Howl (Witches & Warlocks Book 4) (7 page)

I shoot him a text back, all flirty and wonderful, and invite him to meet me at Sir Perks-a-lot.

I don’t know,
he shoots back, still pretending to be all funny.
I had a crazy night of movies and sexting all lined up.

I smile and go check my hair and makeup in the mirror.
Come out with me and maybe you’ll end up having actual sex.
I hit send and then quickly type out another one.
Unless you’re more interested in the do it yourself version.

I’m smiling when I meet my gaze through the mirror, all the stress of stalkers and missing pages and vampire-Beccas evaporated after just a few texts with Noah. The phone buzzes one last time in my hand.

Sold. Be there in ten.

Twinks is staring at me from the hallway, silently judging me for another several hours spent alone. I scoop him up on my way towards the door. “Now listen,” I say into his fuzzy back. “You be good. No more paper parties, you hear?”

Twinks neither acknowledge hearing nor understanding and hops up onto the back of the couch when I put him down. After filling his food bowl and checking his water, I throw my coat over my shoulders and lock the door. The sun is dipping low against the horizon, throwing a splendid display of red and orange streaking up from the woods behind my house. I check my wards, tighten them against vampires and, kind of on a last minute decision, throw in some anti-wolf stuff as well. If Ty is comfortable stalking me to Windsor and back, who knows what else he’s comfortable with?

As I pull out of the driveway, I’m struck by how dark and foreboding my house looks against the sunset, how the dark line of trees seems heavy with threat. I whisper one more incantation, an extra bit of protection for my sweet little fur ball locked inside and pull out of the driveway, unable to shake the feeling of eyes on my back.

Chapter Eight

Krystal rolls her eyes as I push through the doors to Sir Perks-a-lot. “You know,” she says, shaking her crimson hair out of her eyes, and plucking a cup off the stack of cups to make me a drink, “if I didn’t work here, I’m not so sure I’d ever be here at all.”

“I’m comfortable in my patterns.” A quick scan of the place reveals that I beat Noah here. “If I wasn’t, how else would you know what kind of drink to make me?”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Who’s to say I’m making you your usual? Maybe I’ve made it my mission to help you break outside your box.

“I’m comfortable in my box, Krystal.” If she even had the smallest of clues about how crazy my life actually was, how few things actually made sense, I think she’d forgive me for holding onto my rituals so tightly.

She hands me my drink and I sniff it. “Go on, silly,” she says, shaking her head. “I know you well enough to know your head would explode if anything happened to your precious routine. It’s your favorite. Drink up.”

I smile to cover the torrent of emotions tangling in my chest. She thinks she knows me well. If only she knew just how much I hid from her on a daily basis. If only she knew how much I knew about this world that she doesn't even have a clue about. I take my drink to a table and work on getting rid of the little black cloud of negativity and pessimism that seems to be hanging over me. Check the clock on the wall. Wonder where Noah is.

Just when I’m starting to get worried, he pushes through the door, a broad smile lighting up his wonderful face. The little black cloud totally disappears. He is the sunshine that dries up all the rain. Is it weird that I just ittsy-bittsy-spidered him? Totally. Do I care? Not at all.

I watch him order his drink, love the way his eyes flit to me while Krystal’s busy chatting him up, love the secret little smile that twists the corner of his mouth. Being this close to him, it’s like taking the first deep breath after several days of not enough oxygen. I sigh and let my shoulders fall. This was such a better idea than being home alone. Noah collects his drink and wanders through the table towards me, his eyes on mine, a smile crinkling them at the corners.

He sits down and leans forward, takes my hands in his, kisses each one. “Hello my lovely. I’ve missed you.”

A smile breaks across my face and I blush from happiness. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I like this whole seeing you in person thing. Such a better idea than sitting in our separate living rooms, missing each other.”

“I agree.”

He lowers his voice. “I’m still not sure how you think we’re going to manage sex in a public place. You don’t strike me as a bathroom sex kind of girl.”

I widen my eyes. “You be careful or there’ll be no sex at all. Bathroom or otherwise.”

“So bathroom sex isn’t completely off the table?”

I shrug and smile into my shoulder, let my eyes simmer into his. “You know what they say. Anything is possible.”

He laughs and I take a drink of my coffee. We chat, bouncing the conversational ball back and forth and I’m surprised to find that sometimes, I’ve got more to say than he does. “I’m sorry,” I say after a particularly long-winded monologue on my part.

“Sorry?” Noah sits back in his chair. “For what?”

“For talking so much.”

I’m genuinely surprised when he laughs. “Don’t be sorry. I love it.”

“Really?”

“Ya. Really. Knowing that you feel comfortable enough with me to just let down your guard and let it all out? That’s amazing. Especially considering there was a time when you couldn't make eye contact with me without blushing.”

“Ya, but that was a spell. Mostly.”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to know you, Zoe. I want to know all the little details that make you who you are. How am I going to learn all of that if you’re not willing to sit down and open up with me?”

And suddenly, I’m very uncomfortable. Because I’m not willing to open up to him. Not completely. I haven’t told him about my research at Windsor. I haven’t told him about the missing pages in my birth parents’ lineage books. I haven’t told him about going to see Becca, or getting stopped by Ty. I haven’t told him about the uneasy feelings I’ve been getting at home. Sure, I’m blabbing on about my favorite books, and laughing about our favorite TV shows, but does that really count as opening up? And what does it mean that I can’t bring myself to tell him all of those things?

What does it mean that I trust him with my body but not my heart? Because in the end, that’s what this all boils down to. I’m more afraid that he’s going to hurt me, or betray me, or be untrue to me in some way than I am sure that he’s completely on my team.

Why else wouldn’t I let him know about all of this stuff? Because I’m afraid he’s working on some mission for Daya that I’m not invited on? Because I’m afraid that I’m going to find out that he knows more about my family than I do and he’s been holding out on me?

Because I’m afraid I’m going to find out that, yet again, he’s part of some conspiracy to make me feel a certain way and act a certain way and think a certain way? That, like just about everyone else I’ve ever cared about, he’s not in this for me, he’s in it for someone else.

That one rings way more true than I want to admit. I sigh and sit back in my seat, my great mood squashed by the reality of my life.

“What’s wrong?” Noah asks, always aware of my mood. I consider telling him that I’m afraid. Consider telling him that I’m falling like crazy head over heels in love with him, that I’ve
been
falling crazy head over heels in love with him and I’m afraid that he’s gonna hurt me. That he’s gonna end up like Becca. Or Luke. Or Daya. Or Barnabe. That I’m going to let myself trust him only to find out that I’m just a pawn in some scheme of his and I mean nothing more to him than that.

I consider telling him that I want to know where I come from. That I want to know everything there is to know about my past and my present so that in the future, there aren’t any surprises to sneak up and catch me unaware. I want to tell him that I’m tired of not knowing things, of being unsure. Ignorance of my history landed me in huge mess after huge mess and I don’t want to do that anymore. I even consider telling him that I’m afraid he knows more about my history than he’s telling me. That’s he’s keeping important bits of information from me.

And just like that, the little storm cloud is back over my head again.

How can I tell him those things and not risk losing what we have? How do I tell him I don’t trust him and not hurt his feelings? Or worse, have him come out and tell me I’m right? The answer is simple. I can’t. I can’t say one word about it because in the end, talking about it won’t solve the problem. He either loves me or he doesn’t. He’s lying or he’s not. And if he
is
lying? Well, what’s to keep him from swooping me up, brushing the hair out of my eyes, and telling me everything’s gonna be OK? If he’s a liar then he’ll just keep right on lying.

It’s better to keep my heart under lock and key and enjoy this for what it is. I like being around Noah. The time we spend together is good. It’s good for me, trust issues aside. I just need to relax and enjoy what we have. If, in the end, it turns out to be fake on his part, well, at least I got to have fun while it lasted. Right?

Noah’s studying my face, waiting for my answer and I shrug. “It’s nothing really.”

“No. Zoe. Don’t do that. Don’t lock me out.” I’ve hurt his feelings and my stomach goes all twisty, lurching itself around, tying itself into knots. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Really, it’s nothing.” I smile and reach for his hand and give it a squeeze.

Noah’s eyebrows furrow and he sighs. Squeezes my hand in return and says nothing.

Shit.

I do
not
want to push him away. Not even a little. I’m tempted to spill my guts completely, but this isn’t the time or the place. The hiss of the espresso machine, the voices of the other customers mixing with the music coming over the speakers, there’s too much sound to allow for such a delicate conversation. And yet, he’s watched me struggle with something. I know how transparent my face is, how my emotions put on a little show for anyone who’s watching when I’m upset. If I tell him nothing’s wrong, he’s gonna know I’m lying. And there’s that first little wedge between us. The one I’m so afraid to discover is already there. And I’ll be the one to drive it into place.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal,” I say after a breath. My instincts are on fire and the tiger is roaring and pacing and swishing her tail and suddenly I wish I hadn’t had so much caffeine. I wrap my sweaty hands around my nearly empty cup and decide at the last minute to keep my fears to myself. I offer up Ty as the sacrificial lamb. “This guy’s been following me.”

Noah’s eyebrows launch into his hairline. “What kind of guy? Following you how?”

I explain how I’ve been feeling like I’ve been watched at home. How he’s been waiting for me at Windsor twice now. I’ve got an explanation for why I was there all ready to go in case Noah asks, but he’s more interested in what this guy wants. I tell him about what Ty asked me to do. How he threatened to tell other people about what I can do. How he’s trying to blackmail me into killing a vampire for him.

As I talk, I find more and more words. They come out, a great avalanche of fear and worry, and I find my hands shaking and my jaw quivering. I had no idea how much tension I’d been carrying around because of this guy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Noah asks.

“I didn’t think he was serious at first. Thought I was being silly.” I glance around and lower my voice. “I mean, I’m Zoe Tate. Bred to be the centerpiece of the Trinity. A serious badass witch and vampire slayer. Seems silly to let some rabid little wolf make me all afraid.”

“You still should have told me.

“I know. But it didn’t get really scary until today.”

He nods and I can see he understands even if he doesn’t necessarily like it. “Is that why you didn’t want to sit at home alone tonight?”

“It’s part of it. I also really wanted to see you. In person. Not via text. I feel so much better when I’m with you.”

“Ya. I’m a fan.” He’s trying to be light, but I can tell he’s distracted. Disturbed by the thought of me feeling unsafe in my home.

“So,” he says after a minute. “Are you really into bathroom sex or do you want to get out of here?”

There’s a moment where I’m crushed. I’m not done being with him, yet. I don’t want to go to my place and he go to his place and the two of us sleep in our separate beds with miles of space between us. And that has nothing to do with being scared and everything to do with how much I love being with Noah.

“I’m not ready to leave,” I say. “I like being with you.” And that right there, that was me being totally open and honest with him. I might as well have let him look right into my soul.

Noah laughs. “I’m most definitely ready to leave, but I’m not done being with you.” He stands and offers me his hand, pulls me in close and wraps his arm around my shoulder. Leans in and whispers. “Unlike you, I’m really not into bathroom sex that much.”

We gather our stuff and head outside. Turn on the cars and let them warm up a little while we stand out in the cold, not ready to put space between us until absolutely necessary. It’s not lost on me how Noah keeps his arm wrapped tightly around me, pulling me into him, protecting me.

“Come home with me,” he says.  

“Can’t. Kitten.” I look apologetic and he sighs. “Come home with me.”

He pretends to mull it over. “I don’t know. It’s awfully far away. And there’s all those icky trees. And no neighbors.”

“But I’ve a got big bed. More room to maneuver than your couch.”

“And we have a winner.” Noah kisses me, rubs his hands up my back and into my hair and I melt into him, disappointed when he pulls away. He opens the car door for me and closes it once I’m inside. Waits for me to lock it. Motions for me to roll down the window.

“I’ll follow you,” he says. And while he doesn’t finish the thought, I know it’s because he doesn’t want anyone else following me. I wait for him to get into his car before I pull out of the parking space and head out of the lot. My headlights sweep across the front of the building and a little shot of adrenaline hits my system because I swear I see Ty, arms crossed, leaning against the brick, yellow eyes tracking me as I go.