Dead Reckoning (Sookie Stackhouse #11)(50)
Author: Charlaine Harris

Oh, God, where had that come from?

Alcide was laughing now. He couldn’t seem to help it. I relaxed, because as snarly as Were brains are, I could see that he was also laughing at himself.

"It didn’t seem like a good idea to me, either," he said frankly. "But Jannalynn thought this would be like a shortcut, and we could draw you into the pack."

Huh. That explained a lot. "You did this on Jannalynn’s advice? Jannalynn just wanted me to feel uncomfortable," I said.

"Seriously? What does she have against you? I mean, why would she want to do that? Especially when she must have realized that would mean making me uncomfortable, too."

Him being her boss and all, and pretty much the center of Jannalynn’s universe. I understood what he meant, and I agreed with his assessment of Jannalynn. However, in my opinion Alcide wasn’t uncomfortable enough. I was convinced that he hoped if he sat in my bed and looked rumpled and handsome, I might reconsider. But looking good wasn’t all it took with me. I wondered when Alcide had turned into the kind of guy who thought it might.

"She’s been dating Sam for a while," I said. "You know that, right? I went to a family wedding with Sam, and I think Jannalynn had expected to go."

"So Sam’s not as crazy about Jannalynn as she is about him?"

I held out my hand and wobbled it to and fro. "He likes her a lot. But he’s older and more cautious." Why were we sitting in my bedroom talking about this? "So, Alcide, do you think you could get dressed and go home now?" I glanced at my watch. Eric had left me a note to say that Mustapha Khan was supposed to be here at ten, just an hour from now. Since he was a lone wolf, he wouldn’t want a meet’n’ greet with Alcide.

"I’d still be glad if you joined me," he said, and he sounded both sincere and self-mocking.

"It’s always nice to be wanted. And you’re plenty hunky, of course." I tried not to sound like I’d thrown that in as an afterthought. "But I’m going with Eric, bond or no bond. Plus, you went about trying to court me the completely wrong way, thanks to Jannalynn. Who told you we weren’t bonded, anyway?"

Alcide slid out of bed and held out a hand for his clothes. I got up and handed them to him, keeping my eyes raised to his. He did have on underwear, kind of a monokini. Manakini? As he shrugged into his shirt, he said, "Your buddy Amelia. She and her boyfriend came into Hair of the Dog last night to have a drink. I was pretty sure I’d met her, so I started talking to them. When she heard my name, she already knew that you and I’d been friendly. She got pretty chatty."

Oversharing was one of Amelia’s flaws. I began to have a darker suspicion. "Did Amelia know you were going to do this?" I asked, waving my hand toward the rumpled bed.

"I followed her and her boyfriend back here," Alcide said, which was not exactly a denial. "They consulted with your cousin–the stripper. Claude? He thought me waiting for you in here was a really great idea. In fact, I think he would’ve joined us for about fifty cents." Alcide paused in zipping up his jeans to raise an eyebrow.

I tried not to let my distaste show. "That Claude! What a kidder!" I said with a ferocious smile. I had never felt less amused. "Alcide, I think Jannalynn was having a big joke at my expense. I think Amelia needs to keep my business quiet, and I think Claude just wanted to see what would happen. He’s like that. Besides, you got good-looking Were women hanging all over you, you big ole packmaster, you!" I punched him on a brawny shoulder playfully–more or less–and I saw him flinch just a little. Maybe I was stronger with my fairy kin around me.

Alcide said, "I’ll drive back to Shreveport, then. But put me on your dance card, Sookie. I want a chance with you, still." He gave me a big white smile.

"Haven’t found a shaman for your pack yet?"

He was buckling his belt and his fingers froze. "Do you think that’s why I want you?"

"I think that might have something to do with it," I said, my voice dry. Having a pack shaman had gone out of style in modern times, but the Long Tooth pack was trying to find one. Alcide had induced me to take one of the drugs that shamans took to enhance their vision, and it had been both deeply creepy and weirdly empowering. I never wanted to do that again. I had liked it too much.

"We do need a shaman," Alcide admitted. "And you did a great job that night. Obviously you’ve got the aptitude for the job." Gullibility and poor judgment must be prerequisites. "But you’re wrong if you think that’s the only reason I’d like us to have a relationship."

"I’m glad to hear that, because otherwise I wouldn’t think much of you," I said. This exchange completely slammed the door shut on my good nature. "Let me reemphasize that I don’t like the way you went about this, and I’m not nuts about the way you’ve changed since you became packmaster."

Alcide was genuinely amazed. "I’ve had to change," he said. "I’m not sure what you mean."

"You’re way too used to being king of everybody," I said. "But I’m not here to judge you or tell you that you ought to change because that’s just my opinion. God knows, I’ve been through plenty of changes myself, and I’m sure some of them haven’t done my character any good."

"You don’t even like me." He sounded almost dismayed, but with an edge of incredulity that enforced my feeling.

"Not so much anymore."

"Then I’ve made a fool of myself." Now he was a little angry. Well, join the club.

"An ambush is not the way to my heart. Or any other part of me."

Alcide left without another word. He hadn’t been listening until I’d said the same thing in several different ways. Maybe that was key? Saying things three times?

I watched his truck on its way back out to the road to be sure he was really gone. I looked at my watch again. Not yet nine thirty. I changed the sheets on my bed with lightning speed, stuffing the removed bedding into the washing machine and starting it. (I could not imagine Eric’s reaction if he climbed into bed with me and found it smelling like Alcide Herveaux.) I opted to use my remaining minutes before Mustapha Khan arrived to do some much-needed grooming rather than wake up Amelia or Claude and lay into them. As I brushed my hair and pulled it into a ponytail, I heard a motorcycle on the driveway.

Mustapha Khan, punctual lone werewolf. He had a small passenger clinging to him. I watched out the front window as he swung off the Harley and sauntered to the front door to knock. His companion stayed on the motorcycle.

I opened the door and looked up. Khan was about six feet tall with his head shaved close, leaving a mosslike burr. He was wearing dark glasses, trying for a "Blade" look, I figured. He was the golden brown of a chocolate chip cookie. When he took off the glasses, I saw that his eyes would be the actual dark chips. And that was the only thing remotely sweet about him. I took a deep breath, inhaled the smell of something wild. I heard my fairy kin come down the stairs behind me.