Unconventionally Wolf, Julie Steimle [red scrolls of magic .TXT] 📗

the hunt on the first night with the pack that he had lost control and had given into his wolfish desire for her. And he was sure he would have joined the hunt either way. But, if he had gone back to the factory in the day, he figured, he could have avoided it going as far as it had. It could have been a one night regret rather than an all-consuming addiction.

But as he went over that scenario in his mind, Rick could picture himself being lured back to Daisy each night for more. If the hunter hadn’t come, Rick would have eventually arranged to have stayed with the pack the entire month. He might have stayed at the Blithe’s house, but it was more likely he would have spent it at Daisy’s home in her bed with her. If that had happened, the pack would have definitely convinced him to leave his life as the heir to Deacon Enterprises and joined them. Or, quite possibly, they would have convinced him to keep the relationship secret, and according to their plan, they would have raised his children while he indulged himself with Daisy. Shuddering, Rick was surprised to think that maybe that hunter coming was a godsend.

Carl had started to clear the documents off the bed.

“Wait! I’m not done!” Rick reached for the file he had been reading.

But Carl shook his head, smirking as he put that file with others. “As much as I admire your stick-to-itiveness and earnest desire to be prepared, you need to get sufficient sleep so that you can be fully awake and bright at the convention.”

Pulling back, Rick nodded. He pulled his socks off and went for his pajamas. He was soon in the bathroom, brushing his teeth with a tired stare at his reflection.

As his father’s personal assistant cleaned up, the man said, “I’ll be sending in room service to bring you breakfast. When you wake, please shower and put on that lotion with the yellow label. You should cover your skin with it.”

Rick halted in his preparations for bed, staring dryly at him. “I think I know how to clean myself.”

Carl chuckled. He lifted his eyes to Rick’s face. “I know that, sir. But the lotion is a special kind of repellant which your father uses as a protectant against airborne sprays or oils.”

“And I need that why?” Rick leaned out from the bathroom, toothbrush in his cheek.

“Because,” Carl replied with a sigh, “They are the tools of the trade for convention hunters.”

Rick stared.

Nodding, Carl added, “I will be carrying an emergency pack with me with inhalers and epinephrine, as well as emergency soap. I would recommend you wear the sunglasses we have prepared for you, and make sure you keep earplugs in your pocket if ever you need to block out high pitched sounds.”

Staring more, Rick said, “You mean to tell me hunters will blatantly attack me at the convention?”

Shaking his head, Carl replied, “Not blatantly. Surreptitiously. And in most cases, they are also good at not getting caught.”

Rick leaned back then started to brush his teeth again. He paused and said, “Now I’m sorry I didn’t contact Tom Brown to help out. He’s perfect against such attacks.”

Carl grinned. “Maybe next time.”

 

Rick had some rather intense dreams that night.

He dreamed he showed up at the convention naked. And that tailor said he was a work of art and did not need a suit. Hunters then chased him around the booths. When he got cornered, the hunter pulled off his hat and revealed that he was a friend from home—James Peterson—who always gave Rick the impression that he was not quite happy that Rick couldn’t be cured of werewolfism. However, the James in the dream was not like James in reality… as the James in reality was always with his buddy Daniel, and James was usually a nice guy. But in the dream he was like all the other brutish hunters, slashing at him with a bowie knife which happened to be made out of silver. While fleeing nightmare-James, Rick had crashed into his best friend, Andrew.

But Andrew in the dream stared at him as if he had been betrayed, growling like a wolf as he said, “You got a girl pregnant and then left! You total blackguard! You scum!”

“Dad made me!” Rick in the dream protested, fleeing from his best friend who was now chasing him down with a sword that was red with blood. “I wanted to stay!”

However, nothing he said dissuaded nightmare-Andrew. Rick had to go all wolf and run from him. And he ran and ran and ran until conference center became outdoors, and he ran over countryside and snow and across train tracks and through dark murky places… taking him straight back to Wolverton in Alabama.

And there, standing in the field was Daisy in all her natural glory, just waiting for him.

He ran into her open arms.

From there it went even more intense… so intense that he woke up in the middle of the night panting while his heart thundered hotly in his ears.

He could run away this very moment. He could go back to her. She wanted him.

But Rick rolled over and reached for his wallet on the nightstand. Opening it, his took out the paper and read over the comparison lists again. Logic. He had to use logic. His entire life hinged on the decisions he made right now. Should he give in to his fears and run back to his addiction where he felt cocooned in animal safety?

Shaking his head, he put the list back into his wallet. The cocoon was holding back real growth. Nothing soared inside a cocoon. They were made to be broken out of.

Shutting off the light, he rolled over again and tried to go back to sleep. As he nodded off, one thing stuck in his head—how could he possibly tell his friends about what he had done? He knew Andrew wouldn’t actually chase after him with a sword. Neither would James or Daniel, nor the others. But he wasn’t sure if they would trust him as much after that. He would be seen more as a beast than a man—a true pariah who lacked self-control.

And would they even like Daisy?

The next dream he had was more of the same, though this time he did not wake. This time Jessica Mason showed up and tried to kill Daisy. In that dream Daisy became a wolf and attacked back. Rick was stuck in the middle of it.

There were other stranger ones, but they all rolled into one until the sun shone through the curtains and caused Rick to blink and sit up in his bed. Carl was silently going about work in the room, setting up breakfast.

Rick stared at his shredded blankets and sheets which were also covered with hair. He moaned. He looked to Carl. “I’m so sorry…. I…”

“You’re awake,” Carl said, not at all paying attention to the mauled state of the comforter or the amount of hair and other substances in it. “Get up and wash.”

Climbing out of the bed, shaking off the hair as apparently he had changed from human to wolf and back again while dreaming. And as usual when that happened, he had shed all over everything.

“I really am sorry,” Rick said again, looking back at the mess. He had only done this a few times before, but in his own bed on some nights of the full moon, and always during nightmares. “Is the hotel going to—?”

“Those are our sheets and blankets,” Carl said, though his brow was wrinkled and his eyes were etched with concern. “We came prepared.”

Sighing with relief, Rick shook his head. His face was red though. It was embarrassing losing control while sleeping.

“Go shower,” Carl said again.

Rick nodded and hurried to the bathroom.

His mind was all muddled and murky as he washed. He hardly had any real rest at all—defeating Carl’s purpose in getting him to sleep when he did. He was not feeling awake, nor refreshed. But with a groan, he washed off all the hair and at least came out of the shower clean.

And he put on the lotion.

It smelled slightly minty with a touch of lavender. He didn’t hate the smell, nor did he like it. But on his skin it felt funny.

“Hey, Carl! What is this anyway? This lotion.” Rick held up the bottle.

Carl looked over once then quickly looked away. His face went red. Since Rick's visit to the Alabama pack, he sometimes forgot his human modesty and wasn’t aware he was not wrapped in a bath towel.

“Uh, sir.” Carl set down the sheets he had been rolling up and walked over to the bathroom, not looking at him. “Doors have a purpose.” And he shut the door.

Moaning, Rick called though the door. “Fine! Just tell me about this lotion. It feels weird.”

“That’s an organic coconut oil based lotion with special herbs and other oils,” Carl answered through the door.

“Oh.” Rick peered at it. “So… how is it supposed to help?”

“It creates a buffer, and keeps in moisture,” Carl replied. “As well as keeps out moisture. Your father also just likes the brand.”

Rolling his eyes, Rick nodded. It wasn’t actually magical. It was just a lotion.

After he got dressed, mostly in boxers and a tee shirt, Carl had him eat breakfast while reading up on the main points Rick needed to cover at the panels. Rick was having a difficult time focusing, as his dreams about Daisy overwhelmed most of his thoughts. Fact was, he wanted to know why anyone would listen to a guy like him. Someone his age. Someone with his lack of experience. Someone with his lack of self-control and focus. Honestly, he was stressing out. His confidence was shot due to the situation with Daisy, and that was that.

“You can do this,” Carl finally said. “I’ll be with you each step of the way.

Rick nodded, staring into space. He had no choice anyway. His father wasn’t going to just show up and take over for him. Carl had also brought news that his father had gone to South Korea where he was meeting with a business there to set up a trade deal.

Once breakfast was cleared and Rick had brushed his teeth, his suit was brought out and he dressed into it. They even supplied him with pair of plain-toe-derbies. Rick wasn’t fond of men’s dress shoes, but he had to look the part from head to toe. Carl even brought in a hairdresser to make sure his hair was properly styled for the event.

“Really, Carl, this is overkill,” he said as the woman trimmed and combed his hair to model perfection.

But Carl was smiling.

And why not? Howard Richard Deacon the Third was a good looking young man. And in a suit, he was exquisite. And that helped their cause considerably.

They went out to the car.

Some people took pictures, spotting the celebrity.

But thankfully the paparazzi were not there to swarm him.

No. The paparazzi were at the convention, waiting for his father to show up. But when Rick Deacon stepped out of the famous Rolls Royce Phantom, the paparazzi were shocked… and delighted.

Harangued almost immediately by people who want statements as well as to capture a winning photo of the famous young heir to billions, Rick marched through the gauntlet of flashes, microphones, and cellphones, with Carl and two large guards keeping them back. He followed his instructions perfectly.

“Mr. Deacon, rumor has it you joined a cult during the summer. Can you make a statement?”

“What is your stance on the killing of cattle out in the Colorado ranch communities? They are near your family’s wolf reserves.”

“Mr. Deacon! What is your stand on the pipeline that your company is allowing to go through your wildlife reserve?”

“There’s a rumor going out that you were involved in an orgy in Paris last year. Care to comment?”

“How much in taxes do you pay? We want to see you tax returns.”

“Can you tell us what happened