Page 26 of Bewitched by the Werewolf (The Bewitching Hour #5)

This is too much fun. I thought once I found a werewolf, or shifter as Ryder calls himself, it would be like caging a wild beast. Tranquilizer darts, cages and chains.

Instead, I’m exchanging sexually charged banter with a sexy sheriff.

He infuriates me with his continued reluctance to answer my questions and tell me what I want to know.

But I’ll admit, I like the route I’m taking to get there.

Though his demand that I can’t speak to anyone without him is new. It’s very alpha of him.

I wonder if shifters have alphas like wolves do.

It’s been a topic of conversation with bloggers if werewolves have any sort of societal structure.

Many think they’re lone creatures created accidentally when a shifted werewolf comes across a human and bites them.

I never fully believed that story. Now that I have Ryder, I believe it even less.

He said he wasn’t bitten and isn’t a wild beast, so that’s two for two wrong.

It still doesn’t explain the creatures—that now I assume were shifters—when I was ten.

They barreled through those campgrounds growling, snarling and biting at each other.

Maybe they were in each other’s territory or something?

I mentally add it to my growing list of questions for Ryder, once he decides to finally answer them.

I know he will. I’ll break him one way or another.

Right now, it seems a good way to get under his skin is to openly talk to people in town about shifters. I’ll continue to refer to them as werewolves for now, since that term is more common and known to most. Perhaps if I talk to enough people and push his buttons hard enough, he’ll crack.

I stroll into Sticky Buns, the best bakery in the world in my opinion, and head straight for the counter to order a snack. Can’t go snooping in search of answers on an empty stomach. Arguing with a shifter makes a girl hungry.

The brunette wearing glasses behind the counter greets me, the name tag on her apron reading Calliope.

She’s all easy smiles as she takes my order, a blueberry muffin and apple fritter, along with a glass of orange juice.

Arguing makes me thirsty too. I find a seat at a small round table in the center of the shop and sit.

From here I can get a good look at everyone around me and have the added benefit of being able to see straight out the front windows to Ryder, still standing across the street glaring.

I give him a wide grin and a wink. I know he can see me just fine, even from that far away.

Sitting, I sip at my orange juice and take a large, hefty bite of my muffin.

I have to stifle a moan it’s so good. In three bites I’ve managed to devour half of it, and it’s right when I’m about to take another bite I spot a couple entering the shop.

A tall broad-shouldered man who looks like he could be Ryder’s more clean-cut twin, and the tall beautiful blonde woman I saw before.

I take a closer look and realize; I was not mistaken before when I thought she looked a lot like the pop star Alexandria.

Pulling out my phone, I set down my muffin momentarily to search for images of Alexandria to compare.

Discreetly holding the phone up I conclude that it is her, just with shorter hair.

Why the fuck is she in Snowberry? I scroll through a few articles and none of them say anything about her being here or anywhere.

There’s only one that talks about her taking an extended vacation after her last tour, somewhere exclusive and private.

Either she lied, or it’s a cover to conceal where she really is.

From the lack of bodyguards and assistants, I’m going to go with she lied and is hiding out.

Why she’s hiding out, I have no idea. The woman literally has the kind of money that could buy a small country.

They both get in line to order and when the Ryder look-a-like steps away and exits the shop I take that as my opportunity to pry her with questions.

Nothing about her being Alexandria of course, if the woman wants her privacy she can have it.

I’m not a gossip columnist. I don’t care why she’s here.

I just want to know if she’s seen anything regarding werewolves since she’s been here.

I wasn’t lying when I told Ryder I’m more likely to get a straight answer from and out of towner.

I saunter up to the counter, glancing out the window to spot the man who just left crossing the street towards Ryder. Maybe they are related.

Alexandria is too preoccupied ordering when I approach to notice me. I set one hand on the counter and the other on my hip trying to appear casual and friendly, so she’ll open up to me.

“Hi there,” I say drawing both women’s attention.

“Hello,” the most likely Alexandria responds.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” I have to make sure I’m right in assuming this or my line of questioning will go nowhere fast.

“No. Well, not yet. I’m considering relocating, though.”

Interesting. I purse my lips and nod at her then glance over at the girl behind the counter Calliope. They’re both looking at me a little wide eyed and befuddled. Right. Be more amiable.

“I’m Tess,” I begin, hoping introducing myself will soften them up a bit. “Also, not a local. Just visiting. I heard this is a great place to view next week’s blood moon.”

Might as well stick with the lie I started with. I extend out my hand and she awkwardly accepts it. Her grip is like a doll’s, dainty and weak. Maybe she’s not the famous pop star Alexandria after all. She never struck me as weak. Either way, doesn’t matter, she isn’t a local, so I dive right in.

“So, have either of you seen anything strange around town lately?”

“Um, like what?” Calliope asks.

“Oh, you know, weird things. People doing weird stuff, acting odd. Maybe people with weird markings or strange creatures in the woods at night?”

They both stare at me, mirror expressions of deer in the headlights. Maybe I was too vague? Maybe they need more clarification?

“I don’t think so,” Alexandria replies, her voice a little squeaky. She looks nervous, I think she knows something.

“So, no werewolves then?”

“What?!” The blonde’s voice raises in pitch and her one-word response is so abrupt, I know I’ve touched on a sensitive subject. She’s definitely hiding something, and not just her identity.

“You know, hairy beasts that change under the full moon and hunt people for sport.”

Alexandria and Calliope exchange glances again, like they’re trying to communicate with one another. Either questioning each other if I’m crazy, or how to lie about knowing there are werewolves—AKA shifters—in town.

“No, no werewolves or anything of the sort,” Calliope finally answers, nervous laughter tinging her voice. “Nothing like that around here.”

I am not convinced. They way she says it is like a bad actress in a black and white movie.

“Nope, haven’t heard of such a thing since I’ve been here,” Alexandria adds.

These two are definitely lying, but about what?

I straighten from my casual pose and tap a finger on the white stone countertop.

I want to ask more, but I catch a glimpse of the man who arrived with Alexandria returning to the shop from across the street.

Time to go. I’ll have to try these two again later.

“Oh, okay. Well, if you hear anything let me know. I’ll be around for a while. Thanks anyways.”

I rap a knuckle on the counter and quickly return to my table, reclining in my chair nonchalantly hoping the man who obviously knows Ryder doesn’t suspect me of knowing who he’s really with.

I don’t look back out the window until the pair settle at a table towards the rear of the shop.

Ryder is pacing back and forth like a caged animal, only he’s not caged.

He can leave whenever he wants. He glances over in the middle of his pacing, and I waggle my fingers at him and stick out my tongue for good measure.

His pacing stops and his entire body shifts to face me, his shoulders rolling back and he looks massive from this angle.

He has to work out a lot to get a physique like that, there’s no way that’s just natural because he’s a shifter.

Or maybe it is. I have no freaking idea.

This whole concept of shifter and not werewolf is still foreign.

I have no idea how many difference there could be between the two.

Maybe I should write down all my questions and observations.

That’s what I should be doing, recording everything to share later.

For some reason I haven’t put any of this on paper or in writing yet.

I haven’t even updated by blog to share that I’ve actually found a real “werewolf” or that they prefer to be called shifters.

Telling myself I haven’t done it yet because I don’t have proof.

Anyone can post anything on the internet and say it’s true, but no one will believe it without photographs or video.

Even then most don’t believe it. We have too many computer programs and software that can fake it.

Make those deep fake ai videos that are always confusing people online nowadays.

I hate those fucking ai videos. Not only because they’re awful, but because they’re lies.

They create doubt and confusion and spread false information.

I’ve seen videos of alien autopsies so convincing it had me questioning if it were fake or not.

How are we supposed to know what’s real and what’s not anymore?

Again, not for the first time, I question why I’m still doing this.

Why I’m still spending the little money I have, to hunt for a mythical creature that no one will believe I’ve found, even if I have one hundred percent real proof.

What else am I supposed to do with my life if I’m not hunting werewolves?

It’s the only thing I know how to do. I didn’t go to college, I didn’t learn a trade.

I have nothing to fall back on. I’d end up in retail or working at a fast-food restaurant, neither of which sound appealing.

Maybe I could be a private investigator.

I’ve definitely got the snooping around part down.

I’m great at lying to people to get them to believe me.

I could expose cheating husbands and wives and help find lost dogs or something.

I know how to track animals, maybe I could join the park rangers.

Then I could start looking for big foot and yetis while getting paid.

Big foot was never my obsession though. A large hairy monkey-man, who just walks aimlessly through the wilderness never appealed to my curiosity.

Sighing I finish my muffin and start in on the apple fritter.

It’s delicious and yet, I feel it’s lost its appeal with my souring realization that I basically have no future.

Whatever, I have here and now, and I can at least finish what I started before I start worrying about what comes next.

I was never a what comes next, kind of girl.

I’m a focused on the present kind of person.

So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to prove that what I’ve searched for, for the last twenty years is real.

After that? I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.