Shelly Laurenston - Howl for It

Darla looked out the window, still moving only her eyes since moving her neck only brought pain, though she couldn’t figure out why. “Where are we?” she asked since she didn’t really recognize anything flying by.

“Tennessee.”

Her fingers curled into fists. “Tennessee? Why . . . when . . . I don’t understand ...”

“You’re fine.”

“I am not fine! You’ve kidnapped me from the safety of my Pack and my family’s home and taken me across state lines!”

“Not that safe.”

“What does that mean? Not that safe?”

“You were attacked there. By full-humans.”

“Oh, and that wouldn’t have happened if I was in Smith County or Smithland or Smith Province or whatever dang Smith-named place you people happen to reside in at the moment?”

“Nope. Probably wouldn’t.”

Fed up with his attitude, her head and neck hurting badly, and being dang afraid, Darla raised her arm and pointed. “Pull over.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Pull over!”

“Let’s get to Smithtown territory first.”

“Pull over now !”

“All right. All right.” Turning the wheel, he pulled to a stop at the side of the two-lane highway, big trucks rumbling past.

“What is it?” he asked, sounding gruff and nasty. For all Darla knew, she could be in a car with a truly despicable person and she had to know. She had to know if she was truly safe or if she should try to make a run for it, sore neck or not. And the only way to do that was the way she’d been taught by her favorite great aunt.

Without moving her very sore neck, Darla raised her hands and gestured to the wolf. “Come here.”

Eggie, not wanting to be out here in the open among all these full-humans, didn’t quite understand what the little gal was asking.

“Pardon?”

“Come here.”

He leaned over, thinking maybe she was feeling sick. Her body was still healing and he could tell she was in pain. He’d feel better when he had her tucked into a bed on properly protected territory.

“Closer. I can’t turn my neck.”

So he leaned in closer, moving over her so he could see her face without her having to turn. That’s when she placed her small hands on his face and tugged him even closer. She gazed right into his eyes and, for a brief, wonderful second, he thought she was going to kiss him. But all she did was stare intently into his face, her gaze searching his. For what, Eggie had no idea. No one had ever looked at him for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Are you mad or something?” she asked.

“No.”

“Worried? Terrified?”

“No.”

“Then why are your eyes still wolf?”

“They’re not.”

“They’re not?”

“No.” He shifted his eyes to show her the difference. “See? That’s shifted. That isn’t.”

“Huh.” She blinked. “You do realize that the only difference is that your shifted eyes are slightly more dilated?”

“Never really paid attention.”

“Of course,” she sighed and went on staring into his eyes.

Eggie had no idea how long they sat there with him hovering over her, his arms braced on either side of her hips, her hands soft on his jaw, but he knew he liked it. And they’d barely touched.

Finally, she let out a long breath, her body relaxing back into the seat. Her hands dropping to her lap.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Slowly, Eggie moved back to his seat, looking out the car window. “What just happened?” Because Eggie knew something had happened.

“I just needed to make sure I was safe with you.”

“Safe with me?” He looked at her. “You know you’re safe with me?” She was, but how could she be so sure of that fact?

She smiled, seeming relieved. “Uh-huh.”

“And you know this because you . . . looked at me?”

“Basically.”

“Basically?”

“Uh-huh. Basically.”

She smiled and Eggie realized that she had the prettiest and deepest dimples in those cute cheeks that he’d ever seen before in his life.

“So you want me to keep going?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.” Carefully she turned her head, wincing just a little from the pain. “You can take me wherever you want to, Egbert Ray Smith, because I know that I’ll never be safer than I am right now . . . with you.”

And she said the words with such sincerity, her dark brown eyes so trusting of him when even his own kin never looked at him that way, that Eggie knew in that moment that he’d never let anyone harm this She-wolf. Never let anyone come near her without her consent.

He’d protect Darla Mae Smith with his life.

Checking the road, Eggie pulled out onto the highway and headed home.

So this was the infamous Smithtown.

Darla had heard about it long before her sisters had become involved with Smith males. While Smithville, North Carolina, was the place of comfort and relaxation for all shifters, a sanctuary where they could be themselves while hunting deer and elk and freshwater seals, Smithtown was for Smith Pack members and their kin only. Even other Packs didn’t venture into Smithtown without express permission unless they were looking for a fight.

So with that particular history in her head, Darla was expecting a backwoods town filled with inbred redneck wolves. But, to her surprise, it was . . . charming. The smaller houses were nicely spaced with pretty little lawns and gardens, while the bigger homes were on lovely stretches of land. There were lots of trees and hills and deer and elk roaming around free. The town they cut through had quaint storefronts, a fancy restaurant, a more casual diner, and a movie theater showing Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry and The Golden Voyage of Sinbad.

It seemed like a quiet, pleasant town and she was happy to see someplace new. She loved finding new places to visit.

Eventually, they pulled onto a dirt road. They traveled for another five minutes until they reached a small house with a wraparound porch.

“Is this your father’s house?” she asked.

“No.” He turned the car off and got out.

“Not real chatty, are ya?” she muttered, watching the big wolf walk around the front of the car and come to her side. He opened the door and slipped his arms under her legs and behind her back.

“I can walk,” she told him.

If he heard her, she couldn’t tell. He didn’t respond at all. Not even a grunt. He simply lifted her out of the car, easily carrying her toward the house.

As it was in most Smith towns, whether outsiders were allowed or not, his front door wasn’t locked and he walked right into his home.

And the inside of Eggie Smith’s house was . . . sparse. Yes. Sparse was the word. Not bad or anything, but not exactly homey either. In the living room there was a folding card table, three folding chairs, two barrels she assumed were used for chairs, and a pretty big TV right against the wall. A color one at that with a remote sitting right on top of the set.

Yet for a man who probably hadn’t been home for a very long time, it wasn’t a bad place. Someone was keeping it dust free and airing it out every once in a while. Still, the way the wolf stood in the middle of it, glaring at the entire room, she had the feeling he was seeing it for the first time from an outsider’s perspective.

Not wanting him to feel bad, Darla said, “You can just put me down in that chair there.” She pointed at one of the folding chairs around the folding table, but he snarled a little and held her a bit tighter.

Feeling awkward because she felt quite comfortable tucked in his arms, Darla asked, “Have you been fixing up the place? I see all the tools.”