Personal Demon

HOPE: HUNGRY

I crossed the road and slipped into a back alley. A blast of night air knocked away the last haze of tequila. Karl had seen me with Jaz, on his lap, drunk and making a fool of-

I rubbed my face. I was twenty-seven, single and entitled to go out, get wasted and get laid.

I sensed Karl’s silent approach. I braced myself, and turned. And he was there, like so many times before, arriving unannounced, simply…appearing-in a parking lot, a grocery store, my living room. I’d glimpse the werewolf vision, look up and he’d be there, acting as if he’d just stepped out for a minute and returned.

As he strode down the alley, the shadows hid all but his shape. It didn’t matter. His image was ingrained in my brain. I glanced at the shadow and saw that handsome face, jawline a little too strong, nose a little too sharp, but the flaws only adding an edge, a masculinity that belied the perfect grooming, the designer clothes. A wolf in banker’s clothing, I’d tease, and he’d laugh and make a wry joke at his own expense, always the first to poke fun at the image he cultivated.

But tonight there was no laugh. No über-confident smile. His face was a stone mask, his gray-blue eyes as cold as if he’d been striding up to a stranger. I saw that, and my last glimmer of hope guttered out.

I tried to read him, but when he was angry, he kept his thoughts a swirl, no image or words concrete enough for me to pluck out.

“Sorry to tear you away,” he said, each word clipped.

I forced a grin and plucked at my sweaty T-shirt. “That’s okay. I could use a few minutes of fresh air.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Because, naturally, that’s the only explanation for being on a guy’s lap in a nightclub. Actually, I’m not drunk. Working on it, though. What I was doing was following orders. Yours, if I recall.”

“Orders?”

“Last thing you said to me. Before good-bye.” I frowned. “Or did you say good-bye? Come to think of it, I’m not sure. But I know you did say you thought I should date other supernaturals, more my own age. He’s a couple of years younger, but he is a supernatural, and half your age, so I figure that’s close enough.”

I wanted to stop. I imagined what my mother would do in this situation-and I wanted to be like her and to rise above it. But seeing him, I was back to that morning, in that grove, feeling his words like knives. And all I could think about now was stabbing him back.

I wished that night in the pool had never happened. I wanted things back the way they’d been, Karl back the way he’d been.

I imagined how this scene would have played out without that night. I could see it, Karl luring me off the dance floor, then slipping ahead and cornering me-literally cornering me, as he loved to do, backing me against a wall and getting so close all I could see, hear and smell was him and all I could think about was getting him close enough to feel him, to taste him.

He’d corner me, then tease me about the “boy” in the nightclub, daring me to give him five minutes and I’d forget there’d ever been a boy in a nightclub.

I could imagine his voice, arrogant and self-mocking at the same time, his tone light as if to say, “You can take me up on it if you want or we can pretend I’m only kidding.”

I wanted that back-that banter, that lighthearted seduction, that Karl, not the cold, scowling man three feet away, his gaze shunting to the alley mouth as if counting the seconds until he could escape.

“Tell Benicio to find you another job,” I said.

He frowned, brow creasing.

“I don’t know how he got in touch with you; I didn’t give him the number. I’m sorry if he dragged you back from Europe, but that’s something you need to take up with him. You aren’t needed here…or wanted.”

His shoulders tightened. Ego. That’s all it was-all it ever was with Karl. He’d pursued me, caught me and dumped me, and now he was annoyed because I wasn’t pining for him.

“Benicio didn’t call me,” he said. “I’m here because he should have. This is my debt.”

“No, it’s mine, and I have it under control.”

“So I saw.” His gaze slid in the direction of the club. “I suppose that’s one way to get information from a man.”

My fists clenched and I longed to smack him. Hit him as hard as I could, and make it hurt as much as he’d hurt me. But it wouldn’t hurt him at all. Nothing did.

I managed to smile and shrug. “Whatever works. That’s what you taught me. Go on home, Karl, wherever home is these days. This doesn’t concern you. Nothing I do concerns you anymore. You made that clear.”

He had the gall to look surprised. “I never said-”

“It was a long hunt, and probably not worth the reward, but you finally caught your prey. Congratulations, you’re every bit the irresistible stud you think you are. Now leave me alone. Please.”

I circled past him, heading back to the club. He grabbed my arm.

“Hope-”

He stopped, head jerking around, following some noise I couldn’t hear. His fingers tightened and he started down the alley, fingers still wrapped around my elbow. I dug in my heels. With his strength, it was the equivalent of a two-year-old balking, but the jolt was enough for him to realize I wasn’t following willingly.

He shot me an impatient scowl, annoyed that I should object to being dragged deeper into a dark alley. As I looked back, a shadow stretched over the street-lit alley mouth. Someone was coming. I shook Karl off and brushed past him, getting farther down the passage on my own.

Two club-goers slipped into the alley. A noise from Karl that I knew he’d call a mutter, but was indistinguishable from a dog’s low warning growl. He aimed a glare at the intruders, jaw tensing, and I knew he’d love nothing more than to stride down there and shoo them out-by the scruff of their necks if necessary. He was in this alley, therefore it was, for the moment, his territory. But, like the growl, he’d never admit to the impulse. He was a civilized man, not a half-wolf savage, and anyone who made that mistake would be quickly corrected.

So he settled for glowering at the intruders and pretending he felt no inclination to tear down there and kick their asses. They completed their transaction-drugs, I presume-and left. He watched them go, then turned to me, and when he did, the anger-all the anger-had faded from his eyes and he just looked tired.

“I need to discuss this with you, Hope, but it can wait until morning. Go back to your…friend.”

I thought of returning to Jaz, but the evening’s high had evaporated, and I wouldn’t find it again.

“No, let’s get this over with,” I said.

I TEXT MESSAGED Jaz, saying I was in trouble with my parents and had to get back to my apartment. He wouldn’t be happy, but I’d deal with that tomorrow…after I’d handled this and sent Karl on a fast plane home.

I told Karl what I’d done.

“I give him ten minutes to be at your apartment door.”

“He won’t.”

Karl snorted. “You think he’s just going to let it go at that? He-”

“He won’t because he doesn’t have my address.”

“No?”

“No.”

A grunt of something I couldn’t make out. He led me into a lot and toward a trio of cars-a Porsche, a Ferrari and a Lexus. I glanced at the Lexus. Nothing sporty or eye-catching-just sleek, powerful and luxurious. A banker’s car. I walked over to it. Not a rental sticker to be seen. I stopped at the passenger door. A blip of the key fob and the door opened. I got inside.

“This probably isn’t something we should discuss in a public place,” I said as he started the car. “Where’s your hotel?”

“I don’t have one. We can talk at your apartment.”

I tried to think of a way out of this that wouldn’t sound petty. When I couldn’t find one, I gave him directions.

WE DROVE A couple of miles in silence, then Karl said, “Back there in the alley. What you said about that morning, about what I said…it wasn’t like that.”

“You didn’t say it?”

He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “I meant that your interpretation wasn’t my intent.”

“How else does one interpret, ‘I’m leaving and I want you to date other guys’?”

A moment of silence, then, “You’re right.”

That’s all he said: you’re right.

More long moments of quiet, stretching into minutes. I cleared my throat. “I know this is awkward and you’re trying to make it less awkward, but that isn’t necessary. We’re going to bump into each other even after this business with Benicio. Maybe we’ll even have to work together through the council. That’s fine. I have no problem maintaining a professional relationship with you, Karl.”

“Professional relationship?”

“Yes, I can behave professionally, as shocking as that may seem.”

“That’s not-” A pause. “So that’s it then. You don’t want me coming around anymore.”

I wanted to scream, “What do you think?” But I knew what he thought. That whatever he’d done, when he showed up, his irresistibly charming self, I’d want him back. Not that I’d get him-he just liked to be wanted.

“No, Karl, I don’t want you coming around anymore.”

His jaw tightened and I expected it to stay locked for the rest of the trip, but after he turned the next corner, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

My stomach flipped; those words were so familiar. Werewolves have an abnormally high metabolism, meaning a normal restaurant meal is never enough. He’d often have one dinner at six and another at nine, just to avoid calling attention to himself by overeating. Tonight he probably hadn’t eaten at all, so he’d be starving. But to admit to it? That would be to give in to the wolf, to concede that there were some instincts and drives he couldn’t control.

So, when he was hungry, he’d ask if I was, and I’d long ago learned this was shorthand for, “Can we please get something to eat before I start gnawing on the furniture?” Sometimes I’d tease him, but usually I’d just play along and say yes. Then late one night, he’d come to my place hungry after the restaurants in town had closed, so I’d offered to cook for him. And after that, “Are you hungry?” became “Will you make me dinner?” And I always did because it was something I could do for him.

With Karl, taking wasn’t easy. If he went to dinner with one of his Pack mates, he’d always pay, and I’m sure they thought he was being generous-or racking up brownie points to redeem later-but the truth was he couldn’t stand to be indebted. So he’d visit me, he’d listen to me and he’d help me, but he’d never take anything in return…except home-cooked meals. So I did that for him-willingly and even happily.

And now, Karl was asking, “Are you hungry?” In some ways, that hurt more than all his jabs and icy glances.

“Restaurants are probably closed,” I said finally. “Maybe a drive-through?”

He scanned the dark street. “It doesn’t look promising. Do you have anything at the apartment?”

I shook my head.

“I see a convenience store at the next corner,” he said. “They’re bound to have groceries. I’ll buy-”

“No.” I took a quick breath. “No, Karl. I won’t.”

We drove the rest of the way in silence.