Dead Reckoning(73)

“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.

“Mr. Khan?” I said politely. “Please come in. I’m Sookie Stackhouse, and these two guys are Dermot and Claude.” From Claude’s avid expression, I was not the only one who’d thought of chocolate chip cookies. Dermot only looked wary.