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

James looked impressed.

"I think…" Rick shook his head. "When I am using my brain to think it over, I am sure that Daisy just said what she said to make herself sound smarter so that I would be more attracted to her. I mean, she had confessed that she was following what the pack elders had asked them to do—to entice me to mate with a she-wolf in their pack. And she told me herself that she had researched me. The mind-bending thing about it all is that when she genuinely confessed to me what she had done and then afterward gave me that line that she had also lost control when she was with me—I bought it. I got sucked in even more and did everything she wanted."

"Because you like genuine people," James said, admittedly sorry for him.

Rick laughed, nodding. "Exactly. I was being played. The local he-wolves even said to my face that I was totally whipped. And they were right. And what scares me is that all she has to do, even now, is call me or spread her scent where I can smell it, and I am hers."

"Wow." James shook his head, as he took all this in, watching Rick’s face as he thought over it. "She really has got her claws into you."

Rick closed his eyes. "I think it is even worse than that. You know that group I had you lead me to before my first panel?"

James nodded.

Cringing, Rick peeked to him. "They are also from a wolf pack."

Nodding slowly, James waited, listening. But Rick could see the cogs working in James’s brain, adding up what he had overheard and observed.

"They were also after me for the same thing, but I was successful in getting away," Rick explained. "Their tactics were pretty blatant, you see. And I was bullied rather than manipulated."

Snorting, James nodded more.

"And I sort of caused a rift between their pack and my father." Rick shook his head. "They came here to mend the rift and possibly make a deal with Dad—though Dad had decided that I was the one to decide whether or not to make peace with them. Don't tell Carl. I don't think he realizes they were wolves. It's kind of a huge secret."

The look in James's eyes said 'huge secret indeed'. And though Rick could see James understood that he had not been told all, James let it pass. He was patient. And his encounter with them had left the impression that they were not a threat—yet.

That's when a thought occurred to Rick. He looked to James. "Did Dad tell the Seven about the pack in Alabama? Or is today the first time you heard about them?"

Visibly, Rick saw an apologetic cringe pass through James. Slowly, James nodded. "Uh… actually yes. He had told us about the pack which wanted you. He didn't tell us where they had moved to, but he wanted us to protect you from them."

Rick paled. "Did he give you all the details…?"

James shook his head. "He wanted you to tell us. He only said that a werewolf pack (which was tentatively under his protection) was trying to steal you away from him with a very sneaky trick. No details…. Except there was a she-wolf involved."

That really was enough information. No wonder Andrew wasn't shocked. He had been prepared.

But James's words also sank into Rick like a heavy blanket. His father believed the pack was trying to steal him away. Which technically was true. Rick had just never seen it like that. He could not imagine the pack taking him from his father entirely, even if he did run away from home. Rick had too many friends for any one group to steal him away. He had Tom Brown, for pity's sake. Tom alone could torment an entire pack of wolves if needed. Then, of course, he had the Seven, and Eve. Rick decided that when he got home—and a new cell phone—he would call his father and remind him of that.

"I think I should give this to you now," James said. He handed Rick a flat doohickey with a golden emblem of a spiral sun on it.

"What is it?" Rick asked with a chuckle. "A tracker?"

James shook his head, smirking. "No. It is kind of like those emergency buttons old folks use when they fall down and can't get up—only this one directly contacts the Seven. Semour made it. It is one of his prototypes. You keep it as a key fob. This version is just a push button which you click three times in quick succession to activate in case of extreme emergency and you need the Seven ASAP. Click it once if you just need one of us to call you."

"Cool." Rick took it and dug his hand into a pocket for his keys. He hooked it on one of the rings. "What does two clicks do?"

"It shuts it off and cancels the call," James explained. "You know, in case you accidentally pushed it or something."

Rick nodded.

Coming closer, James said, "We don’t want you to have nightmares about us. We're your friends. Just know that the Seven will help you out, no matter what."

Somehow, Rick needed to hear that. He nodded again, heaving a breath of relief.

"And don’t be afraid of the Wolverton pack—or even your overcharged hormones," James added, grinning. "Things will work out in the end."

Rick laughed.

"We'll help you through this," James said.

Nodding, Rick smiled.

James then led him on through the booths to an actual place where James really did want him to smell something.

On their walk back, Tommy Whitefeather consulted with James over what had just happened between him and Rick. Rick picked up only a few details—James explaining to Tommy that there was something the Seven was asked to do by Rick's father. But he didn't tell Tommy about Wolverton. 

When they returned to the lecture hall, Carl greeted them with an expression of grim resignation and said, "The roundtable has been cancelled. Security just found the seats tampered with. They were coated in that garlic oil, and the water had been contaminated with, get this, a thin honey syrup. One of the other representatives on the roundtable had noticed the water was an off color and had reported it."

Rick and the others stared as he explained this.

"Thing was, he was a diabetic, so he charged the convention for not guaranteeing the safety of its contributors." Carl shook his head. "So the roundtable is cancelled. You can either stay and enjoy the rest of the convention, or we can leave early. Which would you prefer?"

"I'm tired," Rick said, nodding to himself. "And I don't care to stay for the dinner. It would just be another opportunity for the hunters to go after me."

Carl nodded, agreeing.

James nudged Rick in the shoulder. "You should tell him about the phone call."

Rick cringed. But the nodded with a heavy sigh. "Carl, Daisy called me."

Carl's eyes widened on him.

Glancing to the others with him, Rick then stepped closer, whispering into his ear. "She miscarried."

Carl pulled back, blinking at him. He then looked to James who handed him the cell phone.

Stepping back, Rick's face colored. He felt Tommy's stare the most, inquiring silently to know who Daisy was.

"Ok…" Carl then eyed Rick. "How did she get your number?"

Shrugging, Rick stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I sent her a card, you know, for emergencies."

Moaning, Carl nodded to himself, pocketing Rick's cell phone. "Alright."

"Just so you know," James added, "He willingly gave up his cell phone to me. I didn't take it from him."

With a nod, Carl smiled once at Rick. He then gestured for them all to head out of the convention center.

That is, for Rick and his two bodyguards to go. Tommy hooked onto James's elbow and said they were staying. They needed to talk, apparently. Rick was sure he was the topic of conversation.

As they headed out, Tommy and James following them as rearwards while they headed through the booths toward the main stairs, Rick felt relief that he was leaving. They passed the Greenpeace booth, a number of renewable energy booths and such until they got to the doors. That Xander from the NYU booth glared daggers at him when he passed them toward the door, though Prof. Jackson called out to him. "Mr. Deacon, was the roundtable cancelled?"

Rick looked back, nodding. "Yeah. Some creep vandalized the chairs and put something in the bottled water for the speakers."

"So you're going home?" Prof. Jackson asked.

"Back to the hotel," Rick said with a nod.

"Don't you have a penthouse in the city?" that girl Audry asked, her cynicism intact.

Meeting her critical gaze, Rick replied, "We most certainly do. But we went to a hotel to avoid attracting unwanted attention."

Her schoolmate nudged her in the side and hissed, "Haven't you heard the rumor that there are people who think the Deacon family are werewolves?"

Audry snorted. "I think vampires would be more fitting."

"Oh, no." Rick lifted up his hands as Carl urged them to move on, a smirk on his face. "I've met vampires. And they are nothing like me."

James laughed patting him on the shoulder and nodding. Tommy rolled his eyes.

Carl nudged Rick to go. But Rick looked back once as he passed through the doors, smirking at that cynical college girl he had met in Paris. She rolled her eyes back at him, amused.

"Were you flirting?" James hissed when they stepped into the main hallway toward the stairs.

Blinking back at him, Rick felt shivers go down his skin. He hadn't really thought about it. But he realized that he was. Audry was cute. A cynic, but cute.

"There is hope for you yet, wolf boy," James said, smiling.

More shivers ran through Rick. Maybe Daisy wasn't entirely in control of his future. Maybe he had a different choice after all.

Tommy gestured toward the lower stairs.

Down below they saw the three hunters—talking with a man in security and another man—one of the event coordinators. Carl narrowed his eyes on him, shaking his head.

"Of course," Rick muttered, nodding. "That's how they kept getting back in."

They descended to the lower floor, watching the hunters carefully. When they were nearly at the bottom the hunters lifted their eyes to the group, and the event coordinator's eyes widened with panic that he had been seen, though he tried to mask it as quickly as possible.

"How disappointing," Carl said, his eyes on the event coordinator only. "I will have to report this to my employer."

"Whatever are you talking about?" the event coordinator said.

Carl was about to answer, but Rick tugged on his arm for them to keep going. Carl glanced back then drew in a breath with a nod. "You're right. Another time."

Rick nodded silently.

But that Van-Wolverine hunter called out. "Don't think that this is over!"

Rick bristled, yet continued on toward the next set of stairs downward. James and Tommy shared a look then nodded together.

"We'll deal with this," James said. "You go on."

Tommy grinned, nodding.

"Oh really?" Matthew Hague leered, hands on hips.

James nodded. Then, as if pulling it from out of his pocket, James drew his green-tinted sword, getting into battle stance. "Oh, yeah. And I should introduce myself. My name is James Peterson—a member of the new Holy Seven."

The three hunters blenched.

The event coordinator scoffed at him. "You can't bring that in here! Weapons are strictly—"

"He has license to carry," Tommy said. "As do I."

The event coordinator paled, looking at him. Apparently they were already familiar with one another as the man backed away with a helpless look on his face.

Giving them one last look, Rick and his crew continued on.

No paparazzi were there to take departing pictures when they exited the building, though there was one lucky independent media journalist who happened to spot Rick and go after him with a few questions.

"Hey, rumor has it you fell in with a cult over the summer. Can I get a comment on that?"

Rick was about to brush him off.