Sacrificed Soul

Chapter Twelve

"So, what's it like traveling the world?" Lenora asks while we wait in line.

The mated pair in front of us angle their heads to listen. I ignore it. Maybe if they can handle listening to me talk, they can think about joining in a future conversation with me. I tip my head down, watching the floor, "If you can count crossing the ocean a few times 'traveling the world' then I suggest you look at a map or two."

"Har-har, very funny golden child."

That makes me twinge. Honey-girl was their golden child.

"Is it really that hot out there?" David asks.

Ugh. I hate small talk. But if there was no small talk, would there be any at all? So, I shrug, "Yeah. It can be pretty miserable."

David purses his lips, his eyes squinting. I can see the playful yet devious intent bouncing around in his head, "What about the love life? You ever hear back from that one shifter? The coyote?"

One of the wolves behind us makes a wretching sound. I smile, "Nah, he couldn't compare to the horse shifter the week before. That's why I was checking my phone earlier. I hope I'm still in his rotation," I joke. Sexual humor comes easy to me, all pun intended.

"Horse shifter?" Lenora's eyes go wide and David laughs.

"Pass me his number, will ya?" He says, his arm slinging around my shoulder.

I lean into him, "Sorry kid, I don't think he swings that way. He likes shorties, though. Sweet-girl, I think he'd be mighty interested in you."

"Oh please. If they don't have a knot the size of Texas, I ain't interested," she drawls, looking over her shoulder and winking.

Whoever was behind us cleared their throat. I turned a bit, still not looking up, to take in what I could. Brown, worn work boots still crusted with the dirt of an oily place by the black stains on the knees of his pants. Hefty gentleman, too, since his belly dangles over the waist of his pants, suspenders straining around his gut. The hair on his arms are gray so he's much older than we are. I sniff. Oilfields, maybe?

"Smell me again, you mangy cur, and I'll show you how a real wolf fights," he booms.

Oooh, you fuckin' bastard. He's dominant enough that his demand sent the already skittish couple ahead of us running from the line. I hope they get some food eventually. It smells very good.

David hissed at the man and Lenora's wolf was just about ready to take over when I snatched their elbows and dragged them forward. The line is moving and I am hellbent on getting some damn food.

"Leanne, don't let people talk to you like that," Lenora spit, slipping out of my hand to return to her new enemy number one.

"Do you know who I am?" The man asks.

Finally, I turn. I let him get a good look at my eyes, watch his human demeanor deflate while his wolf checks me out.

"No, so who the hell are you?" David asks, saving me.

"Who— I'm Dick Wallens!"

What the— there's no 'do you know who I am' when nobody knows who the fuck you are. I stare at him, watch his wolf sit there in his stupid fucking eyes just waiting for me to snap. I watch the flabbergastation of a man whose used to being outwolfed. This is a second soul that likes to fight, and one that rides his human hard into doing so, "And why should we know you, Dick Wallens?"

"I run the motor-shop in Lake Isabella," he says, trying to recuperate his image by blustering, crossing his arms over his chest and standing tall. His hips wiggle a bit, and I know a shifter that's about to explode when I see one. Fuck. Fuckin' low life, piece of shit, cock gurgling—