Dana Bell: The Wallflower

“Those few people being Olivia Patterson and Belinda Campbell?” When Max merely shrugged, Mrs.

Roman grinned. “Max, anything that will make Livia and Belinda squirm is okay by me. But…” she wagged her finger under his nose, ignoring his little boy grin, “…you have only until Saturday!”

She was so happy she forgot to wait around and pick out the frames for her new glasses, heading straight out the door with an absent wave good-bye. Emma knew the story of Max’s declaration would be all over town by mid-afternoon Saturday. She stared right at a smug Max, torn between laughing and screaming. “Happy, Captain Caveman?”

Adrian’s choked laugh and Lisa’s snort of amusement broke the tie. Emma laughed up at Max, who was still grinning like a schoolboy.

“You okay to close up, Adrian?”

“Can you give me just five minutes before you head out? I have a question about Mr. Davis.”

Max looked over at Emma, who was practically dancing in her seat, and back at Adrian. He nodded, clearly torn. “Hey, Emma? Can you wait in here for me? I’ll just be a few minutes, okay?”

Emma huffed and followed him into an examination room. He kissed her quickly and closed the door behind him. The room was typical of eye exam rooms everywhere, with a black examination chair and all of the equipment surrounding it. A desk sat in one corner of the room off to the side of the chair. A mirror on one wall showed the letter “E” when she turned the lights off.

Emma paced, her skin twitching. She rubbed her arms briskly, trying not to scratch. She felt like she

could peel her own skin off. Sure enough, when she looked down at her hands she saw claws where her nails should be.

“Ah, hell.” She ran to the mirror and looked in it. Gold eyes stared back at her. She licked her lips, feeling the edges of fangs as her tongue went back in her mouth. Scenes from Teen Wolf were going through her mind as she desperately tried to stay human.

She gave up when the fur started sprouting.

Max entered the examination room, not terribly surprised to see the Puma in his examination chair. The cat was sitting in a pair of blue jeans and a red lightweight sweater, the same clothes Emma had been wearing when she entered the office. It looked adorably pissed.

Max leaned against the doorjamb and sighed, desperately trying not to laugh. “I told you not to go into work today.”

She snarled at him. She kept snarling at him as he untangled her from her clothes. She quietly snarled at him as he led her to his SUV, which he pulled in behind the office so he could sneak her into it. She snarled the whole way out of town.

She was still snarling at him when he led her into the woods. She stopped snarling when he got naked.

When he changed, she began purring.

With a playful flick of her tail she invited him to chase her.

She purred loudest of all when he caught her.

“You expect me to wear that?” Emma looked at the picture on the bag of the most incredibly X-rated (okay, maybe high-R) pirate outfit she’d ever seen. All the model needed was a half-naked pirate next to her to make the picture complete. The frilly, lacy cream skirt hit the girl just before full exposure; God forbid if the poor thing tried to sit, she’d be showing her assets to everyone in the room! The girl’s breasts spilled out of the matching top, helped along by a burgundy waist cinch with an attached overskirt. The cinch and skirt combo was embroidered in an elaborate design done in gold. Lace bell sleeves allowed her hands freedom while promising to drip into everything. The feathered hat matched the cinch, with the edges decorated in creamy lace. No less than four feathers peeked around the rim of the hat. Tall black boots with three-inch heels and a remarkably lifelike saber completed the outfit. If Max thought she’d wear the lacy thigh-high stockings he’d bought, he was in for a rude awakening. The stockings definitely took the outfit into X-land.

Max’s innocent expression didn’t fool her for a moment. There was simply no way he could hide the heat in his eyes. “It matches my costume. Besides, the model in that thing has to be taller than you. The skirt should hit you mid-thigh.”

“Oh, yes, that makes it so much better.”

They were sitting in Max’s breakfast nook, finishing the last of their coffee. Emma needed to open the store that day; Becky would close at five. Emma planned on handing Becky her costume just before she left for the day, leaving Becky no option but to wear what Max had provided since the masquerade was that night. Although, looking at the costume he’d chosen for her, she was a little leery about the costume he’d gotten for her friend. “Who picked out Becky’s costume?”

“Simon.”

“Oh boy. Can I see the costume she’s probably going to throw at my head?”

Max grinned and reached into the bag he’d brought to the table that morning. He pulled out an off-the-shoulder black lacy top with long sleeves that were tight at the arms and flared out at the wrists.

Next he pulled out a black skirt. It was short and flaring, the kind that would fly up if you spun in place.

On top of the skirt he laid out a leather belt with a silver belt buckle, a swordsman’s belt meant for a real rapier. Tall black boots almost identical to Emma’s, a black bandito hat, black cape and black mask completed the outfit. Where Emma’s outfit was blatantly sexy, Becky’s was sexy in an understated way.

Her skirt would probably hit her mid-thigh as well, but in all other respects she was almost modestly covered, especially since it was obvious the cape would hit her at her knees, thus covering her dignity in back. Unlike Emma’s outfit, which took dignity and kicked its ass to the curb with a cheery wave and a fond farewell.

“Wow. I’m impressed. I should have let Simon pick my outfit, too.”

Emma grinned at the sound of Max’s low-pitched, possessive growl.

“Okay, so…” Emma folded her hands on top of Becky’s costume, “…where’s my outfit for the party? I mean, I have to assume this outfit is for, like, role-playing at home or something.”

“I am going to show the entire world exactly how sexy I find you.” His hands covered hers, both soothing her and locking her into place. Gold flecks danced in the blue of his eyes and Emma shivered.

“No one will doubt how much I want you. I plan on having every single male there drooling with envy that I’m the one who has you. I want every female there to hate you on sight.”

“Just being with you will do that,” Emma muttered.

Max grinned. It wasn’t pleasant. “I want Livia to grind her teeth into powder when she sees you on my arm. And then I want us both to smile at her and wish her well after she bows down to you.”

“Damn, Max, you should have been a girl. That’s totally bitchy.”

He picked up one of her hands and kissed the palm, sending more shivers of heat through her. “And then tomorrow we finish moving the rest of your stuff in.”

Emma had given in on moving in with him just the night before. She hadn’t been to her apartment since the night Max bit her, other than to pick up a few changes of clothing, her toiletries, her full-length mirror that she refused to live without, and her makeup. Her red PT Cruiser had finally made its way to his garage last night, too, and was now nestled next to Max’s Durango. He’d frowned darkly over the fact that it was a convertible, muttering something about knives and maniacs, but he’d just have to learn to live with it. Emma loved her car, and her car loved her.

“I’ll make you a deal.” He’d never go for it, and then she’d get to change costumes. A win-win situation, as far as she was concerned.