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“That’s because it is,” he says, then calls over his shoulder, “Except protecting you two, of course.”
Rune groans as he pushes to his feet. “Great, he’s in a mood.”
“When isn’t he?” Jules remarks.
“Good point.” Rune tucks the knife he was sharpening into an ankle holster then nods his head at me. “Good afternoon, Lake.”
“Afternoon?” I question. “Is it that late already?”
Rune nods then walks past me, striding for the front door. Legend follows him, fiddling with a pocket watch he fishes out of his pocket.
“Man, I feel lazy,” I mutter as Jules tangles his fingers through mine.
I start to pull away, but then stop myself. I don’t even know why, other than part of me wants to hold his hand. Perhaps all those years in foster homes has me starved for human connection. Then again, neither of us are human.
“You’re not lazy,” Jules insists as we stroll out the front door behind Shade and Legend. Rune remains walking behind us. “You’ve had an intense forty-eight hours.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been asleep for a lot of those hours.” I squint against the sunlight as we trot down the stairs and step onto a dusty road. “Seems like I should be more awake than I feel. Maybe I have jet lag or something.”
“Jet lag?” Jules questions.
“It’s a human term for a tired spout that comes usually after flying on a plane.” I glance at him. “You know what a plane is, right?”
“Those things that fly in the air?”
“Do you have them here?”
He chuckles. “No, we have teleportation.”
“That sounds way better than flying,” I admit, my gaze roving along the quaint homes and stores lining the street.
“It is.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “See, it’s not so bad here, right?”
I waver. “It’s not that I think it’s bad here. It’s just scary and unfamiliar.”
“You don’t need to be scared.” Jules hitches his thumb at Rune walking behind us and then at Shade ahead of us. “They won’t let anything happen to you.”
I smile, but the move is forced. My uneasiness only increases as werewolves wander out from their homes and stores to gawk at us, some appearing mildly curious, others pissed off.
“Why are they staring at us?” I whisper low to Jules. “And why do some of them seem pissed off?”
“They’re just curious about you,” he tries to reassure me. “None of them are pissed off.”
Yeah, tell that to the group of male and female werewolves standing on the corner of the street near Silver Death Bar.
I look away from the group as we near them. “Do they know who I am?”
“Some do, but don’t worry; no one here is going to hurt you. This is your pack, Lake. And packs protect their own.”
I hope he’s right; otherwise, the werewolves who attacked me could be living here.
My pulse rapidly speeds up. Why hadn’t I thought of that before?
My gaze darts around the street, searching for my attackers. But there are so many werewolves around.
My head begins to spin with anxious dizziness. Luckily, Jules leads me off the main road and down a small, isolated dirt path that snakes into the forest.
As we near the trees, we pass by a bush of thorny vines. Jules maneuvers me to the opposite side of the path and positions himself between me and the ill-striking bushes. His protective nature is so instinctive I wonder if he acts this way with everyone.
