no?”
It took him a second to even understand what she was saying. It was…. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I don’t know if it’s ever happened.”
“What about Frieda?”
“What about Frieda?” he asked.
“Is it…it’s not because she’s gay, is it?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “But she doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s comfortable in a crowd. You’ve taught. You’re good with people. That’s the biggest thing.”
“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” she said. “What do you do, as the head of the clan? Just…order people around?”
“It usually doesn’t come to that,” he said. “Mostly it’s guidance. Keeping the wolves out of the public eye, making sure everyone behaves.”
“I don’t know about that.” She put down her pencil. “I mean, don’t I do enough of that already? I have to do it in my free time, now?”
“Usually for us, the clan comes first. Our jobs are what we do in our free time.”
“Us?”
“I’m an alpha,” he said. “Since my father died. The lineage isn’t always that direct, but it was for me.”
“But you think it’s just…it’s just this thing. Tribute. Like taxes. Only in dead animals.”
“Sort of?” He wasn’t sure how much detail he should get into.
She was still thinking over everything he’d said. “I love my job,” she said. “I don’t…I don’t want to be a Queen first and a teacher second.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d always been a werewolf first. She hadn’t even known. He didn’t know how he could help her. He reached out a hand and touched her wrist.
That was a mistake.
The pain seared across his palm. Silver. He let go, but it wasn’t quick enough; the metal had left a mark, and it throbbed.
“Oh my God,” she said. “I’m so sorry—are you all right?”
“Silver,” he said. “Didn’t…didn’t notice you were wearing it.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, pulling the bracelet off and slamming it on the table. “Can I—would aloe or something work? Burn cream? I—I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. Mostly all he could think about was the pain. “Um. Maybe if you have some burn cream?” Was it blistering? He stared at it, hoping he could figure it out.
“Shit,” she said. “Does that—do werewolves heal fast? Tell me you heal fast?”
“Normally,” he said. “Not silver. Hurts.”
She disappeared and reappeared with a tube of something…oh yeah. Burn cream. She took his hand. “Okay,” she said. “Hold still.”
“Hands are soft,” he said.
“You maybe ought to lie down,” she said.
“I’ll be okay,” he said. “I will.”
“Why don’t you lie down anyway?” Her hand was really warm. Really soft. It helped him think about something other than his hand. Her bedroom smelled nice. Like her. Like home.
“Wanna take off my shoes….”
“I’ll get your shoes,” she said, and it was so nice of her, she did, untying them, slipping them off—
He closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain.
When he woke, he was in…Lucy’s room. Lucy’s bedroom. Lucy’s bed. Oh, shit.
His hand still felt raw. He hadn’t had that bad a reaction to silver in a long time. Maybe it was because it was wielded by a Queen. Maybe he was just overtired. He’d run all night doing security with Ian and he was still dealing with jet lag.
He sat up.
Lucy was sitting on her couch reading. “Hey,” he said. “Thanks.”
She looked up at him, her face full of concern. “How are you feeling?”
“All right,” he said. “Hit me pretty hard. Gonna blame it on jet lag.”
“Does silver always—”
“It’s like an allergy,” he said. “Usually…usually it’s not that bad.” He felt tired, still, and achy, but not that bad. “Like I said, it was probably the jet lag.”
“Why can I wear it?”
He shrugged. “Because you can’t transform. You have to wield power somehow. So you can use silver,
It took him a second to even understand what she was saying. It was…. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I don’t know if it’s ever happened.”
“What about Frieda?”
“What about Frieda?” he asked.
“Is it…it’s not because she’s gay, is it?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “But she doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s comfortable in a crowd. You’ve taught. You’re good with people. That’s the biggest thing.”
“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” she said. “What do you do, as the head of the clan? Just…order people around?”
“It usually doesn’t come to that,” he said. “Mostly it’s guidance. Keeping the wolves out of the public eye, making sure everyone behaves.”
“I don’t know about that.” She put down her pencil. “I mean, don’t I do enough of that already? I have to do it in my free time, now?”
“Usually for us, the clan comes first. Our jobs are what we do in our free time.”
“Us?”
“I’m an alpha,” he said. “Since my father died. The lineage isn’t always that direct, but it was for me.”
“But you think it’s just…it’s just this thing. Tribute. Like taxes. Only in dead animals.”
“Sort of?” He wasn’t sure how much detail he should get into.
She was still thinking over everything he’d said. “I love my job,” she said. “I don’t…I don’t want to be a Queen first and a teacher second.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d always been a werewolf first. She hadn’t even known. He didn’t know how he could help her. He reached out a hand and touched her wrist.
That was a mistake.
The pain seared across his palm. Silver. He let go, but it wasn’t quick enough; the metal had left a mark, and it throbbed.
“Oh my God,” she said. “I’m so sorry—are you all right?”
“Silver,” he said. “Didn’t…didn’t notice you were wearing it.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, pulling the bracelet off and slamming it on the table. “Can I—would aloe or something work? Burn cream? I—I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. Mostly all he could think about was the pain. “Um. Maybe if you have some burn cream?” Was it blistering? He stared at it, hoping he could figure it out.
“Shit,” she said. “Does that—do werewolves heal fast? Tell me you heal fast?”
“Normally,” he said. “Not silver. Hurts.”
She disappeared and reappeared with a tube of something…oh yeah. Burn cream. She took his hand. “Okay,” she said. “Hold still.”
“Hands are soft,” he said.
“You maybe ought to lie down,” she said.
“I’ll be okay,” he said. “I will.”
“Why don’t you lie down anyway?” Her hand was really warm. Really soft. It helped him think about something other than his hand. Her bedroom smelled nice. Like her. Like home.
“Wanna take off my shoes….”
“I’ll get your shoes,” she said, and it was so nice of her, she did, untying them, slipping them off—
He closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain.
When he woke, he was in…Lucy’s room. Lucy’s bedroom. Lucy’s bed. Oh, shit.
His hand still felt raw. He hadn’t had that bad a reaction to silver in a long time. Maybe it was because it was wielded by a Queen. Maybe he was just overtired. He’d run all night doing security with Ian and he was still dealing with jet lag.
He sat up.
Lucy was sitting on her couch reading. “Hey,” he said. “Thanks.”
She looked up at him, her face full of concern. “How are you feeling?”
“All right,” he said. “Hit me pretty hard. Gonna blame it on jet lag.”
“Does silver always—”
“It’s like an allergy,” he said. “Usually…usually it’s not that bad.” He felt tired, still, and achy, but not that bad. “Like I said, it was probably the jet lag.”
“Why can I wear it?”
He shrugged. “Because you can’t transform. You have to wield power somehow. So you can use silver,
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