How to Tame a Cat (ManxMan)

Chapter Twelve: Fight or Flight

~Chapter Twelve: Fight or Flight~

"Hey, you've reached Dylan Moore. I'm unavailable. Please leave a message after-"

I immediately hang up and dial the next number in my emergency contacts. It only rings once before someone picks up. "Hello?" The soft feminine voice asks from the other end.

"Erika, tell Dylan I need help."

"Are you...drunk?" Erika asks, her voice still gentle. However, I do not need gentle; I need an Alpha. "If you need someone to pick you up, I can call one of the wolves."

I take a deep breath to steady my voice as another wave of dizziness claims me, "Not drunk. Need help."

It must have registered in her head that something is genuinely wrong because she is suddenly all business. "Cade, Dylan is out hunting. He won't be back for a few hours. But I have the keys. Where are you?"

"You can't," I slur. The effects are already wearing off and sleep is the next thing on my mind. "Dylan would be mad...if you were in danger."

"You're in danger?" She practically shouts into the phone, making me wince as I hold it an inch away. "Tell me where you are, Cade."

"Cabin," I mutter before groaning and clutching my stomach. My body feels so hot, but on the inside, I feel so empty. I curl up into a tight ball on my couch, hugging myself in hopes the feeling will go away soon. I just want it to stop...

- - - - - - -

"That bastard!"

Ryland laughs heartily at my exclamation. "That is what I said," he replies, still chuckling. "And then Mama hit my over the head with her ladle for cursing in the kitchen."

I snort with laughter, unable to help myself from making the pathetic sound. My snort only makes Ryland laugh harder and even the waitress behind the counter and other patrons – all of whom have no idea what we are talking about – are smiling. "What did you do then?" I ask once my fit of laughter finally settles down.

"I did what any smart man would do when his mama is watching. I hugged him," Ryland replies, his voice hitching a little as he tries not to laugh again, taking a sip of his coffee. It is a valiant attempt, but my laughter starts up again and his is not far behind.

Seeing as he failed to swallow properly, his drink ends up spilling out his mouth as he can no longer hold onto his calm façade. I have already laughed my lungs sore, but this is the first time I am unable to breathe because I am laughing so hard. At least it is a silent laugh from the lack of oxygen, though, or I might be as embarrassed as Ryland with his wet shirt.

The topic soon dies and, once the bill is out of the way, he leads me out to his truck. I might be opposed to the way his arm snuck its way around my shoulders, but it is a relatively cool night for such a warm day and the extra warmth is not all that unwelcome. That does not mean I did not hunch my shoulders a little and wear an unhappy expression, though. I made my discomfort very clear.

"Admit it, you enjoyed our date," Ryland says as we reach his truck in the mostly empty diner parking lot. The truck stop is across the street, which is where most of the patrons are parked.

Looking for a way to get out of answering, I open the passenger side door and climb in, shutting it before he can try to prod me into saying something. All the while, Ryland is laughing at my obvious avoidances of the answer. The first half of our 'date' was awkward and stressful, but sometime around the end of the meal and his first cup of coffee we found a topic we could both agree on. Annoying siblings.