met on the bus. Straight guys turned me on. The more mysterious, the better. Archer and I connected immediately, so I got to know Krys through him, since they did everything together. Going with Archer meant Krys tagging along. So we went out.
A lot.
I thought the attraction would inevitably fade once I discovered his bad habits, but it grew to a punishing degree. Some men thought about the Roman Empire at least once a day. Krys was my Roman Empire.
We couldn’t be more opposite. I was upbeat, eccentric, the life of the party. Krys was distant and moody. He got along with others on a superficial level, but he didn’t discuss anything deeply personal, which made him harder to know.
He was like a box of Cracker Jack. Dry with a delicious exterior, a few nuts, and if you dig deep enough, you might discover a prize.
I owned a T-shirt that said Introvert, and while I wasn’t introverted, I liked the juxtaposition.
Why are we so quick to label people when we know them on only a surface level?
Labels make others comfortable shelving you, and Virgil Nightingale doesn’t fit neatly in any one box.
We’re all a little crazy, serious, beautiful, ugly, complicated, simple, loving, and cruel.
And with my being a crossbreed, people felt comfortable only when they could label me.
Quinn understood, since she was part Sensor, but Sensors were historically given more respect than Gravewalkers.
I closed my eyes. For whatever reason, Krys’s long hair sprang to mind.
God, I love long hair.
Maybe that was the attraction. Then again, his affinity for leathers never helped matters.
In the early days, I couldn’t wait to get out of the house and hook up with the locals. And I did. I’d gained quite the reputation at Dragonfly’s. It distracted me from thinking about Krys but never for long.
Over the past three years, we’d become close friends.
I used to hang out with Archer more in the beginning, but that changed after he married Cecilia.
Now Krys and I were best buds. We hung out, played games, worked on projects, and took the occasional trip with a packmate to Austin or Waco to drink or gather supplies.
Sometimes we caught a flick at the theater.
He had a habit of cracking pistachios during the movie, which annoyed people sitting around us.
That bond overruled my physical attraction. It didn’t erase it, but getting to know Krys on a personal level changed how I thought about him. The sexual fantasies diminished, and we eased into a comfortable relationship.
There were times I wondered what it might feel like if he put his arms around me.
The closest I’d come was after the snakebite when we were riding bareback on Tak’s horse.
Sometimes, when I was feeling especially alone, I thought about his arms locked securely around me.
Too bad I was in so much pain that I couldn’t appreciate it at the time.
Women were supposed to be the ones who swooned, but thinking about how his wolf guarded me afterward made my belly tingle.
I stared listlessly at the opposite couch.
Maybe I should leave the pack. This isn’t going to end well, and I’m torturing myself.
“Don’t stress,” Melody said from behind me. “Nobody ever gets it right on the first try.”
I gave a fiendish grin and reclined my head to look at them. “Those words remind me of my first sexual experience.”
Joy frowned at a folded quilt in her arms. “The threads are hanging everywhere, and the lines are uneven. It’s terrible. I used the spare fabric you gave me, but I hate the pattern I chose.”
I thrust my arms out. “Gimme. I love all things unique and unwanted.”
She tossed the quilt onto my head. I pulled it across my lap and reviewed her work. Sure, it was tattered like my jeans and not well stitched, but it was colorful, warm, and made with love.
Joy sat next to me. “Oh, it’s unique all right. I had all these fantasies about starting my own business someday, making quilts, but it’ll take me decades to learn.”
Melody sat on the couch arm. “I always had an eye for fashion, but I didn’t pop out of the womb knowing how to sew, sketch, or create patterns.
Mistakes were made, but I also started young and had a lot of experienced people helping me.
I read fashion and craft books, watched instructional videos, and practiced over and over.
Running the store was stressful, but we had experienced family members helping us.
Everything you do in life takes practice. Hours and hours of practice.”
I put my arm around Joy, and the light fragrance of roses swirled around me. “Why quilts?”
Joy stroked the fabric and gave a plaintive sigh. “Because everyone needs a pretty blanket, and quilters in our world make decent money. Some of them make memory quilts using material provided by the customer.”
“But you knit all those little hats and scarves. Do what you’re good at.”