Unconventionally Wolf by Julie Steimle (read 50 shades of grey TXT) 📕

Squaring his shoulders, Tommy peered with offish gaze at the hunter. "Well, I do happen to have an affinity for the animals of the land of my ancestors, and I know a thing or two more about the inner psyche of wolves than you do."

The hunter snorted.

"Matthew Hague, what are you doing here?" Tommy Whitefeather said approaching him.

Shrugging, the burly hunter said, "Just helping a friend out." He then peered over at Rick. "I have it on good authority that your current friend is responsible for the death of George Zeballos."

"George followed him into a black hole—something he should have known not to do," Tommy retorted. "It was Mr. Zeballos's own fault."

The hunter glowered at him

"A what?" Rick asked, pushing past his guards to get to Tommy, unfamiliar with the term outside of astronomy.

Matthew Hague peered at Rick, intrigued that Rick honestly didn't know what a black hole was. He was even more intrigued that Rick was so impulsive and not lingering where he was safest. With a huffing laugh of disbelief, he said to Rick, "A black hole, wolf. A dangerous patch of land where if you go in, you don't come out. Except you did."

Rick stared at him for a moment, confused, then shook his head and turned to Tommy. "There was no black hole where I was. Just forested land and a ghost town." Then he pointedly looked to the hunter. "With no ghosts, I might add. There was no hole of any kind."

Dryly nodding, Tommy said, "Not literally. A black hole is what we in the SRA call a place hunters fear to tread. You went in and out because you weren't in danger, apparently."

Rick lifted his eyebrows. So, Wolverton had been a hunters' black hole? But of course… It made complete sense why. If a hunter entered their territory and attempted to take on the entire pack, he was dead. It wasn't some kind of magical trap, but rather a hunter getting in over his head. Rick nodded slowly, peeking once at Carl who seemed mildly surprised.

"What other black holes exist?" Rick murmured.

"I would assume Middleton Village is one," James whispered to him.

Tommy nodded. "That's right. Mostly because of the witches, though."

"And I wouldn't be surprised if the forest near Eve McAllister's hometown was a black hole, because of the vampires in the nearby mountains," James added.

Matthew Hague peered at James narrowly. As a relative to the McDillans, it was possible he knew of that one, as his uncle Brian lived in Cliffcoast, Eve's town.

"Do you know of any others?" Rick wondered out loud, thinking of all the places he knew werewolf packs lived. 

"Wouldn't you like to know," Matthew Hague said with a sneer. He then looked to James. "Who are you and why are you siding with a wolf?"

James stared back, not impressed. "I'm his friend. What of it?"

"Don't you know what he is?" Matthew Hague demanded through grinding teeth.

Blinking, James nodded. "Sure I do. But me and my friends judge people on their behavior and not on their genetics. You know… not being prejudiced. It's a good thing."

That hunter laughed. He gazed at James as if he were an idiot and shook his head. "Kid, you know nothing about—"

James took a sharp step towards him, faster than the hunter could react. "I'm not a kid, you creep. I'm one of the Holy Seven, and I have lived a lifetime in another world already."

Matthew Hague paled, and pulled back. "You're what?"

Nodding, James eyed him carefully. "I'd show you my Id, but I don't think I should waste it on you. But so you know, we are protecting the Deacon family. So you'd better stay away if you know what is good for you."

The hunter stepped back, staring at him. But then he turned his eyes on Rick. "I have only one question for you, wolf. Rumor is that you had your first transformation when you were thirteen."

Rick did not answer. They were in a public place and despite all the noise going on around them, anyone could be listening.

The hunter continued. "And it is said that when you changed, you attacked your own mother."

"That isn't true," Rick bit back.

Carl rested a hand on Rick's shoulder to calm him.

"But she did leave Middleton Village right after a full moon," Matthew Hague said, "And returned to New York City telling tales of you becoming a wolf and attacking her."

The muscles in Rick's neck and chest stiffened.

James put a hand on his other shoulder, reminding him he wasn't alone and not everyone believed such tales.

"And when she divorced your father, she gave him full custody of you, as—and I quote from the file—she 'didn't want to have anything to do with either of them'—meaning you—'again'." The hunter grinned maliciously at him. "Is that not true?"

Rick's eyes stung, fighting tears. But he said nothing, clenching his jaw.

Not getting a satisfactory reaction, the hunter continued, "It is a shame she was institutionalized by her parents—your grandparents. I heard when you found out about it, you were at some New York Junior League soiree, or something or that sort. And you completely embarrassed yourself with an emotional breakdown."

Feeling his face go hot, Rick's heart was now pounding.

"Which part bothered you more—?"

"That's enough," Tommy said, pushing Matthew Hague back from them.

"—that you found out they thought your mother was crazy? Or that she busted out of the asylum and no one knows where she is?"

"I said, that's enough," Tommy snapped back, standing in Matthew Hague's face so he could no longer harass Rick.

But the hunter side-stepped and called out, "She's probably eating out of garbage cans right now, living in cardboard boxes, and begging for loose change somewhere—"

Rick's hackles raised. James and Carl gently held him back.

"Or more likely, because she was a hottie, she’s working the streets right now." Matthew Hague leered. "Getting daily action for—"

"Shut up about my mom!" Rick nearly leapt from their arms. James had to grab him with both hands to hold him back. So did his bodyguards.

Tommy pushed Matthew Hague away, but the hunter was cackling.

Security was almost immediately there. At Carl's request, Matthew Hague was escorted from the convention—though they doubted he would remain out of it for long. They had long noticed that the hunters were getting back inside with ease. The question was, were they sneaking back in, or were they being allowed back into the convention by someone on the inside. And if so, by whom?

Rick was shaking. Not just from anger, but out of sheer nerves. It was like they were attacking him at every corner. If they weren't going after his allergies, they were messing with his wolf hearing. And if they weren't doing that, they were going after his character, and finally those he was worried to death about.

Fact was, Rick was terrified for his mother. He had no clue where she was. If she was safe. If she was alive even. And even though she had rejected him once he had become a full-fledged werewolf, he was in agony over what had happened to her. It wasn't her fault that she had freaked out. Who wouldn’t have? He had freaked out also. That moment when he had become a werewolf had terrified him. And it had torn his life apart.

"Breathe in and breathe out," Carl whispered near his ear. "You can get through this."

Rick nodded, obeying. He had to. There was no running away.

But immediately his mind went to Daisy, contradicting that thought entirely. He most definitely had a chance to run away. He could just leave it all and enter into the black hole that was the Wolverton pack and escape all of this pressure and the perpetual hunt forever. Remy could inherit instead. He was more than capable and a great deal more respectable than he was—besides older. And he, Rick Deacon, could be free.

But as Rick glanced up to Carl, then James's inspecting eyes, he knew that was a foolish thought. First off, they would not let him run away. And secondly, hunters followed the Deacons everywhere. If anything, he would just end up leading the SRA to Wolverton, and then more people would suffer because of him—mostly the hunters. But that was bad enough.

"Read your paper again," Carl whispered next to his ear so that it was barely imperceptible except for Rick.

Cringing, Rick peeked once to James then nodded. Carl could probably tell what he was thinking about.

Stepping out of foot traffic back into the recessed doorway the hunter had just been in, Rick took out his wallet and went over the list again. But really, as Rick stared at both sides he considered the sad fact that there was no way he would ever even find a woman who fit his first list. No one would accept the wolf in him except a wolf or a person severely steeped in the supernatural world. His grandmother had been a rare woman. His father would not have been able to marry his mother if he had revealed to her what he truly was. Also, the words of the Loup Garou haunted him. It might already be too late. Daisy might have ended up as his only option. Besides his preoccupation with her, he had also noticed that most other women just smelled off to him. None compared to Daisy's sweet scent, the scent he desperately craved.

"What’s that?" James asked.

Tucking it away, Rick muttered, "Nothing." He then looked to the rest of the convention. "You said there were some elves we needed to see. Lead the way."

Gazing at him with unmasked dismay, James heaved a sigh then shrugged. He led out his arm. "Ok. They're this way."

They had to meander through the area toward a rather pungent part of the conference. Someone had brought in odorous plants at one booth as part of their display. They were talking about re-greening the earth and going back to natural homeopathic medicine. Though it was interesting to look at, James inched away from it and nudged Rick along so he could not get drawn in—especially considering Rick's sensitivity to smells.

"Herbalist…" James muttered. "I can never tell if they are just really into plants or actually witches in disguise."

Rick looked around him at the booth for a better look, but Carl dragged him away before the people running the booth could get a good look at him. But he did see three people amidst the potted plants and posters who were wearing clothes with subtle pagan designs on them. One had a Thor's hammer charm on a strap around his neck. There were Celtic designs within the decor. But that just seemed to be a style thing more than anything else.

"Most likely a witch," Carl muttered.

Tommy Whitefeather looked back, wondering. Then he nudged James. "Do you sense anything?"

James shook his head. "No. But a lot of magic is dormant and difficult to feel when supernatural beings are about." He gestured with his eyes to Rick.

Repressing a moan, Rick knew he was probably affecting James's ability to sense other magical threats. James's palm burned whenever magic was happening, or when a powerful supernatural being was near. He could even detect the direction, which was handy as a member of the Holy Seven.

James finally led Rick to a simple Plant a Tree booth where the attendants were passing out seed packets and addresses for local plant nurseries. To the naked human eye, the four attendants there had the appearance of indigenous natives to the American Great Plains in tee shirts and jeans. They had various feathers dangling from their dark hair along with braids and the like. But their faces were a little more angular than the typical Native American, with pointier chins. And the tops of their ears were peculiarly covered. Rick could tell Tommy recognized the difference quickly as the man stepped with a larger stride toward