Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Tempest
When I arrived bleary eyed to the clinic for my morning shift, still recovering from a violent bout of food poisoning that had lasted through the night, I found Fender waiting in the parking lot.
I frowned. I’d seen him yesterday. I knew for a fact we weren’t scheduled for another appointment today.
He started toward me, and I forced a smile in greeting.
It was hard to feel cheerful after hugging the toilet bowl all night.
That’s when I noticed his jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes, they weren’t amber, they were gold…
and glowing. His hands hung loose at his sides.
His wide shoulders were stiff, and his chest heaved with every breath as he closed in on me.
He was a hound, and they were very intense, but I’d never seen him like this before. My belly flip-flopped with unease, and the small kernel of fear that always lived inside me bloomed.
I glanced over my shoulder. I was near the main doors, but I wasn’t sure I’d make it if I ran. I spun back and his step faltered. Then, before my eyes, every part of him visibly relaxed. His eyes were still gold and glowing, but he no longer looked as if he were about to burst out of his skin.
He’d never tried to hurt me before. The odds were good he wouldn’t now, but any sudden moves probably wouldn’t be a good idea. I let my magic swirl inside me, ready for anything. I broadened my smile so he didn’t pick up on the direction of my thoughts. “Hello,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
He stopped in front of me and drew in a breath so deep that his chest expanded to what looked like its limit, then he released it even and slow, but those golden eyes still seemed more.
That gaze, it was primal, gods, animal, and it was locked on me.
Fender took me in from head to foot, then back again.
Even if I was more experienced with social interactions, I doubted I could read the expression on his face and know how to reply.
“I’m fine, Tempest,” he said. “Never better.”
The tone of his voice was weird as well, and I still had no idea what he was doing here. “That’s good,” I said. “Can I help you with something? Are you here to see someone? Do you have questions for me, about our session yesterday?”
“Just passing,” he said.
“Oh…well, it’s nice to see you again.” I beamed at him because he seemed to need it. Usually, when I smiled, he did as well. Not this time. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
His gaze slid to the clinic behind me, and the muscle in his jaw jumped before he looked back down at me. “Yeah, Temp.”
He didn’t sound okay. I turned and saw Mags standing there. She looked very serious, though she smiled and waved as well when she saw me. I waved back and turned to Fender again.
“Are you okay?” he asked before I could say more.
I blinked up at him. I wasn’t sure when the last time anyone had asked me that, well, except for the horrible situation with Raiden here at the clinic.
Mags had taken me aside and asked if I was okay then.
But just randomly like this? Never. I assumed my smile did the talking for me, but obviously not. “Um…yes, I’m definitely okay.”
His nostrils flared, scenting the air again. “You’re afraid.”
He could sense it, of course he could. Crap. “It’s nothing personal,” I said, because it wasn’t. All males scared me to differing degrees.
“I’d never hurt you, Tempest,” he said. “Ever.”
“Like I said, it’s not you, it’s me. But I, ah…appreciate you saying so,” I said stupidly. What else could I say? This whole interaction was highly confusing. He kind of hunched a little. I’d never seen him stand like that before. “Are you in pain?”
“No more than usual,” he said, then looked toward the clinic, then back at me. “I just…I want you to know that if you need any help, with anything, Temp, that I’m here, yeah? Whatever it is, I’m here.”
I blinked up at him. That was an unusual thing to say.
It just confused me more. “Oh…um, thank you.” Did I appear to be someone who needed help?
I was trying so hard to fit in. My heart sank.
I’d obviously been failing at pretending I knew how to do this, how to be around other people.
Apparently you couldn’t learn social skills from watching TV and the internet.
“Why are you asking me that?” I did my best to keep a smile on my face and hoped he didn’t see the way my cheeks were heating.
“No reason, like I said, I was passing and saw you.” His head tilted to the side. “You look a little tired is all—”
“Do I?” My hands went to my face.
“You not get enough sleep last night, Temp? Something on your mind?”
“No, I slept very well.”
That seemed to annoy him.
“Well, I guess I am a little tired,” I said quickly, not wanting him to be annoyed with me.
I was used to keeping things to myself, and he’d caught me off guard.
“I had a restless night. I’m recovering from a…
a stomach upset…” I inwardly cringed. Awesome, now he was probably envisioning me draped over the toilet bowl, or worse, sitting on it. My face flushed hotter.
“You’re sick?”
I squirmed. “I’m almost completely recovered.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Hey, Temp, Jemma’s shift just ended. She wants to do handover,” Mags called.
I gave his arm a gentle squeeze, still feeling out of my depth and befuddled. “I need to get going. Thank you, though…for stopping by.” I hoped I didn’t sound as confused as I felt.
He said nothing, his gaze moving over my face as if looking for something, or maybe he saw something?
I rushed off, not sure what to make of our encounter.
Fender seemed different. I had the unsettling feeling that I’d just been given a test and had failed miserably.
I shoved those thoughts aside as I walked into the clinic.
All day, I thought about Fender waiting for me in the parking lot, the strange look on his face, and the offer of help should I need it.
None of it made sense. I didn’t like feeling confused.
When I didn’t know something, I couldn’t stop until I worked it out.
Unless—was he annoyed that I hadn’t delivered the pies I promised to make him?
I hadn’t made them last night because my Matilda business with Mr. Richards had run longer than I’d expected.
What I’d done didn’t happen often. Matilda only came when she was called, which meant there were families that never received the help or justice they deserved, but if we were confronted with a situation like the one Sheena was in, where children were at risk, and there was no one capable of making the call themselves, we did it for them.
Mr. Richards wouldn’t be hurting anyone ever again.
I sighed. I hated not knowing what that look on Fender’s face meant.
It had to be the pies, right? What else could it be?
I’d picked up the butter I needed, so I had it for later in the week, but surely, he hadn’t expected me to make them the same day?
I wasn’t sure on the etiquette of such things, and I didn’t know how a hellhound’s mind worked.
I rubbed my temples. My brain hurt from thinking about this all day.
The whole interaction had been odd. Even queasy and tired, and lacking any real social skills, I’d recognized that.
There was only one way to figure this out. I’d make the darned pies and take them to him tonight, and if he still seemed upset with me, then I’d just ask him straight out. Magnolia did that all the time. She confronted issues head-on when they arose. I could do that too.
I’d worked another shift at the clinic and didn’t finish until late. We’d lost another wolf to the virus. It hurt. Every loss felt like a failure. Helplessness and exhaustion filled me every day.
Hefting my pies, I hurried along the darkened street.
By the time I’d finished Fender’s pies and headed to the hellhound clubhouse, it was late evening.
I’d made him four pies. Peach and custard, caramel peach crumble, peach maple bourbon brown butter, and plain peach with latticed pastry.
That should satisfy his craving for pie. I hoped so anyway.
The hellhounds lived twenty minutes out of the city by car, but by bus, with all the stops, it had taken closer to forty-five minutes.
I couldn’t use my door handle to get to the clubhouse because the place was filled with hounds and other people coming and going.
I couldn’t risk it. I’d gone to purchase a car yesterday, which would have been helpful about now, but there hadn’t been any blue ones I could afford.
My pies were stacked carefully in their carrier, but they were heavy and the bus stop was at least a mile from the clubhouse.
I sighed in relief as I reached the big gates.
Gripping the bars, I tried to open one. Darn it.
It was locked. I was out of my depth, anxious, and my frustration rose.
What the heck should I do? I stared at the clubhouse through the fence, then back down the street, chewing my lip.
I didn’t cry. I never cried. But my eyes stung.
None of that silliness. All you have to do is put a smile on your dial and everything will be okay.
My mother’s voice filled my mind, and the urge to cry increased.
“Temp, hey,” a deep voice said.
I spun back. Brick, one of the younger hounds, was striding toward me. Blinking rapidly, I smiled brightly. “Hello, Brick.”
He unlocked the gate without me asking to be let in. “You here for Fender?” he asked as he held it open.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I made him some pies and wanted to deliver them.”
Brick’s lips peeled back in a dazzling smile. “You made him pies?”
“He told me he had a fondness for peach pie, and I promised I’d make him some.”
His gaze flicked down to my carrier and back up. “You gonna make me a pie, Temp?”
I blinked up at him. “Um…if you’d like. What’s your favorite?”
“I like any pie. You make it, I’ll love it.”