Chapter 108

Chris

For a moment, it felt as if my blood had run cold and all of the air had been sucked out of the room. I blinked almost dazedly at the reporter from across the audience, trying to wrap my head around how the hell he knew about the moonstone.

No one should have known. We had taken the utmost precautions to keep the missing moonstone a secret. Not even the members of our pack knew—just me, Ava, Leonard, and the Elders.

That was it.

And yet, it seemed as though I was mistaken. Somehow, someone here in the human world had found out. And now the audience was practically bristling as all eyes turned to me, watching and waiting for a response.

“I…”

My throat worked uselessly, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as words failed me. I never had issues with public speaking—if anything, I quite enjoyed it—but this was unexpected.

But then I saw her: Ava. She was sitting in the front row, those beautiful eyes of hers trained on me. When she saw me looking at her, her full lips quirked up into the faintest hint of a smile. She gestured subtly toward her chest, indicating for me to…

Breathe.

I drew in a soft breath through my nostrils, and it felt like all of the air in the room had returned. Finding the reporter in the crowd again, I leaned toward my microphone.

“Thank you for that excellent question, Reporter…?”

“Adams,” the reporter replied.

I nodded. “Reporter Adams. That’s a great question.” I paused, scanning the room for a moment before continuing. “But… While I appreciate your curiosity, I’m afraid that my life here in the human world and my pack life are two separate entities; my pack’s business is solely my own and my pack’s, and therefore, I’m not sure if I would feel comfortable divulging private information.”

“So you admit it, then?” Reporter Adams asked abruptly. “Your moonstone is missing?”

“I have admitted no such thing. Again, thank you for your curiosity, but perhaps a NASCAR panel is not the place to be asking such hair-raising questions about rumors that have nothing to do with the next racing season.”

There was a brief pause, and I watched as the reporter furiously scribbled in his notepad. My eyes momentarily flickered over to Ava, who was nodding at me ever so slightly. Good; so she approved.

“I will say, though,” I continued, “that my fans here in the human world—and my pack back in Moonstone—have nothing to fear. Thanks to a wonderful support network on both continents, I am confident that I will be able to handle the split lifestyle in stride.”

With that, I leaned back in my chair. The reporter, only halfway satisfied, seemed to give up and handed the microphone back. But his question still nagged at me.

Dammit, I thought to myself as the panel concluded. Who the hell snitched about the moonstone?

…

The room was bustling again by the time I stepped down from the panel, grateful for a chance to move. It seemed as though everyone else had that same feeling—the panel had gone on for far too long, all thanks to some new advertising partnerships that had the reporters scrambling for information. I hoped that Ava wasn’t too tired for a nightcap, although I wouldn’t blame her if she was.

Before I could make it to her, however, I was abruptly stopped by the sound of a begrudgingly familiar voice.

“Chris!”

Turning, I felt my stomach sink ever so slightly when I saw that ten-gallon hat and that garish belt buckle. Goddess, he even had a shirt with the Coca-Cola logo on it. Could he even possibly get any more cheesy?

“George,” I said, turning with that polite smile plastered across my face. “I haven’t seen you since the last race.”

“Too long, my boy, too long,” he said in an all-too-familiar tone, clapping me across the back so hard with his meaty hand that I nearly sputtered. “Where is your lady?”

I narrowed my eyes infinitesimally. Last time either of us saw George, he had said some choice things to Ava that had left both of us bristling.

“Ava is… likely mingling,” I replied coolly.

George guffawed in such a way that I nearly felt my hackles raise. “I hear that Ophelia has taken her on as a new little pet. You know how Ophelia is—she loves her little dogs.”

“Ava isn’t a dog.”

“Yes, well… werewolves and dogs share similar ancestors, no?”

I was just about to open my mouth to bite out a blistering retort when George continued, either completely oblivious to my ire or too abrasive to care. “But, I must say… I got a glimpse of your woman earlier, and…” He let out a low whistle, adjusting his hat on his head. “She cleans up well; I’ll say that much.”

I’d had enough. I imagined smacking that ridiculous hat right off of his head and kicking him right in the belt buckle, but I knew that I had to restrain myself—at least in public. So, I settled for the next best thing.

“George,” I growled, taking a step forward, “you’d better watch your tongue. Ava is so much more than you’ll ever be. And if I hear you say one more disgusting word about her, you’ll be showcasing how fast those boots of yours can run.”

George stared at me, stunned. His mouth hung open, that double chin of his waggling as he tried and failed to come up with something to say.

Satisfied, I turned to see Ava coming our way. The moment I saw her, I felt myself soften—she was absolutely stunning all of the time, but even more so tonight.

The black dress that my assistants had picked out perfectly flattered her curvaceous figure, the tall white gloves enhancing her slender arms. She had her faux fur shawl casually in one hand and held her skirt up ever so slightly in the other as she crossed the room toward me in long, graceful strides.

Ophelia strode alongside her, and the two of them appeared even more friendly now, which warmed my heart a bit. Ava wasn’t Ophelia’s—or anyone’s—dog. And the fact that George even implied that made me sick.

“You did great up there,” Ava said softly as she stopped in front of me. “You handled that last question—”

“Miss Ava,” George suddenly said, taking off his giant hat—I swore it had grown in size since the last moment I had looked at him. “Miss Ophelia.”

Ophelia turned up her nose at George, not even deigning to give him the time of day. George had had the hots for her for years, and she wasn’t having any of it. Ava, on the other hand, was far too polite for her own good; within time, though, she would learn that it wasn’t necessary to be that polite in these circles. Some of these men deserved to be put in their place.

“It’s George, isn’t it?” Ava asked, nodding her head politely. “Nice to see you.”

George chuckled. “I’m surprised you remembered. I—”

Before I could finish, I stepped in the way, looping my arm around Ava’s shoulders. “Ava, Ophelia… Should we get a drink? We can stay here, or—”

“I would love a drink,” George butted in, wrapping his own monstrous arm around Ophelia, whose face visibly reddened. He nodded his head toward the bar. “First round’s on me.”