The Wolf in Sheep's Skin

Chapter 13

“Way to be cryptic. Could’ve at least told me what’s happening.”

Ansel only called when something big was happening, so I shoved the phone in my pocket and hurried.

I tugged my shirt off, wiped excess grease off my face, and washed my hands. I left the car port area of the garage and went into the laundry room and grabbed a cleanish shirt from a laundry basket and pulled it over my head.

After kicking a few tools away from the truck, I climbed in and left the garage. The truck didn’t appreciate the speed I drove, but time was of the essence. I flew into the parking area, jumped out of the car, and slammed the door.

Racing up the steps, I walked into the pack house. I strained my ears, listening for a struggle, or whatever Ansel could’ve called about. But all I heard was gabbing women in the kitchen.

I raced towards their voices.

“Did you hear her sister is having her ceremony soon? I have some plans I need to tell you about.” Olivia said in her usual snobbish tone.

“I heard no one’s gone into the shop since we went.” Another woman said, and the two giggled.

I stormed into the room and they both stared at me with frightened looks.

“Where’s Ansel?” All of my muscles were tensed, all the reasons he could’ve called raced through my mind.

“Uh, I’m not sure, he’s… I haven’t seen him.” Olivia shrugged, her eyes big, and she leaned away from me like I’d grab her from across the room.

“You haven’t heard him?”

She violently shook her head no.

I grunted and left them behind and raced up the stairs two steps at a time and barged into his office. But it was empty. Further down the hall, I found the reception desk empty as well.

My stomach churned, slithering into knots. Jessica never leaves the desk. She’s always close enough to hear someone coming.

I went further down the hall, and faint whistling made my ears perk up. I followed the sound and slammed open a door.

Ansel leaned back in an office chair with his feet up on the desk, whistling. He worked at polishing an old watch from his collection.

“What’s happened?” I shouted.

He looked up at me with raised brows and his mouth hung open. He looked around the room and shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“You said there was an emergency; what is it?”

“Oh, that. I’ve handled it.”

“What?”

“It’s all taken care of.” He continued whistling. I shut the door behind me and went further into the room. The muscles in my neck tensed, and I let out a slow breath.

“You made me come all the way here for nothing? You should’ve called when you handled it! I thought someone was dying, or a fight was breaking out!”

“Oh, no need to get mad; it was nothing like that. Everything’s fine now.”

“I was kind of in the middle of something!” I motioned to my dirty clothes.

“Were you working on another project?”

“Yes!”

“Well, it’s a good thing werewolves don’t age. You’ve got time later.”

“I can’t believe this! You called me here for nothing, for what, to get back at me?” I shouted. “Only call me for an emergency if it’s an emergency!”

Ansel pulled his lips into a thin line, but I could see his mustache raising like he was hiding a smile.

“Don’t do it again!” I pointed at him and left the room. I bounded down the stairs, shaking my head. What a d*ck! Making me drive all the way here, for what, to toy with, make me run around at his beck and call?

I growled and stopped in the kitchen. The counters were covered in platters of desserts, brownies, cookies, cakes; all kinds of baked goods. Must be some kind of d*mb meeting.

I frowned, but the sound of their laughter was several rooms over. They probably can’t even hear me.

I glanced over the trays and my stomach rumbled. I shouldn’t. They’ll get mad, it’ll be a whole thing. I scowled at the vast array of trays. F*ck it, they hate me anyway. Besides, they make them for the pack, and I’m pack. Whether they like it or not.

I lifted the foil of a nearby tray and sniffed. I wrinkled my nose at the scent of over-baked, dry brownies with pistachios inside.

After inspecting a few more trays, I nearly gave up, but decided to try one more. Doesn’t anyone here know how to make a decent dessert?

My stomach grumbled with hopeful delight that was instantly squashed. Oddly shaped sugar cookies looked up at me with hideous candy eyes. The neon yellow frosting had melted, leaving globs of it on the tray instead of on the cookies.

Orange frosting was mixed with the yellow, making them look psychedelic. I grimaced at the poor cookies state and debated on finding their maker so I could offer help.

Not that they’d accept my help. Whoever made these probably shouldn’t be baking, anyway.

I frowned at myself. Nonsense. Anyone can learn. Maybe they taste alright?

I leaned in and took a big sniff. My brows raised and my mouth salivated.

Mead cookies? I grabbed a cookie and shoved it in my mouth and groaned. I practically drooled on myself, my eyes fluttered closed.

Then it went away, and my mouth went dry.

I debated spitting the cookie out, but quickly swallowed it instead. The taste of raw flour coated the inside of my mouth. I glared at the cookies on the tray. They lost their shape, so they had too much butter. How can they be so dry? Did they not use any sugar or vanilla? Their texture is awful, like chewing on play-dough left in the sun.

I shivered at the thought and took a small bite out of another one. The same thing happened; pure tasty bliss turned sour with bland, dry cookie.

No matter how much I wanted to spit it out, I couldn’t make myself, and soon I’d eaten almost the entire tray.

I grabbed another, chewing. My mouth tingled, and I sucked in a deep breath. Then the bland dryness hit me, and my stomach turned. Who could’ve made such an abomination?

Heels clicked towards in a hurry, and I glanced in their direction. The blonde woman who’d slapped me stormed my way; her face contorted like she was preparing to breathe fire.

Finally! Now I can get her scent and be done with her!

“What do you think you’re doing? Those aren’t for you!” She hissed at me, her words like venom.

I kept my mouth shut as she got closer. Her silken blonde hair was golden in the spring afternoon light that shined through the large kitchen windows. It cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in elegant, bouncy curls. Her dainty blonde eyebrows were together, and her forget-me-not blue eyes were filled with hatred.

A soft lilac dress flowed around her legs as she hurried towards me, like some spiteful spring goddess.

She stopped an arm’s length away and opened her mouth.

I reached out and snatched her wrist, bringing it up to my nose.

“Hey! What’s your problem!” She tried to pull her arm away, but my grip was too strong.

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, ensuring her scent would be locked into my memory.

The scent of spiced mead filled my senses, making my head swirl. Faint notes of cinnamon, nutmeg, and anise mixed together into a flourishing combination. My mouth drooled, and I had to swallow it to prevent dripping drool down my chin. I groaned, my head turning airy, and I could’ve drank the scent of her mead.

Gwen pressed her free hand against my shoulder, tugging with all her strength to get away. Her heels were slipping on the marble floor, making scrapping sounds.

“I need your mead recipe.” My voice was too deep, too much of a growl when I said it. I readied myself to debate with her. She isn’t going to give up such a good recipe for nothing.

“What’re you talking about?” She scrunched her face and stared at me like I’d grown a third eye. “Let me go!” She pulled harder and stared at her hand like she wanted to gnaw it off.

“The scent on you! The mead you’ve made, the spiced mead! What’s your price? I’ll pay for the recipe!” I shook her hand, holding it up in the air.

“Are you insane? I didn’t make mead, I made cookies! And you ate all of them!” She motioned to the platter with her free hand. I let her hand go, making her stumble backwards. She shook it like it hurt, but I knew my grip hadn’t been that tight.

“You made these?” I held up a sad, deformed cookie. “How can you make such good mead, yet be such an awful baker?”

“That’s incredibly rude! I’m not an awful baker!” She growled, stepping closer, baring her teeth at me. I held the cookie closer to her, making the frosted part face her.

“You were going to serve these to people? What are they supposed to be?”

“They’re chicks and they’re charming.” She huffed and balled up her fists at her side.

“Chicks?” I looked at it again, and if I kind of squinted my eyes and let my imagination run wild, I might’ve seen chicks. “Your chick is begging for the mercy of death.”

“That’s cruel! And it’s the taste that matters.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Did you taste them?”

“What?” She squeaked out, her dazzling blue eyes blinking at me.

“If the taste is so important, then did you taste them? Because I did, and they’re awful.”

“They smelt fine, and who are you anyway, the cookie police? What, you go around tasting everyone’s desserts and criticizing them? Haven’t you got anything better to do?” She spat at me. “They weren’t for you anyway, and you ate almost all of them!” Her voice was thick with hatred as she leaned in, whispering to me.

I leaned over her, looking her in the eye. She met my glare, all signs of fear gone.

“I’ll eat your cookie as much as I please.” I hissed in a low voice.

F*ck f*ck f*ck. Cookies! I meant cookies!

I stood up straight and tried to make my mouth spit out the words, but I couldn’t. I stood there d*mbly as my thoughts raced.

You st*pid id*ot, what’s wrong with you!

Her mouth flailed open and closed and an odd choking sound came out. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks turned bright red. The color went down her neck, across her chest.

Apologize! Say something, anything!

I couldn’t take my eyes off her; I couldn’t make my mouth move. Our eyes met, and she trapped me, like she was sucking me into her soul. Purple specks appeared in her blue eyes. The specks grew, and her eyes were almost completely violet.

Her wolf’s eyes are purple?

My heart hammered in my chest and my mind went hazy.

A sweet scent filled the air, deep and rich, making my mouth salivate. I sucked in a breath and froze. Arousal, her arousal, filled the air.

My wolf stirred, and a growl left my throat. She shook, and I crushed the cookie that was still in my hand. It dropped to the floor, and I looked down at it, snapping me out of her hold.

She stumbled and caught herself on the counter. My wolf stirred again, and I craved to reach out and touch her, to feel her supple skin against mine. I grabbed the platter and rushed out of the room, away from her.

The sun beamed down on me as I ran across the parking area, gravel crunching under my feet. I flung open the door, tossed the platter on the seat, climbed in, and slammed the door.

“What the f*ck!” I gripped the steering wheel and shouted at myself. I slammed my head on the wheel and squeezed my eyes shut.

How could I be so stupid? How could I say that? What’s wrong with me?

My blunder kept replaying in my head, her shocked expression was stuck in my mind. My wolf slithered in the back of my mind, like a beast slinking around in the deeps of a cave.

I slammed my hands against the steering wheel and took a deep breath.

What was that? I thought of her blue and violet eyes. My hands shook and my head spun.

I rested both of my arms on top of the steering wheel and leaned my head against them. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my racing heart, but the scent of spiced mead clung to me. The spot where she’d touched my shoulder burned like she’d taken an iron to it.

I shifted my leg and pants were tight, squeezing me. Adjusting my leg again, a jolt of pain made me jump. I flung open my eyes and stared into my lap. My hard d*ck struggled against the fabric of my jeans, making an obvious outline.

“F*cking perfect.”

I grabbed a cookie from the tray, chewing its dry blandness, started the truck, and went home.