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Desmond had backed a thin, tall man into a corner. The fae male was quivering like a leaf, and his fear would only egg the angry werewolf on.
“You’re getting him riled up,” I said. “Try to calm down.
”
Desmond’s head whipped around, his typically violet-gray eyes more lupine than human now. I didn’t know how much of him was in there, or if any of the man remained. Once he shifted back he’d be himself again, but I couldn’t count on the inherent goodness of Desmond’s human half to help me out here. I had to treat him like a monster, not my boyfriend.
“E-e-easy for you to say,” the fae replied.
Wolf-Desmond was staring at my gun, which I had pointed at his shoulder. With a real monster I’d have pointed it at his head, but if he made a sudden movement to attack me or the man, and my immediate reaction was to shoot, I didn’t want to kill him just because I’d been trained to.
“What’s your name?” I asked, speaking to the fae but not taking my attention off Desmond. The wolf gave a low, angry growl. I didn’t need my internal wolf to translate for me. The meaning was clear. This food is mine, back the fuck off. His ears were folded tight against his head, and he was showing a lot of fang. Considering how much bigger in human form Desmond was than me—standing almost a foot over me—his wolf must have outweighed me by a hundred pounds.
“What’s your name?” I repeated.
“Zuzu,” he managed to spit out. “P-pl-please help me. ”
I was skirting the edge of the room now, trying to get closer without Desmond realizing what I was doing. I was also trying to figure out how anyone, in any reality, could name their kid Zuzu.
“I’m going to help you, Zuzu. ”
“Please. ”
“I will, but I can’t just say here, wolfy wolfy, good doggy, ya know? He’s not that well trained. ”
In response, the wolf snarled at me.
“I thought he was yours. ”
“He is. ” I glared defiantly at Desmond. “But sometimes he doesn’t recognize my authority. ”
The wolf gave a sneer, curling one lip higher to expose more fang.
“Ma’am…”
“You need to try calming down, Zuzu. ” I hated to keep saying his name because it was bloody ridiculous, but I needed the guy to keep his attention on me and not the wolf. Maybe using some old-school hostage-negotiating tactics would help.
Unfortunately for me, the hostage taker in this case was a werewolf with no human control, and my only frame of reference for dealing with this kind of situation was repeated viewings of the Kevin Spacey movie The Negotiator. I asked myself, What would Kevin Spacey do?
He’d give a rousing monologue and collect a hundred Oscars.
That didn’t help me much.
“Take a deep breath,” I instructed.
“Oh-o-kay. ” His deep breath sounded like forty-five small ones.
“One more time. ”
He tried again, and this time managed to take one big breath. Which he held.
“Let it out,” I told him.
He sputtered.
The whole time I kept watching Desmond, and the wolf kept watching me. I didn’t want to shoot him, but I didn’t know how to subdue him. I was supposed to be Queen, but I didn’t have the first fucking clue how to make him yield to my power.
My wolf might know, but could I let her have that kind of control without her stabbing me in the back and running wild with it?
