He dialed and pulled at his lip waiting for an answer. When it came—a woman’s straightforward hello—Tyler transformed. His expression brightened, the tension left his shoulders. If he’d had his tail, it would have been wagging.
“Hey. Susan. I didn’t wake you up, did I? I don’t even know what time it is there. No … no, I’m okay. I just wanted to hear your voice.” The woman’s response sounded pleased, and she chatted happily at him. Tyler was in bliss.
That … that was awesome.
Chapter 23
WE CALLED Shumacher to let her know everything was all right and delivered Tyler safely to the hotel for a hot shower and sleep. Then Caleb dropped us off at Ned’s for showers and sleep of our own. When I really looked at the grizzled werewolf, he seemed the most tired of any of us. His face sagged, and his shoulders were rigid with the effort of keeping them straight.
“Get some sleep,” I told him before shutting the car door.
“You giving me orders now?” he grumbled, and I smiled and let him go.
Emma waited in the parlor for us, even had hot tea and food ready. She didn’t ask what had happened—Ned had probably called her already.
The tea felt amazing. Like a warm blanket on the inside. Emma watched us, wringing her hands.
“You know that Flemming’s dead?” I said. She was another of his victims, albeit indirectly.
“Alette will be glad to hear that,” she said, flattening her hands to smooth out her skirt. “It feels like the end of an era.”
“Maybe just the end of a chapter,” I said. “There always seem to be more jerks to take the place of people like that.” Not to mention Mercedes and Roman were still on the loose. This seemed a strangely muted victory.
* * *
I STILL had that speech. That I hadn’t written. My worry about it seemed so petty. How many people had died in the battles we’d fought over the last two days? How many more would die?
What had I really thought this conference would accomplish?
Ben waited with me at the front of the auditorium, clinging to the side wall, looking over the crowd that filled the seats. Full house. And everyone was staring at me, which made Wolf want to growl. I had tried to dress nicely without being too formal. I wanted my outfit to say “hip talk-radio host.” I don’t know if my jeans, gray jacket, and red silk T-shirt managed it. I mostly felt like I was trying too hard. I’d scratched some notes and held the sheets of paper in front of me, for all the good it would do.
“Have you decided what you’re going to say?” Ben asked. He stood at my shoulder, looking out like a bodyguard.
“Well, sort of. I know what I want to say. I just don’t know if I should.”
He took my hands, folding both of them inside his, and kissed my forehead. I leaned forward until I rested against his chest, my head nestled on his shoulder, my body pressed against his. He wrapped his arms around me.
“I’ve never known you to hesitate about saying anything, whether you should or not.”
I could have just stayed there, wrapped up in him, filling my nose with his scent, skin, and sweat, a touch of aftershave, the hint of fur under the skin. He was civilized and wild at once, an anchor in a rolling sea.
“You’ll be here when I’m finished? Right here?”
“Are you okay?” He pulled away and touched my face, brushing light
fingers along my jawline.
I nodded, but my lips were pursed.
“I won’t move an inch,” he said.
“Okay. Thanks.”
The rumble of a hundred murmured conversations carried over the auditorium. The crowd waited. I squeezed his hand, letting it go only after I’d turned away.
Nell Riddy, the conference director, waited at the edge of the stage with us. “If you’re ready, Ms. Norville, I’ll introduce you.”
“Yes, that’s fine. I’m ready.” I folded my pages to keep from crumpling them. I was increasingly coming to believe that preparation was impossible—only agility, so that one might hope to remain upright while scrambling.