Page 16

Chapter Sixteen

T he wedding was simple compared to the dinner the night before. The small church was bursting as everyone crowded in, waiting for the bride to come down the aisle. Zephin Clay sat in a side aisle with a few of my father’s other Elven friends, sticking up in the crowd of gnomes. Cross blended in slightly better since my brothers transitioned to the truly short gnomes.

Bram stood at the front, adjusting his tie nervously, his eyes slightly wild until the music started, and the doors opened. Gloria wasn’t fussy, and neither were her dress or flowers. She looked like she owned the dress instead of the dress owning her, and her confidence and self-assurance were exactly what Bram needed to help him relax.

“She’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“Mm.” Cross squeezed my hand and for a moment, I felt like a part of my family instead of an outsider. He made me feel normal, safe, like I belonged.

Bram read his vows, fumbling on the words as he gazed earnestly at his sweetheart. And then my skin started to itch.

I frowned down at my hands where my beast’s claws were pressing against the pads of my fingers. No. This wasn’t happening. I was in control of my beast, truly. I could willfully shift one nail or just my head. There was no way that I’d lose control, particularly not in the middle of the wedding. I looked up at Cross, desperate, and his eyes narrowed back at me in concern.

“I’m not feeling well,” I whispered while my eyes watered and the urge to shift into a beast grew as irresistibly as the need to sneeze in a dusty room. I had to leave, now, in the middle of the ceremony, with my brothers sitting next to us, blocking the aisle.

I pressed my lips together and started climbing over their knees while my beast flexed under my skin. I kept my face down, hoping that no one noticed anything weird going on as the bones shifted.

When I hit the aisle, I ran, ignoring the looks I got as I raced out and burst into the bathroom. My beast exploded, ripping through my lovely dress and shedding the humanity and the civilization, and leaving me shuddering and panting on the tile floor. What was wrong with me? My beast never came out like that, even before I learned to control the triad. I shuddered again, my spine snapping as my beast filled up the bathroom, stretching and flailing, my limbs all over the place, slapping the tile painfully. I tried to breathe steadily, but the beast wasn’t just the beast, it was sick, convulsing, out-of-control. I couldn’t lose control, not here, not now, but I did anyway.

“Delphi?” my mother asked, opening the door.

“Don’t come in!” I growled and scrambled for the window, my claws sliding over the slick tile.

“Dear, are you sick?” she called through the crack.

The window was high and small. Could my beast fit out of it? I grabbed the lever and ripped it off the frame. I stared at the small piece of metal stupidly. I’d broken it. I tossed it over my shoulder and clawed at the frame, leaving deep runes in the metal.

“Don’t come in,” I growled again, trying to get the stupid window to just open. My beast’s claws weren’t dexterous enough, and even if they were, the latch was broken and…

My mother’s gasp had me turning to stare at the gnome, who stood with slack mouth, hands limp at her sides, her purse on the ground, the contents spilled over the tile.

My dad was behind her, visible through the open door. He came in and closed the door behind him, frowning coldly at me.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, and pulled out a gun.

Seriously? He’s going to shoot me? And why would he be carrying at Bram’s wedding? I almost laughed. Everything was so ridiculous. And impossible. “Let me explain,” I rumbled through my distended jaws. “It’s me.” Could they understand that garbling?

My mother’s face was still blank with horror and shock. Werewolves were death to gnomes. Also, I’d let her think werewolves kidnapped me out of my school to keep me with those other poor women.

My drool was getting all over the place, drool that might infect them. I turned and lunged for the window, clawing my way through and breaking out the frame while I scrabbled my feet, trying to get purchase on the wall.

A gun went off, and I felt a burn through my back before I came out of the window, tumbling headfirst into some very prickly rose bushes. I gritted my teeth so I wouldn’t howl from the pain and frustration. It was still before noon, and people were starting to leave the church. I’d missed the end of the wedding. I wanted to cry, but werewolves don’t cry.

No one could see me. I had to run far away and never come back. Except that Cross already knew what I was. And he could fish the bullet out of me. He’d been sleeping in the barn, so that’s where I’d go.

I limped a run, holding to the shadows as much as I could, calling on the mystery and confusion of my elf magic to help camouflage me as I raced, leaving the shredded dress in scraps behind me. My beast was fast, even if I was bleeding heavily from the chest wound. My dad had shot me. He hadn’t waited to see if I was a threat, just shot the werewolf because all werewolves are evil and dangerous, deadly dangerous to gnomes. That last bit was true. If I’d infected my mother, she’d be dead. I never should have come and put all the other gnomes in danger. I trusted myself, my control, but I’d lost it in the middle of the crowded wedding. I was so stupid!

I finally got to the barn, found the darkest corner behind a pile of hay that smelled like Cross, and crouched down to wait. While I waited, I reached back, claws extended, and dug into the flesh until I found the huge bullet and ripped it out. There was so much werewolf blood, but I kept it all in the corner so it could be washed down easily. Eventually, the beast subsided, and then it was gone, leaving me in tatters of my pretty floral dress. I crouched there, barefoot, arms wrapped around my knees while I felt my back knit slowly together. It hadn’t been a silver bullet. At least that was something.

“Delphinia?” Cross murmured from outside the small stall where I crouched.

I sighed shakily. “Hi.”

He moved into the stall door, a tall shadow in the back reaches of my parent’s barn. “You left a trail of blood.”

I whispered, “My dad shot me. He didn’t ask questions, just shot me right in the back. I think he might have hit my heart. That would explain how much blood…” I took a shaky breath, but I didn’t stand up. I was just going to stay in a crumpled up pile for the rest of my life.

“I don’t think that they know it was you,” he said carefully. “If you’d like to get cleaned up, you can?—”

“Pretend like I’m not a monster that puts all their lives in danger by existing? No. I’m going to tell them. They can write me off as dead and I won’t have to pretend to be normal. Win-win.” I sobbed once before I got myself under control.

Cross came in, shut the stall door behind him and moved slowly towards me before he crouched so our knees touched. I pulled away, because his suit was going to get ruined, like my dress.

“Delphinia, you aren’t putting them in danger. You weren’t ever going to hurt them, and you aren’t contagious. I know your blood, your transformation, and it’s not communicable.”

I looked up at him, frowning. “That’s what you think, but my beast is experimental. Who knows what I really am? You were so stupid to eat that brownie.”

“It wasn’t stupid. It was the best brownie I’ve ever had. It would be worth dying to eat your baked goods, but death was never an option, and neither was werewolfism. You can’t infect me, no matter how many times you bite me. You’ve bitten me a lot of times in the past, remember?”

I put my face down on my knees, because I didn’t want to remember, the pain of shifting, the betrayal of him, injecting me with horrible poisons that made me so sick so I’d transition slow enough to stay alive, to stay in control. “It doesn’t matter. My dad shot me.”

He carefully put his coat over my back, his touch so gentle, careful. “Elves are heartless and cruel. Do you need a hug?”

I looked up to glare at him. “No. I don’t need you to get your suit dirty coming down to my level. I don’t need the cruel, perfect, pretty, delicate elf to condescend to the messed up, disgusting monster you made me when you wouldn’t let me die.”

He pulled me into his lap, sitting on the dirty boards with me pressed against his chest, his head bent over me as he stared into my eyes. His eyes were dark, intent, his killer mask in place. “Cruel, absolutely. Delicate, not remotely. And you are so far from disgusting, the idea is laughable. You, Delphinia,” he murmured, brushing my cheek with his fingertips. “Are absolutely delicious.” He smiled slightly, a dangerous smile that made me gasp, and then he lowered his lips to mine.

The shock of contact went through me like lightning, but instead of pulling away, I wrapped my arms around him and dove into that kiss, into his strength, the taste, the feel of him, like he was a new skein of cashmere yarn, only better.

He tasted woodsy, how you’d think an elf would taste, but with this sweetness that was maddeningly addictive. I pressed against him until his back thumped against the wall of the stall as he lost his balance, and then we fell over sideways onto the pile of straw. I whimpered as the movement tore my barely healed flesh.

“Delphinia, are you all right?” he asked, trying to straighten away from me, looking concerned.

I stared up at him while my heart pounded. He was my protector. He would try to protect me from everything, even the wounds in my heart. Although the literal ones too. He couldn’t really want me. It wasn’t possible, and yet, I needed to feel wanted.

“Cross, can you pretend to want me for a while longer?”

“I am officially, unduly provoked,” he said, and then he picked me up and placed me squarely on the pile of straw on his jacket and then he covered me, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me with his whole soul.

It was the perfect meeting of two mouths wrapped in a tangled embrace, hunger and passion sweeping away all the hurt and misery, drowning me in bone-melting pleasure. I was lost in him, completely, absolutely, deliciously lost, when the light came on, and someone cursed.

I wrapped my arms around Cross’s neck and held him tight. Maybe whoever it was would go away.

“The blood trail leads here,” Bram said in a low voice. “Do you think it ate the ponies?”

Cross stayed very still on top of me, and then his lips moved to my jaw, and then the side of my neck, and my eyes fluttered closed while the sensations drowned me.

Penn answered, “No, they’re still here, sleepy, fat, oblivious.”

“If it really got Delphi…” Bram’s voice was tight. Penn didn’t answer while I fought with the guilt, thinking that my brothers were worried about me, but my dad had shot me. I’d tried to explain, but no one wanted to listen. If they were really worried about me, they wouldn’t shoot.

Cross’s lips found my shoulder, which had no annoying fabric blocking his delicious mouth. His hand smoothed my arm while his lips moved back up to my neck. I shifted underneath him, rustling the hay until I froze.

I couldn’t hear Bram or Penn. Had they left the barn? They’d left the light on. I was starting to relax when the stall door burst open and I found myself facing down another gun, but Bram was holding it this time.

His eyes widened in shock, and Penn grabbed the gun, moving it away from us.

Penn started to smile. “You’re okay? Did you hear that there was a werewolf sighted at the wedding? Dad shot it, but… You don’t care. You two crazy lovebirds.” Penn tried to shut the door, but Bram hit it, knocking it back open.

“What’s wrong with you, Delphi?” he grumbled, hands on his hips as he glared at me, Cross, and me again. “You’re just going to stay there in that position? Don’t you have any decency?”

I looked up at Bram from my position covered by Cross who had one hand beneath me on my back, no doubt to put pressure on my bullet wound, and also, to keep my brothers from seeing that I wasn’t wearing anything but his jacket. I rose up on my elbows and Cross shifted his weight off me while he studied me, a question in his eyes. The look in the elf’s eyes was more intense, more bare and soul-wrenchingly real than anything I’d ever seen in him before. He didn’t care that Bram was there, or that we’d been caught in a compromising position, or that the world was burning and everything was lost. He wanted to know what I wanted, whether to proclaim that I was a werewolf, or if I wanted to use him to help them believe I was the same sister they’d always known. Whatever I needed, or wanted, that’s what he would make happen.

My heart thrummed, and I felt like I was burning, filled with an unquenchable fire that would devour both of us.

“You left in the middle of the ceremony,” Bram continued, sounding hurt. “Is it morning sickness? Did this pasty pansy get you knocked up? If he did, you’re getting married yesterday.”

I winced. “This is ridiculous. Cross, I need to tell them the truth.”

“No, you don’t. They don’t deserve the truth.”

I smiled at him and touched his cheek. He was so pretty. “Bram, Penn, I’m a werewolf. My beast came out during your wedding, and that’s why I left. I’m not pregnant with Cross’s baby.” So humiliating to have to say that out loud, although who would blame me? Not my mother, that’s for sure.

Bram’s face was kind of humorously shocked. “You’re not a werewolf.”

I tapped on Cross’s shoulder, and he finally rolled off me, leaving me in his jacket and the tattered remains of my dress.

“Delphi, your dress! What did he do to you?”

They weren’t going to understand unless they saw the wolf staring them in the face. I shifted into my adorable wolf and climbed out of my dress. I hopped on Cross’s lap and snuggled against his chest, trying not to notice the way my brothers were staring at me, their faces going various shades of purple as they worked through their extremely strong emotions.

“This isn’t real,” Bram finally said to Cross, his face pale, horror written all over him.

I crouched against Cross, trying to disappear. He smoothed over my fur, scratching behind my ears and making soothing noises. “Yes. It’s real. Your sister survived transitioning into a werewolf over fifteen years ago. She’s not capable of infecting anyone, and her beast is fully merged with the rest of her. There is no danger to you.”

“She’s tiny,” Penn whispered. “Can I touch her?” He reached out a hand, but Bram slapped it down.

“Don’t be an idiot, Penn. You don’t pet werewolves.”

Cross held me tighter and stroked my fur, clearly demonstrating that’s exactly what he did.

“But she’s so cute. And if it’s Delphi, I’d rather be a werewolf with her than not be able to touch her.” Pen frowned as he ducked under Bram’s arm and came into our already crowded stall. He hesitated, then slowly touched my paw. I blinked at him while he slowly smiled.

“You have the same eyes,” he said, and patted my head with more confidence. “Fifteen years as a werewolf? You should have told us sooner. Mom’s going to have to find some good werewolf recipes.”

“Penn, gnomes don’t turn into werewolves. They die,” Bram said, hotly. “If she’s a werewolf, she’s dead to us.”

I flinched and burrowed my head under Cross’s armpit. He smelled delicious, like elves sweat moonlight and rainbows. Of course he did.

“Don’t say that, Bram,” Penn said while Cross held me more tightly. “You’re hurting her feelings. She didn’t ask to get turned into a werewolf. Did she?” he asked Cross.

“No,” he said, voice sharp. “She didn’t ask to survive, either. She’d rather die than be a werewolf, but she didn’t die, so you’ll have to deal with that tragedy,” he finished, standing up, and bringing me with him so I was tucked against his chest.

“Where are you going?” Bram demanded, blocking the door.

“I’m going to take her inside so I can treat her bullet wound. It seems she was shot.”

Bram’s eyes went big and then guilt was written all over his face as he tucked the gun away. “Dad didn’t shoot Delphi.”

Cross made a noncommittal sound. “You should go tell your wife that everything’s fine. If you’d like to say that Delphi’s sick, that would be better than announcing she’s a werewolf. She’s worried that she’ll lose her job when the truth comes out.”

When, not if. I shook my head and leapt out of Cross’s arms, grabbed a folded blanket in my teeth and shifted back to human. I winced as the pulling skin and muscles tore at my bullet wound, then wrapped the blanket around myself, shivering from the loss of blood.

“I shouldn’t go inside. They’ll be frightened,” I said, gripping the blanket tight.

“I don’t care,” Cross said, eyes hard. “I’m treating your wound even if I have to knock you out to do it. Do you want me to carry you, or Bram?”

I glanced at Bram, then shook my head. “I can walk, but it’s not necessary to?—”

Cross picked me up and started out of the stall, past my brothers like they weren’t there. “The blanket’s a bit itchy. I apologize,” Cross said, his beautiful eyes conveying a world of apology.

Penn snorted. “It’s not your blanket. If we knew Delphi’d be using it, we would have given you better blankets.”

Bram scowled at Penn. “She shouldn’t be in here with him. Who messes around in the barn when they’ve been shot?” He scowled at Cross. “We’ll have to see what father has to say about this.”

Cross gave him the icy look of a trained assassin. “He shot her. I don’t care what he says. His opinion is absolutely irrelevant.”

The idea of facing my father had me shrinking against Cross.

He brushed my hair with his lips and murmured, “He won’t hurt you again. I swear it.”

“Of course he won’t hurt her,” Bram blustered. “If you’d bothered to tell us you were a werewolf, no one would have shot you.”

“That’s true,” Penn said, nodding as he followed us out of the barn. “Not that I blame you, Delphi. I wouldn’t want to tell mom that I’d been infected, either. I hope she doesn’t cry.”

“Of course she’ll cry,” Bram muttered. “Her precious daughter got turned into a?—”

“If you say anything that hurts your sister,” Cross ground out, “I will personally make certain that you regret it.”

Bram pressed his lips together, and Penn nodded, all of us heading towards the house where the first aid kit was.

I closed my eyes and turned my face into Cross’s neck, trusting him to protect my heart from the inevitable storm of fear and grief we were headed into.