Page 31 of House of Wolves
I can’t take it anymore. After fifteen minutes, I break the silence. “Can I know where you’re taking me now?”
He contemplates for a moment but finally says, “Olympic Park.”
“Why so you can murder me and no one will hear me scream?” I’m only half kidding. My stomach flutters, thinking about being in such a remote location with him.
He deadpans. “You’re a werewolf, Carmen. I think you’ll be fine.”
I study his side profile, ignoring the perfect slope of his nose or the too-thick eyelashes that no male should be blessed with. Does he really believe what he’s saying? He’s much stronger than me for some reason, and I doubt it’s unknown to him. Of course, it’s rude to ask people about their supernatural origins. In our culture, you wait for people to reveal themselves. After centuries of monster hunting and villagers running our kind out of town with torches and pitchforks, it leads to a very taboo topic. We're comfortable talking about it once it’s shared, and we witness others in their other form. But until then, we keep our mouths shut.
I’m sick of niceties with Brick as if there was really any between us. “What are you exactly?”
He arches his neck in surprise and shoots me a look. “What am I?”
“Like, are you a Were?”
He clenches his fists on the steering wheel. “I thought it was obvious.”
“I can’t smell it on you.”
“Probably because I bathe.”
I chuckle. “Most Weres bathe, but I can still make out their scent.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“The truth?”
“I’m a Were, okay? But obviously, I’m not trying to tell the world.”
Words lodge at the back of my throat. This is the sentiment of my pack, a way to keep us safe from the Hunters. Ironic coming from his lips. He must be a traitor to his own kind. I can’t think of anything more pathetic. Anger lines my reserve. I’m supposed to lure him into my trap, but I can’t help myself. “Must be nice to have a choice on whether or not people know about your powers.” I cross my arms over my chest, letting my head rest against the window.
He’s silent for a moment. “That must have been hard.” I don’t reply, but he continues. “Growing up without the protection that your brother had, but with all the risk.”
“Cameron protected me,” I reply, more childlike than expected.
“I imagine you protected yourself a lot of the time.” The words wash over me. It’s true. I know this already—I have come to terms with it, even if it results in my callus exterior and drive to live fully without caution. I never know when it will be my turn to be overtaken by the Hunters. “Sometimes, I think I’m the fortunate one. I’ve survived out in the open. Others haven’t been so lucky in the shadows.” I drill my gaze into him, trying to catch something—remorse, hatred, anything.
He nods, his chest deflates, and his eyes take on a somber look. “It won’t be like this forever.”
“How do you know?”
“You might not think your words do much, but your exposés bring powerful people and their wrongdoings to light. With all of us working together, this will end.”
“But it’s worse now than ever before. Women are being taken and murdered.”
“It’ll end.” He takes his eyes off the road, staring into mine as if trying to deliver a message. There’s weight to his words and sadness behind his eyes. He’s a traitor. He’s proved this on multiple occasions, but staring at him now makes me feel like I’ve got something wrong and missing something.
“Shit,” he says, yanking his wheel just before he misses the turn to the National Park entrance. I’m rocked sideways but straighten myself once we bump along the dirt road leading to the park parking lot.
“What are we doing here?” I bark once he turns the car off.
“Jesus Christ, you are not fun to surprise.” He slams the door behind him, moving toward the backseat.
“I don’t know what gave you the idea I would be.” A mosquito bites my neck and pisses me off even more. I’m a creature of the woods. It’s not like I don’t enjoy outside activities; I just don’t feel particularly sexy surrounded by bugs, and I need all the sexy voodoo I can get for this date.
Brick walks toward the entrance of the woods, a picnic basket in hand. My heart softens a bit at the sight of him, even as he carries on without turning around to see if I’m following. He planned a picnic for us? I can’t deny the thought pulls at my heartstrings and dampens my panties. I kick the attitude as I follow him, eager to discover more about his role in this mystery and learn about the man behind the brick exterior.
“Have you ever been mushroom foraging before?” he asks once I’ve caught up with him. Fractured light bursts through the canopy of leaves overhead, and songbirds call in the distance.
