The Luna's Bodyguard [a mature werewolf romance]

Ch 14: Charity Case

OPHELIA'S POV

The dresses were only the beginning.

Then we rounded up shoes and makeup and perfumes. Addy screwed up her face when I drew lines of eyeshadow on the inside of my wrist to test the colours; apparently it looked tacky.

I responded by making a sparkling rainbow on both arms. Then I dabbed a touch of rose-gold on my eyelids, if only because it was patchy and I was hoping to give the half-witch a spontaneous aneurysm.

Unfortunately Addy persevered, but I liked the way my arms sparkled when I reached out to take on yet another shopping bag, so that poor Fallon could take a break. I didn't like the way the others kept handing him stuff, like he was beneath them somehow.

It must have earned me some points, because Fallon was being suspiciously nice to me now. When Addy bullied me into getting my ears pierced, Fallon dropped everything (quite literally, to the half-witch's exclamation of horror) and offered me his hand to hold. I took it for fear of crushing the arms of the chair they sat me in, and the stoic werewolf offered me a tiny, intimate smile as I probably crushed half the bones in his fingers. I hated the way it made my heart flutter.

Nate was being weird, too. When I asked for something normal to wear as it got colder, he took note of my size on a tag and disappeared for an hour, only to come back with a whole damn casual wardrobe. I had to acknowledge he had good taste by the end of the day, when I was wrapped in a hug of an oversized cardigan and soft, flexible jeans that moulded to the shape of my legs like water. It felt like I was walking around in a puffy doona. By the time we hailed a cab, I felt like I bouncing inside like a beach ball.

"Stop rubbing your arm like a junky," Addy sniped from the front seat.

"I can't help it! it's so soft," I exclaimed, running my hands up the woollen sleeves again. My knuckles accidentally brushed the arms of the men I was crammed between, and they stiffened at the contact.

"Sorry," I said, frowning when they both leaned away, towards the streaky windows.

I was lumped with the middle seat, of course, but the boys were being weirdly considerate, Fallon pressing his muscular thighs together, while Nate crossed his legs to give me more room. I almost wished they'd just claim their space without regard for my feelings; I was starting to feel like a bit of a leper.

Nate was frowning too, but his mind was elsewhere. "Have you truly never worn cashmere before?"

Christ, the pedigree in his voice was infuriating. And alluring, somehow. "Honey, this is the first time I've ever bought something straight from the store."

Now it was Fallon's turn to frown. "What do you mean?"

"Everything I own is second hand," I explained. "What? Don't look at me like that. There's nothing wrong with stuff from the charity shop."

Fallon's confusion turned to dismay, but Nate leaned forward, intrigued. "You know, I've never actually been," he said. "They have all this old stuff there, right? Like antiques?"

"Yeah," I said, turning to face him. "People donate the stuff they don't want or need anymore, and the proceeds all go to charity. I actually kinda like it. Everything in there has its own story, a history. And you get to become a part of it."