“They take lots of pictures of him,” Maggie further shares.
Finn sits up, reaching back for his phone. “Huh. I need to check out how werewolves are faring in the local news.”
Finn and a couple of other packmates help out with our public relations needs. And as supernatural creatures trying to win over the world so that they don’t freak out and hunt us, it’s a big job. Luckily, Finn and the others ooze charm, and they can put a nice spin on nearly every werewolf-related story that hits the news.
The girls eventually signal that they’re done with their meals, and Ginny is looking both anxious and anticipatory.
Finn notices. He stands up from the table. “Ready? Let’s give visiting your mam a lash.”
When Ginny blinks at him, Finn pauses and glances around. He raises his brows at her—then at me.
Susan is the one who speaks. “Ginny, ‘give it a lash’ is Finn-speak for giving something a go.”
Finn pretends to be affronted. “Finn-speak? That’s plain Irish.”
He leads the charge out of the room, and Ginny, Charlotte, Susan, Maggie, and I follow him. Our long queue dashing off in a synchronized direction draws attention, and soon we have Liam and Harper trailing us. They follow us out the side door, feet bare as we cross the lawns to the London House. There’s about two hundred acres here, and the dens are spaced nicely apart. Into London we go, throwing out greetings here and there, weaving through rooms until we reach the door to the cellar.
Here, Finn stops. With an apprehensive look first at Ginny, then at the rest of us, he orders, “Harper-girl, why don’t you and Liam go play outside?”
Harper sighs and begins trudging back up the stairs.
Liam stays where he’s at. He grabs Maggie’s hand. “Hi,” he says.
“Liam,” Finn warns. “I want you to go outside and play.”
If Liam were a submissive, Finn would never stare directly at him for a straight length of time. Then again, if Liam were submissive, Finn would never have to.
Liam, although young, is an alpha, and because of this, he stares Finn dead in the eye—and because of this, Finn can’t look away. Young or not, it’s a challenge.
But Liam only takes a minute to break. He bursts into an uncomfortable howl and turns into a half-Aardwolf pup right there on the stairs.
If you’ve never seen an Aardwolf, they’re fluffy little tiny insect-eating cat-hyena-foxes. They look like God put a Chihuahua head on an African cat’s body and glued a wolf’s tail on their butt. The color of sand with black muzzles and a black spiking mane running from between their ears to the tip of their puffed tail, and with black stripes that slant along their back and legs, they’re striking.
Liam, being so young, also has a pair of wedge-shaped ears that look just huge on him—but not in a goofy way. In an adorable way. A fact not missed by anyone. Especially his new best friend.
“AWWWWW!” Maggie exclaims, and she gathers Liam’s furry self into her arms and begins pulling him free of his clothes.
Finn sighs, giving Liam an unimpressed look. “Maggie, love? Could you take that little clown upstairs? Take him out on the grass and make him fetch for you, would you?”
“YES,” Maggie agrees heartily, bundling puppy-Liam up greedily before she begins tottering up the stairs, carrying him.
“He can walk on his own,” Finn suggests.
“No, I want to carry him!” Maggie insists.
Finn widens his eyes and holds up his hands. “Suit yourself.” He sighs and motions for Ginny. “Get ready. Don’t let her give it out to you too hard, all right? Remember, you didn’t put her here. Her actions are why she’s confined.”
Susan places her hand on Ginny’s back. “Give it out means scolding you.” Her fingers squeeze Ginny’s shoulder. Then Susan looks around at the rest of us. “I’m going up to watch Maggie. And Liam.”
Probably for the best. I’ve heard from Finn that Ginny’s mom, Brooke, blamed Susan in several of her rants for trying to steal Ginny away from her. Depending on Brooke’s mental state at the moment, it’s probably a good thing she won’t see Susan with her daughter. Neither Ginny nor Susan need that kind of attack.
She leaves, and Finn cracks open the door, murmuring to Ginny, “Remember what I said.”
Ginny, already looking as if she’d braced herself, braces herself more. “Yeah. Got it.”
The cell is usually reserved for wolves who can change forms and, for whatever reason, require a