Free The Reluctant by Aila Cline Page B

Luka.
Want to go?”
    “What are we seeing?” he asked equally
vibrantly. Strategy achieved.
    “Some remake from the 80s,” Will
answered. “Emily’s obsessed with seeing it, so I promised we could
go tonight. Her obsession with that decade stretches to cover the
obscenity that is hair bands.”
    “Yes that is a tragedy,” Luka agreed
solemnly. Then, in a chipper tone he added, “Will there be beer?
Because everything is remarkably better when beer is involved.
Well, except when Emily provokes people into wanting to devour her
entrails whole. That’s always entertaining with or without
involving alcohol.”
    Will and I laughed at Luka’s
cheekiness.
    “Come on,” I said between laughs. “Eat
lunch with us, and then let’s see when the movie’s playing. Oh, and
my entrails are not on the menu.”
    “ Alright,” he conceded.
“But only because Will keeps beer in the fridge, no other reason
without the promise of intestines. It won’t truly be lunch without
it.” He offered me his arm.
    I slapped him playfully on the bicep
and took his arm in a courtly fashion. Gah, werewolf humor, gross.
Will followed us, lightheartedly mumbling, “Damn alcoholic
mutt.”
    Luka called back over his shoulder
dismissively, “Yes, well, better to be engaged in alcoholism than
be some emo-kid half breed with a penchant for humans.” He winked
at me. “No offense, Emily.”
    Will reacted exactly the opposite of
how I thought he would. Instead of exploding, he
laughed.
    “Yes, it’s all true,” he admitted.
“But still, at least it’s pretty humans I obsess over.”
    Luka chuckled and grinned at me.
“Indeed. Ravishing. Practically edible.”
    My face went scarlet, completely
enamored of these two bantering men. Believe me, at this point, no
thought of escape entered my mind.

    On the car ride to the theater, I
begged Luka for his story. “Will knows everything about you, it
seems. I know nothing.”
    Will supported me, albeit
mischievously. “Yeah, Luka. Let’s have a biography. I’m curious to
know what you’ll leave out.”
    “Alright, a short biography, but no
questions. I will tell you what I can—things you could have found
out from any local pack member if they were inclined to talk to you
instead of eating you and not terrified of me.”
    “No questions,” I promised. “Just tell
me.”
    I will try to recall his story as best
as possible. His serious tone surprised me, but then, they are
serious subjects he spoke of. I cannot remember it all, but the
main facts remain intact:
    “My mother and father are both
prominent Clan. I have three sisters, two older one younger. Being
raised in Venezuela was an experience like no other. I have found
nothing of that lovely country to compare here. I never believed
anything was wrong with me. Rather, my family raised me to believe
that I am special. Humans are a regrettable part of existence by
our reasoning, but since you outnumber us significantly and are a
great delicacy, we must co-exist with you.
    “Most Lycanti do not believe this.
They cannot control their passions very well, being Changelings,
and they see no need to reign in their animal side, even while
human. Most are like Brooke. They are drawn to each other’s
natures, forming their own pack here in Southern California. They
hunt together. Occasionally you will hear of people who go to the
mountains and do not reappear? Well, usually the insurgent Lycanti
are the culprits. The Clan does not condone the renegade hunting of
humans, but we are so far from this burgeoning culture that we
cannot control it effectively. Will and Brooke are the only
Americans Changed that I know of; the rest have fled the Clan in
Mexico and my family in Venezuela to escape persecution for
different offenses. Lycanti are killed if their Lycanthrope Master
dies, for they will be beyond control unless bonded to another
Master. At least three of the pack here, three of the women who
literally hunt Will like bitches in heat,