Grabbing the tray of coffee and a bag of palmier pastries I’d bought from La Madeleine bakery on the way home, I got out of the car. I was able to collect my gym bag out of the backseat before they set upon me like vultures.
“Princess Eugenia, do you have any statements to make about the recent threats from the Church of Morning?”
Huh?
I hiked the bag up on my shoulder, flaunting it as my reason for being out so early in the morning. Technically I had been working out. No one needed to know it had been in wolf form.
“Princess, what would you like to say on behalf of your people?”
“Terry, you’re stepping on my marigolds again.” I pointed to the small flowerbed alongside my driveway, which the beat reporter for the New Orleans Sun was stomping all over.
There’d been a time when these guys had really bothered me.
Things had changed a lot since my sister, Secret, and I had helped stop a group of necromancers while under the watchful eye of the world. Humans knew we were real now, and being a werewolf princess meant I didn’t get to escape the glare of the media’s attention. My involvement in saving New York from the brink of complete annihilation had made me something of an overnight celebrity.
So much for any attempt at a nice, normal life.
I’d been a popular target for reporters right after the truth came out. But that had been almost three years ago. Since journalists tended to have the attention span of a fruit fly, they’d stopped coming around nearly as much.
So what brought them out today?
And what was this church nonsense they were talking about?
I wasn’t sure what they called a group of reporters, but I liked to think of them as an annoyance. The annoyance of reporters followed me towards my front door, nattering their questions with no regard for my answers.
My boyfriend, Cash, opened the door for me, and I hurried inside while they continued to shout over one another. Once I was in, he closed the door and relieved me of the pastries and hot coffees in my hands. I let my gym bag drop to the floor, and he regarded it, frowning slightly before he stepped into the kitchen.
“You know, I would have come with you if you asked. You didn’t need to sneak out while I was sleeping,” he called from the other room.
My phone beeped in my pocket, but I ignored it.
Cash returned with my takeout coffee in a mug. Before he handed it to me he stooped down and gave me a kiss, long, lingering, his breath sweet and minty.
“Good morning to you too,” I said, my voice airy. He’d seemed a bit annoyed about me being out, so the kiss was a nice surprise.
“I don’t like you being out there by yourself, Genie. I worry about what could happen to you.”
I took the coffee from him and pushed my bag under the hall table with my toe, as if the argument would stop as long as he couldn’t see the evidence.
“I’m fine. I promise you, I can care of myself when I’m out there.” I touched his cheek, his brown skin warm under my palm and his goatee tickling me. I wasn’t in love with the facial hair, but if anyone could pull it off, it was Cash.
He smiled, a real, genuine smile that showed his brilliant white teeth, and I relaxed a little.
Things had gotten tense this year. Cash, now in his third year of law school, had become obsessed with his Supernatural Law professor, and his intense interest in Supe Law meant he suddenly thought he was an expert. I had to scold him whenever he tried to “educate” me on how things worked with the werewolves.
My uncle was King of the South. I knew more about werewolf ceremony and custom than any of the so-called experts they had brought in to teach classes combined.
Looking over my course catalogue during the summer, I’d been stunned by how many new classes were being added to appeal to student interest in the paranormal. Supernatural Biology; Anthropology of Humanoid Supernaturals—because apparently we didn’t qualify as people anymore; Dracula in Context; and my personal favorite: Lupine Sociology—How Werewolf Society Works.
As if they could possibly know. Unless a were was teaching the class, they’d be basing it on a lot of conjecture and a few hastily written books on the topic. Shapeshifters, wolf or otherwise, weren’t too keen on sharing the inner workings of our society with others.
But Cash kept insisting he knew more about the paranormal than I did, simply because he was studying the laws. Over the past couple months it had developed into a sore subject between us.
Which was why I wasn’t too keen on the idea of him tagging along for my runs. He wouldn’t be in any danger from me, but I worried he wouldn’t be able to look at me the same if he saw me in my wolf form.
I think he sometimes liked the idea of dating a werewolf more than he liked the reality.
“How long have the vultures been out front?” I sipped my coffee and looked out the front window. “Goddamn Terry Masterson is standing in my lilac bushes now.” I tapped on the glass, wagging my finger at the middle aged man.