Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

7. Lingering Scent

Volya had a hard time pretending to be grumpy as he crowded after Liam into the lobby of their hotel, leaving puddles on the immaculate floor.

With rainwater no longer smudging his sight, Volya told himself that he just had to look anywhere but at Liam's face to keep giggles at bay. He chose to study how the wet T-shirt hugged Liam's chest after he'd discarded his dripping hoodie. This worked great, because the smile melted right off his face, replaced by a dry-mouthed stupor. So long as his jaw didn't slack, he was golden.

Liam caught the direction of his gaze and glanced at his chest. "Oh my, that's soggy. Let's go and—"

Volya didn't find what Liam wanted to do, though logically, it would be to change. A flash blinked, this time not the bolt of lightning from the sky, but from a camera.

Liam took half-a-step away from Volya, creating a courtesy distance between them. It didn't help: another camera flashed.

Then another...

A girl with a fawning smile tore herself from the high-backed armchair by the fireplace, holding up her phone. Volya was new to the celebrity game, but he had already learned that the fans weren't solitary creatures. Like locust, they swarmed.

Partially impaired by the acute case of Liam-is-so-close to start with, Volya froze solid, like a deer in headlights. Except instead of an urge to flee, a growl was building in his chest.

Hunting Liam, would they? He'd rip those phones out of their hands along with their fingers—even though in a warped way, their pursuit meant safety for him. Like, Liam's academic buddies couldn't dissect him if the fans tracked their every move. Though some of them might help, if Liam asked them nicely? The world was seriously screwed up.

"Stop scowling," Liam whispered, his warm breath touching Volya's earlobe. "Everything is under control."

Volya didn't know if he should nod that yes, he understood English or shake his head, because no, to him the situation looked the opposite of controlled. He had just opened his mouth to point it out, when a security guard appeared out of thin air to block the phone-wielding girl's advance.

She still snapped a few pictures of Volya either stupefied, or scowling, or cross-eyed and gaping like a fish. Candid!

Another guard materialized to usher Liam to the elevator. Volya tagged along. Two more security ninjas covered their retreat by firmly inserting themselves at the bottleneck point of the elevator bank to stop the opportunistic selfie-takers in their tracks.

Adrenaline drained from Volya's veins in the duration of one long shiver after the elevator doors had finally closed, cutting off the view of the lobby. He no longer wanted to growl, but to howl: the guard who herded them into the elevator and took up one corner had his suit dappled with moisture. The man, too, was out in the rain. Crap.

Volya motioned for Liam's phone, and Liam extricated it from his back pocket. Trying to ignore the lingering warmth on the plastic cover, Volya typed, "Were your security with us all along?"

Liam nodded absently. "They're just doing their job."

"Of course," Volya muttered in English. "Of course."

If Volya had put two and two earlier, he wouldn't have laughed like a hyena, let alone snapped silly pictures of Liam with flowers. So much for the all-knowing voice in his head. So much for trust. Volya's experiences to date taught him right: one didn't just trust a stranger on a drop of a pin. It sucked a big time to get this I-told-you-so from his past.

"Come in for a bite to eat," Liam said, once they stepped out of the elevator on the fifth floor. The guard motioned for them to stop and walked the length of the hall just in case, but Volya was certain he could still overhear the obnoxiously crisp voice of the app.