The Wolf in Sheep's Skin

Chapter 18

Jay

I stared at the door Gwen had slammed. I’d managed to p*ss off a lot of people in my lifetime, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d evoked such a strong response. Her anger scented the air, and it seeped out of her like venom.

“I’m so sorry about that; I don’t know what’s gotten into her!” Gwen’s mother, who’d introduced herself as Orla earlier, had her hand clutched at her chest. She watched the door with genuine concern. “I’ll go speak to her.”

Maeve smirked at me, raised her brows, and glanced at her mother. She’d been giving me knowing looks the entire time, watching Gwen and I.

“No. I’ll go.”

“No, really, she has better manners than that; I promise, something must be bothering her. Please stay, enjoy yourself.” Orla motioned to the group.

“It’s me. I’m the thing bothering her.”

“Nonsense; you’ve been nothing but pleasant!” She gaped at me.

“When we met, I wasn’t very kind. I’m sure she told you about it?” I waited for Orla to figure it out, hoping I didn’t have to offer more explanation. Orla’s kind, welcoming face twisted in confusion; then she gasped as it clicked.

“You? You’re him? From the party?” She asked in dismay.

“I am.”

She snapped her attention to her mate, pointing her finger at him.

“You! You invited him here, to our house?” She snarled at him and Keegan’s mouth opened and closed with a look of terror.

“He didn’t know! He couldn’t know; I didn’t know either. If I did, I would’ve declined the offer.” I shouted, preparing to stop Orla from attacking her mate. “I’ll go apologize.”

She looked me up and down with the same fiery look Gwen got in her eyes when she was mad. “I think that’s best. Go on, then.” She motioned towards the house, shooing me away.

Gwen

Slamming a cutting board down on the counter, I grabbed a washed carrot and a cleaver, and began chopping. Swinging the cleaver in the air, I brought it down on the carrot. The blade got stuck in the wood, and I tried to wiggle it free.

St*pid knife, st*pid man, why isn’t anything working?

I pulled the blade out, almost smacking myself in the face with the back of it. I swung again, with a bit less force. The chopped bit of carrot flew across the kitchen counter, but I kept swinging.

A door opened, and I growled.

“Leave me alone mom!”

Heavy footsteps came my way and glared at the kitchen doorway. Jay came into view with a concerned look on his face. His eyes landed on the cleaver as I swung it down on a carrot.

“Great, what do you want? Come in here to insult me again?” I asked in a snide remark. I turned my back to him and swung the cleaver again.

“What are you doing?” His voice had a hint of horror. I glared at him. His mouth was slightly open, with eyes watching the knife.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m chopping these st*pid carrots.” I tried to lift the cleaver, but it had stuck into the cutting board again. “Going to make fun of me for that, too?” I pried the blade out of the wood, sending carrot chunks to the floor.

He came closer, stepping into the room, and I snarled at him.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, swinging that knife around like that.” His voice was soft, making my skin crawl. I turned to him and pointed at him with the knife. He flinched and squinted at me.

“I’m doing fine! Now leave me alone!” I shouted and brought the knife down again.

“Stop that!”

“Don’t tell me what to do in my own home!” The knife made a loud whack as it hit the cutting board and a carrot chunk flew across the kitchen. His lips curled into a snarl and his face twisted in anger.

“You’re going to chop off your hand doing that! You’re not even looking at what you’re doing!” He shouted, the muscles in this neck flexing.

“I’m doing fine!” I brought the cleaver up, glaring at him. He leaned closer and pointed at me.

“If you don’t drop that knife right now, I’m going to take it from you.” He said in a low growl. His green eyes were narrowed, and his lips were curled. I tensed and knew he was serious.

I growled and threw the knife down on the cutting board. I stormed up to him and jabbed my finger in his chest.

“You’re arrogant, telling people what to do and insulting my cookies and telling me I don’t know how to chop carrots! What’s your problem? You’re, you’re vile and insolent and vulgar and-“

“And what, you think you shoot rainbows out of your *ss? You’ve got some serious anger problems, Gwendolyn, running around and shouting and snapping at people!” He glared at my finger, which I’d been jabbing him with. I brought my hand down, balling up my fist.

“You lack manners! You go run around saying inappropriate, disgusting things to people!” I hissed at him and he flinched.

“It was an accident! I’d meant to say ‘cookies’. I should’ve corrected myself then, but I panicked, and ran like a d*mn coward. I’m sorry, it was a mistake!” He shouted, staring me in the eye.

A mistake?

His words stung, like he’d shoved a dagger in my gut and twisted it.

My hand flexed at my side, and I took all my self-control to stop myself from slapping him again. Something burned in my gut, like I could’ve spit fire at him, burning him to a crisp.

“Olivia says you k*ll people.” I blurted out. His face dropped, and he sucked in a breath. His face grew dark, and a deep growl rumbled from his chest, so loud I could feel it.

“Your friends with that woman? That’s why you were at the pack house?” He snarled. Anger rolled off him in waves, making me want to back away from him. But I planted my feet where they were and stared up at him.

“That isn’t the point.” I hissed, clenching my fists tighter.

“Your friends right. I k*ll people. For the pack. I go around to all the other packs, and I hunt down m*rderer’s, r*pists, and people who hurt children. And you know what? I enjoy it; I sleep like a f*cking baby every night knowing they aren’t out there hurting people!” He shouted and turned away, stomping towards the front door.

My mind reeled and all the anger in my gut washed away. I chased after him as he stomped, mumbling to himself. He’s doing it to protect people?

“Where are you going?” I grabbed for his arm, but he pulled it out of my hand.

“I’m leaving, because apparently, you think I’m some psych*tic k*ller!” He swiveled at me, shouting. His face was bright red, and veins stuck out on his neck.

I darted in front of him, blocking the front door. I leaned back against it, splaying my arms out, so he couldn’t go outside. His fists clenched and his knuckles turned white.

His eyes were copper, staring me down with pure rage.

“Move.” He growled. He towered over me, his muscles tense.

“No.” I stuck my chin out and planted my feet on the floor.

“Don’t make me force you.” His skin twitched like he was ready to shift, like he was on the edge, barely able to control himself.

Calm washed over me, and I steeled myself. Pain swirled in his eyes. I sense it clearly as if it was my own. The pain of being feared, of people watching you with terror. I’m not letting him leave here like that. Not until he understands.

“Olivia didn’t say you had a good reason. She made it sound like you’re some horrible person, doing it for fun.” I said in a soft tone. I stared into his copper eyes, standing my ground.

Copper turned to green, and his face softened. His muscles relaxed, and he leaned back and stopped towering over me. A quizzical look crossed his face, and he eyed me.

“You’re not scared?” He whispered.

“Why would I be? I know what we do with bad wolves; it’s not like we can have werewolf prisons. It would never work.”

He gave me an odd look, and his mouth opened, then closed. We stood there, staring at each other. The room crackled with tension, and I waited for him to say something, anything.

He squinted at me, tilting his head.

“Why are you friends with Olivia?”

“I’m not! She’s barred everyone from going to my store.”

“She isn’t supposed to do that.”

“I know.”

A curious, conniving look crossed his face. His eyes gleamed just like before he said something crass.

“Don’t do anything about it!” I pointed a finger and hissed at him. “I’m handling it.”

“I can talk to her. Tell her to stop interfering in people’s businesses. Or I could talk to Ansel, if you’d prefer.”

“Absolutely not! What do you think people will do if she’s forced to let people come in? They aren’t going to; they’ll still know she doesn’t want them to come. No, I have to win her favor.” I dropped my arms, letting my hands hit my sides. I glared at the wall past his head, trying to think of ways to get her to not hate me.

“Is that why you brought the cookies?”

“Yes.” I glared at him.

“Then you’re welcome for eating them. They definitely wouldn’t have won her favor.” He raised his brows and glanced down, staring at my chest. My face burned and growled at him.

“Stop looking at me like a piece of meat!” I snapped.

“Was I?” He blinked at me, then pointed at me. “I was going to ask if you had another apron.” He looked down again, and I followed his gaze.

My white apron was splattered with orange carrot juice. My face and burned, and I could see my own chest turning cherry red. I huffed and stormed past him into the pantry.

We had a hook with lots of aprons my mom and I had made hanging on it. Some were simple, like mine was. I grabbed the first one on the hook, making the aprons sway.

A bright, flashy pink one peaked out from behind the others. No one had used it in years; I’d made it when I was little, and first started learning embroidery.

Smiling at myself, I pulled the aprons off the hook, grabbed the pink one, and put the others back.