"I don't need a bodyguard," said Anna, not fooled for a moment by Charles calling Isaac an escort, but Charles hadn't expected to get away with it. "We're going somewhere that will be filled with cops and FBI agents and werewolves. It should be pretty safe. And isn't an Alpha above being a bodyguard?"
"Humor me," said Charles.
She sighed heavily - then ruined it with a sly grin. "I told Isaac to come pick me up - and that you were going to make him responsible for my health and well-being."
"If you knew what I was going to say, why did you come in here and bother me?" He growled with mock annoyance.
Anna laughed. "I'm going to go change."
"Let me know when you leave," he said, already caught up in his work again. Where had he been before she interrupted him?
When he next emerged, she was gone.
"HE LETS YOU out alone?" Isaac, without Charles to put him on edge, was more relaxed than Anna had thought, but also more pushy.
"I'm with you. Besides, werewolf here," she told him with a thumb to her chest. "Not exactly a frail princess in need of rescuing."
"That's not what I heard about you," Isaac said. "I asked about you. Omega. I was informed by my second that we should be honored that you were visiting our city. We should bring you gifts and see if we can get you to abandon your pack and join ours. When I pointed out that that meant Charles would come, too - and displace me - I was told that the blessing of having an Omega in the pack would outweigh even putting up with Charles."
Anna laughed. "Old wolves. Think they know everything."
"And then he wonders why I don't ask him more questions," Isaac agreed. "So do it."
Anna looked at him just as a raindrop hit her nose. The clouds had been threatening and the air smelled wet, but that was the first drop. "Do what?"
"'That voodoo that you do,'" Isaac said. At her expression he turned to walk backward so she could get the full effect of his eye roll and comic exaggeration. "What? You don't know Adam Ant?"
"'A thrill a day keeps the chill away,'" she sang, then said dryly, "Not his best song. You want me to what? Zap you with my awesome cosmic super Omega powers?"
"That's what I said." Isaac turned so he was walking beside her once more. "Only my request sounded cool, and yours sounds like it belongs on Saturday morning cartoons."
"They are more of an anti-superpower," Anna explained as the first few drops of water became a more steady rainfall. "If I were in a comic book, I'd be the lone stupid girl in a team of awesome, powerfully charged males. Like Sue, Invisible Girl - who was invisible in so many ways - in the Fantastic Four. Which should have been called the Fantastic Three and the Cute and Clueless Girl Who Runs Around Getting into Trouble and Being Rescued."
Isaac grinned, his expression lighter, that edge that Alphas always carried with them softened. "Not even Jessica Alba could save Sue from being wimpy."
Anna sighed in a misery-shared way. "I like superhero movies. Still, it was better than Catwoman - and Catwoman had much better material to draw from."
"So are you going to whammy me?" Isaac asked again.
She waved and did something fluttery with her fingers in her best stage magician manner, though she'd already hit him while he was quoting from "That Voodoo." She contorted her face and made funny gobbling sounds, then said, in the perfectly serious voice she'd picked up from Charles, "Consider yourself whammied."
They strode along companionably for a block. "I don't feel whammied," he said.
"What do you feel?" she asked.
Isaac took three more steps before he stiffened and stopped. "I haven't been drunk since I was changed," he whispered. "What did you do to me?"
"You aren't drunk. Not impaired physically or mentally," Anna told him.
He bowed his head, working his hands; then he turned and started walking backward again, facing her. Anna followed, keeping a sharp eye out for things he might back into or over. She wondered if Isaac did this all the time - and, if so, how he avoided getting photos in the paper with captions like "Local Alpha Trips over Child" or "Wolf Versus Street Sign, Street Sign Wins."
"I'm myself again," he said, his face almost slack with wonder. "It's just me in here." He tapped his forehead. "One night before the full moon and I don't want to hunt or sink my teeth into anything." He blinked rapidly and turned back around again so she couldn't see his face anymore. After a moment he said, "It's like the wolf is gone." There was a hint of worry in his voice.
"No," Anna answered. "Just...at peace. You could start changing right now if you wanted to."
"Before God, it is no wonder my second was salivating at the thought of you," Isaac said. "Do you worry about being kidnapped?" His voice altered just a little. "I heard that Charles rescued you from an abusive situation." He glanced over at her, his eyes glowing light yellow. The other effect of being Omega was that dominant wolves tended to be overly protective of her.
She nodded her head. "Charles saved me. My first pack turned me and kept me under their thumb. One of their old ones was crazy and her mate thought I could keep her sane. When Charles got through dealing with them, he taught me how to rescue myself." Charles had helped her regain confidence in herself. But no matter how competent she was at protecting herself, Anna knew what ultimately kept her safe from wolf packs who wanted an Omega of their own. "If someone tries to kidnap me, Charles will hunt them down. Do you know very many wolves who would be willing to face that?"
"The Marrok's bogeyman?" asked Isaac with a snort. "No." He paused a moment. "Especially if they've ever seen him fight. Hally told me that he wouldn't be able to see that fae - just know when he was around. But Charles fought like he could, like he knew exactly where it was. And I've never seen anyone - not werewolf, not vampire, not anyone - move that fast."
"His gift," Anna agreed. His bane. Maybe if he hadn't been such a good fighter, his father would have sent someone else to maintain order among his packs. But that wasn't for public discussion. She needed to change subjects.
"So where are we going?" A diner would be perfect - just a little worn-down, with cracked Naugahyde seats and scuffed-up, bad-imitation wood-grain Formica tables, where coffee was served to everyone in white cups and all of the meals were cooked in unhealthy grease: a cop's hangout, the cliche of every cop film or novel.