WERECON 2012: STILLMAN AND MACDOWELL SNOWBOUND!

Exclusive WEREWOLF CELEBRITY WATCH report by Angela Sapworthy

(Denver) Following a harrowing auto accident in the midst of the worst snowstorm to hit the city in decades, HOWL leader Kate Stillman and WOOF leader Duncan MacDowell have taken refuge in an unoccupied cabin several miles from the conference site. This reporter talked with a visibly shaken Elizabeth Stillman, Kate’s grandmother and the Stillman pack alpha.

“I’m so relieved they’re all right,” Elizabeth said. “This is a killer blizzard and I feared the worst. Thank goodness they found a safe haven.”

Other conference attendees echoed that sentiment, although several wondered whether a storm might take place inside the cabin as well as outside! After a summer of battling online, these two are face-to-face at last, with no referee! Emma Wallace, Aidan Wallace’s lovely mate and a fellow writer, was heard to say that she would love to be a mouse in the corner of that cabin. This reporter would, too! With luck, Kate and Duncan will inform their followers of the details on Sniffer!

Duncan had made his case and lost. As he’d unlaced Kate’s boots, he’d been struck by this new thought—that the snowstorm had isolated them completely. No one could barge in on them to interrupt…whatever might be going on. He had some vivid mental images of what could be going on if they allowed themselves full rein.

They’d already vowed to keep their interaction in this cabin private, so they could do whatever they wanted tonight. Maybe that wasn’t a noble conclusion to reach, but he wasn’t convinced he could be noble for another twelve hours given their circumstances. He wasn’t sure that she could, either, and so why make themselves miserable if, in the end, they’d succumb?

Better to succumb sooner rather than later, in his opinion, and reap the rewards of more time alone together. Once they arrived at the conference, they wouldn’t dare step out of line. This would be their one and only chance, maybe literally, for ever and ever.

He’d even begun to convince himself that Fate had thrown them together tonight. They were unlikely partners, and reason said they wouldn’t get along. But on one level, the purely physical, sexual level, they could be a perfect match. Now he would never know.

She waved the cell phone she still held. “I’m going to post on Sniffer. Our isolation is making us forget our responsibility, but reconnecting with our followers should help us focus.”

“Until our phones go dead. I don’t know about you, but I left my charger in my suitcase and my battery’s low.”

Glancing at her phone, she winced. “Mine, too. So here’s a thought. Let’s each post something on Sniffer and then turn off our phones so we can conserve battery life and post again later.”

“All right.” He retrieved his phone from inside his top coat. “You first. I’ll respond to your Sniff.”

She looked up from her phone. “Just like old times.”

“Except we’re not an ocean apart.”

“Exactly. And therein lies the problem.” She returned her attention to her phone and began typing in her Sniff.

He supposed it was a problem, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret a single minute of this adventure so far. Now that he thought back over their Sniffs and blog posts, there had always been sexual overtones. Without acknowledging it to himself, he’d expected them to spark off of each other when they met.

And they had. Good lord had they ever.

“Done.” She pushed a final button. “Your turn.”

Consulting his screen, he found her Sniff. @KateStillman Duncan MacDowell claims to live in a castle but says he’s no prince. #totallyagree

Trying not to laugh, he looked at her, eyebrows lifted.

“Well, you did say that.”

“Aye.” He hid a smile as he typed his response. Kate Stillman carried a torch for me, but, sadly, she no longer does. #torchextinguished

She reacted the instant she saw the Sniff on her phone. “Hey, no fair!”

“It’s true.”

“But they probably don’t realize that you call a flashlight a torch! I’m responding to that.” Her fingers flew over the surface of her phone.

A moment later, her reply to his Sniff arrived on his phone. @DuncanMacDowell You’re mistaken, Woofer. That torch was a flashlight to keep track of your shenanigans. #clearvision

He couldn’t help chuckling. Sniffs from Woofers and Howlers began popping up in response to the interchange and the battle was on.

“Ha! The Italian delegate says my posts are magnifico!” Kate said.

“That’s nothing. The Russian delegate just offered to buy me as much vodka as I can hold.” He glanced at her. “Guess that woke them up. Feel better, now? More focused?” The silly little banter hadn’t helped him one bit. It had only reminded him of the fun he’d had sparring with her this summer.

“Sort of.” She didn’t sound very convincing. “Let’s turn these things off and save our batteries.” Her phone rang before she could do it. “Oops.” She glanced at the screen. “I’d better take this. I won’t be long.”

Powering down his phone, he laid it on the kitchen table as he wondered who the high-priority call could be from. Not her grandmother. If it had been the Stewarts, she would have said so. He suspected a lover. She ran a dating site, so she must have dozens to choose from.

Her secretive behavior as she walked into the living room and lowered her voice confirmed his suspicions. And yet…she’d admitted earlier that she’d responded to his kiss because she’d wanted to be seduced. She must not have an exclusive arrangement with this Were, whoever he was.

It was none of Duncan’s bloody business, but as he went through the cupboards in search of something they could warm up for dinner, he eavesdropped with morbid fascination. Even with his superior hearing he only got snatches of the conversation. Yet because his name came up a couple of times, he was reasonably sure Kate was discussing him.

Her soft laughter that followed a mention of his name pricked his ego. He acknowledged that he had one, although it wasn’t as big as Kate seemed to think. Trading punches on Sniffer was one thing, but he didn’t relish being the subject of a private joke between Kate and whatever randy Were she was talking to. That was too personal.

By the time she got off the phone and came back to the kitchen, his mood had deteriorated considerably. “I suppose he’s worried about you spending the night alone in this cabin with me.” As well he should be, considering that scorcher of a kiss.

Duncan took two more cans from the cupboard and set them on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. The satisfying clunk of metal cans on the tile counter pleased him.

“Who is worried?” She asked it so innocently, as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

But he wasn’t born yesterday. “The Were you were talking to just now.” He pulled more cans out of the cupboard without looking at her. “It’s plain that you have something going with him, and he can’t be happy about this situation you’re in, getting trapped for the night with me.”

“So you think I was talking to my lover?”

“Pretty damned obvious that you were, lass. I’ll wager you didn’t mention that kiss, now, did you?”

“I promised you I’d keep that incident private, and I will. But I suppose you don’t know me well enough to trust me not to blab.”

She sounded so blasted reasonable, so calm. There was even a hint of laughter in her voice. Meanwhile he was seething inside. And for no good reason, either. One kiss didn’t mean he had any right to feel jealousy regarding her. He was mostly angry with himself for letting that nasty emotion get its hooks into him.

He’d blame his funk on jet lag, and on finishing her book mere hours ago, which gave him an unreasonable view of how well he knew her. Plus their online contact, though contentious, might have tricked him into thinking he was the most important male Were in her life right now. Stupid.

He reached up to the top shelf for more cans. “I have to trust you. I don’t have a choice.”

“Duncan, you can stop stacking those cans. That’s plenty to choose from and you have some duplicates.”

He finally noticed that he’d gathered a grocery market full of canned goods on the counter. In his preoccupation with Kate’s phone call from her lover, he’d lost track of what he was doing and why. But he hated admitting that.

“Wanted to make sure we knew all our choices.” He waved a hand at the collection he’d created. “What do you fancy for dinner?”

“The chili looks good.”

He glanced at her. “That’s it? Nothing else, then?”

“One can of chili is more than enough for me, but if you want some, we should open two.”

Duncan pretended to study the options carefully, when in fact he’d be happy with warmed up chili, too. But he’d hauled all this out of the cupboard, so he picked up two or three other cans and turned them around to read the ingredients as if trying to decide.

Finally he nodded. “Chili would be fine. I’ll just put this lot back in the cupboard for now. At least you know what’s available, if you get hungry for something else.” He began putting the cans back in the approximate order they’d been before, although he couldn’t guarantee they were the way the Stewarts had them. Other things had occupied his mind while he’d been emptying the shelves.

“Thanks, Duncan. I’ll look for a can opener and a saucepan.” There was that hint of laughter again. “I appreciate you being so thorough.”

Still irritated with himself for his behavior and her for enjoying it too much, he paused and turned to her. “I’m glad to be a source of amusement to you, lass. You and your lover, too, in fact. I heard you over there having a wee chuckle on my account.”

That brought her laughter bubbling to the surface. “Duncan, that wasn’t my lover. That was my assistant, Heidi, reporting that the Furevermore site is back up and wanting to know if you’d said or done anything suspicious. She’s convinced the Woofers are behind our site crashing today.”

“Your assistant.” Heat climbed up from the collar of his sweater as he began replacing the cans faster, now. “Bloody hell.” He felt like a fool, but a relieved fool.

“It was bad of me, I know, but I got a kick out of watching you work yourself into a lather over it while you hauled every blessed item out of that cupboard.” She put a pan on the stove.

“I wouldn’t say I was in a lather. I just—”

“You didn’t like the idea of me taking a call from my lover right under your nose, after we’d both confessed we were attracted to each other. I get that.” She opened the first can of chili. “If the call had been my lover, I wouldn’t have answered. That would have been tacky.”

“Then you have a lover?” To his dismay, he discovered that he still hated the idea.

“Not at the moment.” She dumped the can of chili in the saucepan and opened the second one. “And now that we’re on the subject, do you have a lover?”

“Not at the moment.”

She emptied the second can, opened a drawer and took out a large spoon. “Well, that’s good, because to be honest, I don’t think a hot kiss like the one we shared should happen unless the two Weres involved are unattached.” She turned on the heat under the chili and stirred the contents of the pan. “I realize not everyone agrees with that somewhat conservative view, but—”

“I do.”

She glanced up in surprise. “Really? I got the impression from discussions online that you like to play the field, keep your options open.”

“Don’t believe everything you see online. When I become involved it’s strictly exclusive. And I expect the same from her. You can’t get to know someone unless you agree to see only each other.”

Her gaze narrowed. “You’re not just saying that because you read it in my book, are you?”

“No.” He propped a hip against the counter and settled in to what was becoming a cozy domestic scene. After the long plane ride and the drama of their escape from the storm, he was beginning to relax at last. “I was glad to read it in your book, though.”

“So you liked at least that part.” She went back to stirring the chili.

“I liked nearly all of it. The sexual tips are…informative.”

She laughed. “They’re what made it a bestseller. I did a lot of research for that section. Even though Weres are taught about sex once they reach puberty, not everyone approaches the subject with imagination.”

He wondered if the research was personal or academic but chose not to ask and risk veering off into territory that could get them both in trouble. “That’s one of the reasons I advocate dating humans. We can enrich our sexual knowledge by tapping into human imagination.”

“But how can humans be of any help when they’re limited in their sexual exploration by the threat of pregnancy or disease?”

“Aye, they are, and that’s why they have to get more imaginative.”

She looked at him with a challenge in her blue eyes. “Okay, name one area in which humans have added to your sexual knowledge.”

“Sex toys.”

With a wave of her hand, she dismissed his answer. “Weres don’t need sex toys.”

“We may not need them, but why not enjoy them? Why not enhance the experience a little now and then?” He shouldn’t be talking about such a loaded topic, but sex toys were a perfect example of how Weres could benefit from interspecies dating and, eventually, mating, too. At least he didn’t have any with him so he wouldn’t be tempted to demonstrate.

“They’re just substitutes for the real thing. They’re artificial and…unnecessary.”

If he had a couple of items here and the freedom to make love to her, he’d change her mind in no time, but that wasn’t the case, so he had to make the argument intellectually. “You run a dating site for Weres. I can’t believe that everyone on your site is successful in finding a partner right away.”

“Maybe not right away, but soon enough, I think. There’s nothing wrong with being celibate now and then.” She turned off the heat under the chili. “It’s ready. Do you want to take Edith at her word and open a bottle of their wine?”

He always enjoyed a bit of wine with his food. “Might as well. We’ll put it on our tab.”

“She said there’s a cabinet in the living room. I’ll dish the chili if you’ll search out the wine.”

“I’ll be right back.” He found the wine cabinet with no trouble. Crouching down, he chose a bottle of red from the small supply and located the corkscrew.

But as he started to close the cabinet, he wondered if drinking it might soften Kate’s resolve concerning him. He should probably keep his mouth shut because he wouldn’t mind a bit if it did. But his conscience prompted him to glance toward the kitchen. “Aren’t you worried that wine will lower your resistance?”

“I’ll take the chance. When dinner is a can of chili, you need something to elevate the quality of the meal, don’t you think?”

“Aye, I most certainly do.” On the way back to the kitchen table, he rotated the dimmer switch. “Mood lighting helps, too.”

“Definitely.” She gestured toward the two steaming bowls on the table. “I picked her prettiest stoneware, too.”

“Then you might as well see if they have any crystal goblets somewhere.” He twisted the corkscrew in and opened the wine.

“These will have to do, I’m afraid.” She set a plain wine glass at each of their places.

“That’ll do.” He filled each one to the top and put the open bottle in the middle of the table. Then he pulled back one of the chairs and held it for her. “Please be seated, milady.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” She took her seat with a smoothness that was very Were-like.

Because he’d shared more meals with human females recently, he’d forgotten how fluid a Were could be in her movements. A few humans he’d dated had come close to that kind of grace, but had never quite matched it.

This close to her, he became more aware of her scent, one he’d reacted to from the moment he’d walked into the baggage claim area. He’d been telling himself for the past few years that human females had a more exotic scent, and that might be true. But Kate’s aroma brought a more primitive response than he’d had to any woman he’d dated.

Fighting the urge to lean down and nuzzle the side of her neck, he let go of her chair and walked around the table to his place on the opposite side. Once he was seated, he raised his glass. “To cooperation.”

“If you mean what I think you mean, I can’t drink to that.”

Stubborn female. But he liked her loyalty and spunk. “Then you propose a toast.”

She lifted her glass. “To standards.”

“What sort of standards?”

“Werewolf standards, of course.” She gazed at him. “You are a Were, after all, and I assume you have standards, so what’s wrong with that?”

“It sounds ominously close to a HOWL pledge, and I don’t want to find out later that you’ve told the Sniffer world I took the HOWL pledge. So how about this—to greater understanding.”

She shook her head. “That sounds like a WOOF pledge that could turn into a Sniffer post about me being in favor of greater understanding between humans and werewolves. No, thanks.”

He looked into her eyes. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“I trust you as much as you trust me, Woofer.”

“Then let’s drink to the blizzard.”

“The blizzard? Why?”

“Because, lass, in spite of all we’ve been through, and in spite of our mutual mistrust and lack of agreement on major issues, I wouldn’t have missed being snowbound with you for anything.”

Her lips curved in a wicked little smile. “Same here.” She lifted her glass and touched it to his. “To the blizzard.”

He held her gaze as they both drank. He could be wrong, and God knows she was an unpredictable female, but he had the feeling she’d begun to reconsider how they’d spend the rest of the evening.

Picking up his spoon, he began eating the chili. “Not bad.”

“Anything tastes good when you’re really hungry.”

He allowed that concept to sink in as they both ate some more. Then he picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and broached a subject dear to his heart. “Speaking of celibacy…”

“Were we?”

“You brought it up a while ago, and here we are eating canned chili and relishing every bite. I’m just making a natural connection between celibacy and hunger.” He took another drink of his wine before returning his attention to his chili.

“I guess you could say they’re related.”

He put down his spoon again and looked across the table. She glanced up. Her eyes were luminous in the soft light of the chandelier. He imagined her in wolf form, blonde and sleek, and discovered to his surprise that he longed to see her that way. He’d thought the days of Were sex were over for him and that he didn’t miss the concept. Not true.

His body tightened as his mind raced ahead of his words. “Would you agree that if you go without sex for a while you enjoy it more when you finally have some?”

“I suppose.”

“So how long has it been, lass?”

“You first.” She held his gaze.

“Six months.” He picked up his glass and took a fortifying swallow of wine. He didn’t often reveal that sort of information. Most male Weres would think he was crazy to stay out of the game for six months.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Organizing WOOF, writing my book, blogging.” And he’d been preoccupied with her since early summer. He could admit it to himself now, although he hadn’t realized it before. “Your turn.”

“A year.”

His blood heated. No wonder she’d kissed him so enthusiastically. “That’s a long time.”

“My excuses are like yours—organizing HOWL, writing my book, blogging. And then there’s Furevermore.”

“Which should provide an endless supply of single Weres for your pleasure.”

She shook her head. “You might think so, but I’ve been too busy to take advantage of my own dating site.”

“Now that’s just wrong.” He paused, hoping she was with him on this. “You’re not busy with those things right now.”

Surrender glowed in her eyes for a moment, and then she shook her head and smiled. “You’re good at this, Duncan.”

Damn it, she’d ruined the mood he’d worked so hard to create. “At what?”

“Building an argument, tightening the noose, making others see things your way. No wonder you’re the champion of the WOOF movement.”

He made one last try, although he knew he’d lost the round. “This has nothing to do with being a Woofer or a Howler. I just think—”

“I know exactly what you think. You’ve made it very clear that despite our differences, we’re alike in one way. We’re both sexually deprived and would be fools not to take advantage of this golden opportunity to experience what would be an outstanding romp after a long layoff—especially long in my case.”

“Is that such a bad conclusion?”

“I’m not sure yet.” She drained her wineglass. “I need to consider this from all angles.”

He groaned. “You’re torturing me.”

“Maybe so, but according to you, postponing sex makes it sweeter when you finally have it.”

“Aye! But that’s why we should—”

“Draw out the suspense even more? I completely agree. The rewards will be even greater, assuming we get together in the end.” Kate drained her wineglass. “I’m going to grab some of that wood from the back porch so we can build a fire.”

Duncan pushed back his chair. With the frustration rolling through him, he could probably light it with the tip of his finger.