Taming the Beast
“What?”
Vic was already heeling off his boots and peeling off his shirt. “Close your eyes. That way, your man won’t get pissed at me for you having seen me in my birthday suit. If you were a wolf, he probably wouldn’t care, but I’m not gonna take the chance. I’m going to shift. Forcing his magic back will be easier if we’re in the same form.”
“Oh.” She jammed her eyes shut and then turned her back for good measure.
Mary wanted to watch, though. She felt like she needed to see the thing she had put into motion so she wouldn’t allow herself to plead ignorance later, but she was going to trust Anton and Vic to do what they said. She didn’t have a choice. She wasn’t a wolf. She didn’t understand wolf impulses or know how to soothe them, but she could make decisions on the fly. Every day, she did that at work—in every interview she conducted and every investigation she completed. She knew how to get shit done, even when she couldn’t do it all herself.
The noise behind her quieted.
Holding her breath, she turned, slowly, afraid to see to fallout—afraid to see Andreas hurt.
He was on his belly in his human form. His breathing was ragged, and his cheeks and jaw a bit scraped, but otherwise calm.
Gods. She put her hand to her heaving breast like some kind of delicate maiden.
Anton had his hands on Andreas’s shoulders and turned his head to sight her with his good eye.
“Is he…”
Still in his fur, Vic sat nearby and looked down at his “victim.”
“Is Andreas okay?” she asked.
Anton waved her over. “Come on. Your touch will do him some good, probably.”
She moved slowly to him, watching his face for signs of anger or betrayal, but he just looked tired. She knelt next to him and put her cheek against his, sighing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just trying to get you help. We’re going to go with them.”
“G-go where?” His voice was halting, as if he were having trouble getting his throat to work properly.
“To Norseton. We’re going to go to Norseton until you’re better. I’ll stay with you until you’re stable.”
He swallowed audibly. “And then what?”
“And then…” She passed her fingers through his messy hair and stilled them at the base of his neck. “Then we’ll figure out what to do with ourselves, I imagine. We need to clear out of here before the locals figure out where we’re defecting to.”
He sighed. “They’re going to vandalize my building, aren’t they?”
She sighed, too. “Probably. You might want to move up your timeline of getting this stuff catalogued.”
Grimacing, he closed his eyes. “It’s a lot of stuff.”
Chapter 10
> Even after seeing the woman almost daily for weeks, Mary didn’t think she’d ever get used to the fact that the matriarch of the Afótama clan, a woman of at least seventy, wore holey T-shirts and Air Jordans.
“Why do you always look at me like that?” Muriel asked as she pushed her bifocals up her nose. With Maggie peering over her shoulder, she stood in the open doorway of Mary’s temporary apartment in Norseton, holding a plant that had been tied with a festive bow.
Andreas, curled on the sofa with his eyes closed, chuckled.
“Sorry.” Mary cringed. “It’s the shoes, I think.”
Muriel looked down at them. “Oh. Well, the thing is, I’m a creature of habit. Five years ago, I’d ordered something else from an online shoe store and they sent me a pair of these instead, and I was too lazy to send them back. They ended up being comfortable. Lots of room for my wide, grandma feet.”
“I should try them,” Maggie muttered.
“Better than those gods-awful orthopedics some people wear,” Andreas said.
“Hey, damn right.” Muriel set the plant on the cluttered table by the door. “Figured we’d bring you a welcome gift. I know you’ve been here for a bit, but things get busy at the mansion.”