Blackmailing A Werewolf

Chapter 23

Water trickles over the rocks, Tessa throws her arms out for balance as she steps over them. The wind blows trying to toss Tessa into the water. A ripple of laughter escapes her and she throws herself the other way balancing on one foot to counteract it. Branches rustle and the crows cheer her on.

"Careful," His lips are so close to her ear she can sense them moving, the tickle of his warm breath chasing down her spine. Calloused hands are planted on her waist and then with a shriek she is being leant over the water. "Or you might fall in."

The water spits at her marking her cheeks like freckles. Rye's rumble of laughter vibrates through her and she grabs his jumper. Tessa shrieks arms flailing her free leg kicking the air, her pleas for mercy indecipherable through her own laughter. Rye's laugh rolls in her ears even after he righted her.

"You could have dropped me." She gives his arm a playful shove, half hoping he would stumble off the stepping stones and into the drink himself. Instead he smirks, stepping onto the rock closest to her. His arms are around her waist again, but this time both her feet lift off the floor and she is being tipped backwards. The forest is a collage of mustards, maroons and magentas through the stands of her blonde hair as she is lowered down, down, down. The tips of her hair are swept away in the water. Her screams intermingled with laughter she digs her nails into his arm.

"Put me down! Put me down!"

"What? You want me to drop you in the water?" He lowers her further. The rush of water in her ears along with her heartbeat and his chuckling makes her stomach flip. "This is for calling me a slow wolf earlier."

"But you are one." Tessa cried scrunching her eyes shut, "I beat you to Devil's Reach by thirty seconds."

"Say I'm the fastest wolf ever or I'm dropping you." He lowers her again making her shriek and grapple at his blazer.

"Alright! Alright, you Rye Frost are the fastest wolf ever."

"What's going on here?"

She lurches forward. Rye's grip has loosened on her and she's falling towards the water and the rocks beneath for real this time. Hands flying out she grabs at the air. Nothing. His arms tighten around her waist. In one swift motion she is pulled to her feet and into Rye's heaving chest. It's warm and solid and helps coax her heart out of her feet. But he is rigid beneath her.

She opens her eyes and likes the playful Rye who chased her all the way she has gone. The Rye who plays noughts and crosses with her in class, chases after her through the forest, who laughs genuinely is gone. Unusually there is a little crack in his facade today, he bends his head to examine her, still holding her to his chest.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" His voice is the personification of a kicked puppy.

"No, I'm fine." Tessa shakes her head, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. But then it disappears along with the weight of his arm around her waist when he takes a step back. Her fingers fizzle with the adrenaline, or maybe it is with the loss of contact.

"I'll ask one more time," They both spin around, Rye overbalancing on his rock and she catches his flailing arm before he can slip, Walter and Otto stand a few feet away both with their arms crossed and faces pulled tight. Walter continues. "What is going on here?"

"Nothing." Rye shoves his hands in his pockets and stalks to the otherside stamping his feet into the solid ground. She hopes one day he can be himself around her friends too, but at the same time is it selfish that she wants to keep this version of him all to herself? It is - she decides. Rye deserves to feel like he can be happy around anyone, even it makes her intestines crawl.

"We were coming to meet you guys at the cafe." Pants Tessa picking her way across the stones, accepting Walter and Otto's arms as they heave her up the muddy bank. When she lets go of their arms her fingers do not tingle the same way they did with Rye's.

"You were supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago so we could go over our game plan before the girls get here."

"Technically, we are here." Tessa points to the cottage ten metres downstream. Attached to the side of the cottage the mill wheel groans and the older than Mrs Clare herself creaks in the wind. Rose bushes try to fight their way into the shoebox windows and a chimney turns out smoke. Mrs Clare always used to tell them as children that a dragon lived in the cellar and that's why her house huffed out so much smoke. Mrs Clare also always says she liked people until they turn into teenagers and then it's all downhill from there.

"Whatever." Walter scowled. He had the pinched scowl of their mum, she wishes she had the same scowl. Everyone always said Tessa got her scowl from her dad and Tessa would try hard to remember what that looked like, but always came short.

Shaking herself, Tessa followed Rye down the path now was not the time to think of such things. Instead she focused on the slumping roof of the cottage, the moss gathering on the dry stone walls, the squeak of the iron gate as they entered the garden. Unable to resist tracing her fingers over the iron door knob moulded into the shape of wolf's head. She always wondered which century it hailed from, and if the maker knew about the real wolves living just over the ridge.

"I still think your plan is rubbish." Declares Otto.

"Good for you." Walter rolls his eyes, "I still think your plan to go to Manchester to get drunk is idiotic, but you don't hear me complaining."

"You just did."