My Wolf's Bane (19 page)

“You don’t smell like other people,” he whispered.

I froze, a blind fury brewing. “Excuse me?”

He backed up. “I mean, you don’t smell like a normal person.”

“Your clarification is
not
flattering.” Here I was, feeling foolish and love-struck waiting for his goodnight kiss, maybe even a make-out session, and that’s what I got — an insult? Oh, I wanted to wring his neck. I wanted to pound on him, smash him to itty bitty pieces. “You convince me to go out with you guys, ignore me all night, then insult me? I smell
not normal
? You’ve been rude before, Zack De Luca, but this beats them all. I’d like you to leave. Now.”

He stared at me like he was surprised. Or confused. He’d told me I stunk. Did he expect me to get turned on, because my smelling offensive made
him
irresistible?

“Autumn, that’s not what I meant.”

“So I
do
smell normal?”

“Well, no—”

“Out.” I glared and pointed to the doorway.

“Wait. Let me explain.”

“Is English not your first language?” I growled, my jaws clenched.

He held up both hands in surrender and backed away, through the door and down the steps. I slammed the door and peeked out the window. He was still staring at the house.

Damn it. I was so furious my arms and legs trembled. My stomach twisted up and I wanted to howl at the sky. I bolted upstairs to change into my running clothes, needing to get out before I exploded.

Dressed, I flew down the steps. With my hand on the doorknob, I stopped. Zack hadn’t said I smelled
bad
but that I didn’t smell like a
normal person
. Strange choice of words. When I kicked him out, he looked stunned, not angry. Did he know something about me? If so, what?

And how the hell did he know about the black wolf?

Closing my eyes and inhaling deeply, I took a moment to calm myself before peeking out the window. Zack was gone. I needed to talk to him, but pounding on his door this late and waking his mother wasn’t an option. She needed her sleep. Besides, whoever answered might assume I came for a booty call. Unacceptable.

I would go for my run, email my parents, then get to bed. Tomorrow, I’d have plenty of opportunities to grill him.

Or kill him.

I raced to the meadow, my head swimming with thoughts of Zack and freaky scenarios. Impossible things were happening with my body, so how could I believe those kinds of impossibilities belonged only to me? Someone, somewhere could be going through the same thing. Maybe even Zack.

Earlier at Bigger Burgers, he hadn’t seemed shocked like the others over the rumor of Daniel and the wolf. Plus, his sense of smell was awfully good and he seemed unusually strong for his age. In fact…. he behaved eerily similar to my black wolf and I couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d joked a few days ago about actually being a werewolf.

Was it possible he was a werewolf? Could werewolves exist in real life?

I stood immobilized in the center of the clearing, balling my fists. No, there were no such things as werewolves. Trevor’s theory was probably right and Jeff had made up the story to avoid getting into trouble. Or he had an alcohol induced hallucination.

Or maybe my special abilities gave me an unusual scent and Zack had a very good sense of smell. It could be as simple as that. I closed my eyes again, feeling nature around me and inhaling the fragrance of moss and pine.

Yes, that’s it. Zack was a normal teenager and there were no creatures that went bump in the night.

I sensed him before I saw him. He came into view, my black wolf, approaching me slowly. About a yard away, he sat in front of me.

“You didn’t attack Daniel, did you?”

He whined and lowered his belly to the ground.

“No, of course you didn’t.” Such a strange creature. My mind reeled, but I was tired of thinking. I needed to get on with my run and get home to bed. “Race you around the meadow?”

I took off, darting along the trees that bordered the clearing. After a couple laps, I dashed through the forest and leaped as high as I could. I soared, skimming the top of a tree and landing on the other side of it, then rocketed back to the clearing and skidded to a stop several feet from the wolf.

He hadn’t moved. Standing on all fours, his ears stood straight up, tail down, eyes trained on me.

Holding out the back of my hand for him to sniff, I slowly moved toward him. He nearly touched my hand, blowing out quick breaths and warming my skin. I held very still as he edged even closer, dragging his wet nose up my arm and around my waist, circling me. Then he stood on his hind legs and laid a gentle paw on my shoulder, burying his muzzle in my neck and hair.

Holy crap. I had a wild wolf all over me.

He sucked in a long breath and exhaled at the back of my neck. I imagined that’s how Zack would sniff me. If I let him. Chills danced on my skin and tranquility washed over me as I ran a hand over his shoulder, my fingers reveling in his silky fur.

I stared at the wolf who was still eye level with me. “Oh my God.”

Zack was not a werewolf, damn it. He wasn’t. It was absurd to consider such a thing. Having super-human strength was one thing. Morphing into a completely different form was absolutely preposterous.

I stepped back and created distance between me and the wolf. “I have to go,” I mumbled, backing further away. Once in the trees, I hit the dirt at a dead run.

† † †

At nine o’ clock sharp the next morning, Zack rang the doorbell. He wore jeans and a work shirt, his sleeves pushed up, hair messy. He’d never looked better.

I flung the door open and folded my arms over my chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His mouth curved up. “Talk about what?”

“What I smell like. Besides, by now, you already know.” I took in a slow, deep breath. Yeah, I’d wanted Zack to explain himself last night, but since my most recent encounter with the wolf, I already suspected I was going insane — I didn’t want it confirmed. Not just yet anyway. “We’ll car shop and when we’re done for the day, we’ll go our separate ways.”

“What will I tell my mom and Aunt Cara when they ask why you declined their dinner invitation for tonight?” He smiled smugly.

I could feel my eye twitch. “What’s Cara making for dinner?”

“Spaghetti and
meat
balls.” He lifted one brow.

Bastard. “Fine. After dinner, we’re done.”

He gave me his lopsided grin, displaying the lone dimple. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” I grabbed my purse and we jumped into his car. “What’s with the shovel on the back of the Jeep?”

“Never know when you’ll need to bury a body.”

I stared at him.

“I’m teasing, Autumn.” He gave a quick laugh. “These vehicles are made for off-roading. Sometimes you need to dig yourself out of a ditch.”

I could totally picture Zack doing something like that, all rugged and manly. “Doesn’t seem to be helping you dig yourself out of the pile of crap you fell in last night.”

“If you’d let me explain—”

I held up a hand. “Not necessary. Really.”

At a stop sign, he held up a piece of paper, then set it on the dashboard and drove again.

“What’s that?”

“The address to a car I thought we’d check out. It’s close by.”

“What kind?”

“Mustang.”

I made a face. “A muscle car.”

“I guess so. They’re not known for being great on gas, but they’re not too bad and the miles on this one are low.” Checking to make sure the road was clear, he switched lanes. “Give it a chance. You never know what you’ll like unless you try.”

Several minutes later, we pulled up to a curb. A small yard artfully crowded with lush shrubbery and colorful blooms surrounded a little brick house. I’d been uneasy about buying a car from a private party, feeling safer getting something from a dealership that checked and rechecked their cars for quality. In theory anyway. My worries dissipated as I inhaled the fragrance of the flowers. Anyone who put this much care into their garden wouldn’t neglect a car, would they?

We knocked and moments later, a gray-haired man opened the door. He was so old that you could no longer tell his age. Seventy? Ninety?

“Mr. Peters?” When the man nodded, Zack continued. “Hi, I’m Zack. We spoke on the phone earlier this morning?”

Wow. Zack must have called before he came to my house. Calling that early on a Sunday? Impressive.

“This is Autumn. She’s the one looking for a car.”

The man smiled, but his eyes seemed sad. “Hang on. Let me get the key.”

Mr. Peters returned and took his time leading us to the side of the house. He held out a remote and the garage door slowly opened.

I couldn’t see what was under the cover. The old man shuffled over to the rear of the garage and lifted a corner of the giant stretch of gray cloth.

“Let me help.” Zack hurried over to the other side and, inch by inch, they unveiled a silver convertible Mustang.

There had to be something really wrong with it, because it was too pretty to be within my budget. Freakishly high miles or a missing engine?

Mr. Peters popped the hood and disappeared behind it with Zack, who fired off questions. I had no idea what they were talking about, so I amused myself by examining the body. The top was already down and I could readily see the interior, which appeared clean. Circling the car, I noted the shiny rims and glossy paint. In the bright morning sunshine, I saw a sprinkling of chips in the paint. My Taurus was riddled with that sort of thing, most likely caused by spraying gravel. You couldn’t miss them. On the Mustang though, it wasn’t noticeable unless you examined it closely.

“What year is this?” I asked.

Zack peeked out from behind the hood. “It’s five-years-old.” He vanished again.

I slid behind the driver’s seat and poked around. It had forty-two thousand miles on it. Working my way back to the front and under the hood, I listened as Zack asked about the engine modifications and horsepower. Mr. Peters replied, but his words meant nothing to me. Zack seemed impressed, nodding and raising his brows.

“Can we take it out? We’d like to drive it to make sure she likes it. Then me, to see if it’s sound.” He gazed down at the engine. “Although I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“Why are you selling it?” I asked.

“It was my son’s. He loved this car.” The man’s eyes moistened, his gaze dropping to the concrete floor of the garage, chin quivering. “He doesn’t need it anymore.”

Zack just stared without speaking.

His son must have died. Or something else terrible. How awful.

“No need to look at me like that, young lady. It’s not
all
bad. My son left me two wonderful grandchildren.” Mr. Peters patted my hand, then slowly moved several feet to the passenger side and got in. “C’mon. Let’s take this baby for a spin.”

I lagged behind, tugging on Zack’s arm. “How much is this thing?” I hissed.

“You’d been saving up for a car before your parents chipped in, right? Use some of that.”

I gasped. “What? You dragged me out here for a car
over
fifteen?”

“Sshh. He’s selling it for exactly fifteen, but I know some of your money is going to the shop. I was hoping to negotiate, but now I know something happened to his son, it would feel wrong.” He nodded toward the driver’s side. “Come on. You’re up first.”

Damn. Even if I liked it, I couldn’t buy it. Unable to resist, I climbed in anyway.

The car rode like a dream and the longer I drove it, the easier I imagined owning it. My hair whipping around and tickling my face didn’t bother me at all, like I’d thought it would. In fact, it made me feel free, like I was running through the woods.

I slowed to a stop at a red light, noting the smooth braking. When it was green, I gunned the engine and watched in the rearview mirror as Zack’s head snapped back. “Sorry,” I told Mr. Peters who sat to my right.