Vamp, Wolf, or Shifter?

Stables and Reveries

Dinner that evening is… tense, to say the least.

I don’t think either of them knows about my little stairwell tryst with Dean. Judging from how psychotic Aidan acted the first time, I think if he did know, he’d be acting a lot weirder.

But he doesn’t seem to love the idea of Finn coming to stay with us.

“I don’t understand,” he says as he pokes uninterestedly at his steak dinner. “You haven’t even been here a week. Why does he already need to visit you?”

I rack my brain for a lie that makes sense—after all, Aidan has a point. “He… wants to come to the party,” I improvise. “I told him about it—about how it’s in my honor, or whatever. He said if that was the case, I should be able to invite at least one of my old friends.”

Judging from their reactions, it seems to be the right thing to say. After all, if they really want this to be my party, shouldn’t I have a say in the guest list?

“How long would he stay here?” Aidan finally asks.

“Just for the weekend. One night.”

Cooper’s eyes shoot up on the word night, and the concern in his eyes is impossible to miss. He holds my gaze for a second, then asks carefully, “Are you… romantically involved with him?”

It seems silly to me that he would ask me that question in front of his father; even if I was involved with Finn, I wouldn’t admit it here. “No—never. We’re just friends.”

The relief in his eyes is evident, and I can hardly believe it. Sure, he’s been flirting with me on and off since my arrival, and he’s invited me into his friend group, but…

It’s Cooper we’re talking about. The handsomest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on—not to mention one of the most popular kids at Pewter. Is he really this interested in me?

“Very well,” Aidan finally says, setting his silverware down on top of his mostly untouched plate and rising to his feet. “He can stay for one night—tomorrow night. But try not to let him monopolize all of your time, Quinn. This party is about introducing you to new friends.”

Another shiver runs down my spine at that—what business does this virtual stranger have choosing my friends for me?—but I ignore it, forcing a smile as he takes his leave of us.

“Hey, Coop?” I ask when it’s just the two of us.

“Yes, Quinn?”

I like how he says my name. There’s something sort of endearingly cocky about it—like he knows the effect is has on me.

“Is it true there are stables here? Like—with horses?”

He chuckles. “Yeah—it’s true. Aidan has sort of a… fascination with them. Mostly with breeding them, but there’s a few that are rideable. You want me to take you there?”

I do want him to take me there. The thought of an evening stroll to the stables with Cooper—perhaps even a ride, though I’ve never actually ridden a horse before—sounds tempting, to say the least.

But if he took me there, then Dean would never show. And frustrating as I might find Dean, I still want to know what he knows about Aidan.

So I smile as delicately as I can and politely decline. “I think I’d like to just go and sit with the horses by myself for a while, if that’s okay.”

He grins. “I don’t know what it is with girls and horses, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” He rises to his feet and gives me an easy wave. “See you tomorrow.”

And he winks at me.

- - - - -

I arrive at the stables about an hour earlier than Dean said to meet him, but I thought it less suspicious to venture out of the mansion earlier than later. A few servants eyed me with concern as I exited, and the guard at the main entrance asked where I was going, but when I told him that I was taking my dog on a walk to the stables, he let me go without trouble.

I like it there, I decide shortly after arriving. The stable hand on duty is a younger boy—probably thirteen, if I had to guess. He blushes when he sees me, then asks if he should tack up one of the horses for me. I laugh as I explain that I have no idea how to ride; he mumbles that he wouldn’t mind teaching me.

“I would really like that,” I assure him. “But maybe one day that it’s not so late.”

“No problem, Miss.” He glances down at Balto and gives him a pat. “I like your dog.”

“Seems to be the unpopular opinion around here,” I say under my breath.

He doesn’t seem to catch the sarcasm. “Well, I’ll be upstairs if you need anything, Miss. Just holler.” And he climbs up into the hay loft, which I assume is where he sleeps.

Is it just me, or is that illegal child labor? Where the hell are this kid’s parents?

I’ll add it to the list, I muse grimly as I start to explore the stables.

The horses are beautiful, which is no surprise. They’re huge—not quite as big as the draft horses you see in the beer commercials, but much bigger than I expected. My favorite is a jet black one with a large, white blaze and a fierce expression on his face. I settle onto a hay bale across from his stall and watch him, falling deeper and deeper into a fascinated trance until, suddenly, I’m shaken from my reverie by Balto’s growl.

I glance up, then shriek when I see the giant, hulking figure towering above me. 

Dean.

“Jesus,” I manage, reaching out to calm Balto, who looks like he has half a mind to attack Dean. “How does such a big guy manage to sneak around so quietly?” 

He laughs. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You okay? It was like you were in a trance.”

It’s weird, hearing this robotic, monotonous guy both laugh and ask me if I’m okay. “Yeah—fine. Was just admiring this horse.”

He glances behind him at the horse, then turns back to me. There’s a trace of a smile on his lips, but it looks sort of… bitter. “You have good taste. He used to be mine.”

“Yours?” I repeat dubiously. “Are you saying the Roswells stole him from you?”

He parts his lips to answer me, then seems to think better of it and glances down at Balto instead. Thankfully, Balto seems to have gotten over his initial concerns about Dean. “Is that…?”

I groan. “Not you, too.”

He raises an eyebrow, not seeming to follow.

“It’s just the Roswells,” I explain, blushing. “They seem to have a thing about dogs. Scared of them, or something.”

He looks amused by that—almost pleased. But he doesn’t comment on it; instead, he stoops down to greet Balto. He looks strangely intrigued by the dog—the same way I was looking at what used to be his horse only a few minutes ago. “He’s yours?”

I nod. “Only thing I have left of home.”

He glances up at me. “That’s not entirely true, is it? You were speaking to someone from your home yesterday.”

Right—the conversation he eavesdropped on. The reminder that he spied on me instantly causes me to tense up. “What did you come here to tell me, Dean?”

“I came here to tell you the truth about the Roswells. But before I do, I need you to tell me the truth about you.”