Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

57. Hangover after Victory

Liam shoved Volya out of the way to catch falling Anabelle, unbalancing his already shaky legs. He slumped to the ground with an oomph. There he sat and gaped, unable to move a muscle. Only his mouth quivered. "Ouch, Liam."

Instead of Liam, Sangha sidled next to him, ready to confirm his vitals, bless her soul. If not for that, the exaltation had left him so utterly, this could have been just another daydream. Except Liam wasn't turned on by his spell casting.

Sangha pointed light into his eyes, but her own glance darted toward Anabelle. She probably figured that she would have to fight Lydia and Liam Mortal-Kombat-style to get her hands on the girl, so she settled for her second best test subject.

Volya answered Sangha's questions robotically and suffered the physical, but he cared little about her conclusions.

"I'll be fine," he croaked, even though his vision fractured into a mosaic of the over-saturated images.

In the middle, the largest tableau had Liam, Lydia and daSilva pulling Anabelle in three different directions for hugs. They massaged her legs, asked her incomprehensible questions and didn't wait for her answers. There was no need--Volya had already given them the most important one. She was a human again.

Tears streaked Lydia's face, washing down mascara in greyish trails down her cheeks. No less moisture leaked from Anabelle's eyes, but without the makeup it looked nowhere near as dramatic.

Liam's eyes glistened with unspilled tears, but daSilva cried without hiding it. He also mumbled, "Marvelous, marvelous result," non-stop.

To the right of the central group, Damir emerged from the darkness. He rode Anabelle's horse. Its sides heaved, steaming in the cool night air. Now there was a knight!

Marina made a beeline for the hero, hands on her hips.

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Her voice broke in a hysterical gulp. "What devil made you chase after a galloping horse? Do you think you're some Elusive Avenger or something?"

Damir sniggered at the mention of the heroic teen riders from the old movies, slipped from the mare's back and led it to a prepared enclosure. Anabelle would have a whole stable built, if they had time and manpower. The gal loved ‌horse even before they were one, now it was bound to live a life of extreme equine luxury.

"The horse was traumatized."

"Of course, you'd say that. You always have an answer to make me look heartless. You are... you are...!" Marina didn't elaborate on Damir's purported trait, but stayed on his heels. "You're limping. Did you fall?"

"Yes. I'm out of practice riding bareback."

"If you've broken your thick neck, it would have taught you." Marina's shoulders dropped in exasperation.

Damir muttered something under his nose that even Volya couldn't hear.

For a while the couple wiped down the horse with patches of hay, shooting glares over its haunches at one another. But neither antagonist stalked away in an angry huff. Finally, their movements slowed down, and eyes stopped glowering. Well, duh. Collaboration had the power to resolve personal conflict after all.

"Mar', I know it was stupid, okay?" Damir admitted quietly, digging his Marlboro from the pocket of his jeans. "I just couldn't help it... and I'm still shook, okay?"

His hands, indeed, were unsteady as he tapped the pack against the palm to extract a cigarette.

Marina followed him to the bonfire, watching from under a furrowed brow as he picked a smoldering log to lit up his prize. His hands stopped trembling as soon as he took in a drag, then let the smoke trail between his parted lips. His eyes rolled upwards in satisfaction.