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Assorted Balls
Sterling paced in front of the television. “So it’s a prestige economy based off sex.”
“Sex as prestige as currency,” I said. “I’ve never heard of werewolf males wanting the ‘real thing’. Have you?”
“I’ve heard it in passing, but never to this extent. Jun?”
Jun, still troubled, said, “I’ve heard it, but I didn’t think it was such a big deal. I thought it was just kind of a joke, like blue balls. Sort of serious but not really.”
Sterling stopped pacing. “I admit, I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t think they were using she-wolves as currency. And the GranitePaw allow this.”
“Chaz made it sound like the GranitePaw look away as long as the she-wolf isn’t a prisoner,” I said.
Sterling shook his head, still shocked. “In a strange way, it makes sense. They’re males with no prestige. So where do they get the prestige when they can’t get it from other males? They get it from she-wolves. It all makes sense, even if it’s completely warped and deranged.”
Jun hung his head and told me, “I knew he was a creep, but I didn’t know he was that kind of creep. He really meant it when he said he’d fuck you until… you know.”
“Until what?” Sterling asked.
“He said he’d fuck the pride out of me,” I said.
“That wolf is a fool if he thinks he can earn your submission.”
“I’m not concerned. He doesn’t have the balls to do it. But I do want to know what the yellow balls reference means. I know what blue balls are, but what are yellow balls?”
Sterling thought a minute. “Maybe it’s a reference to pool balls. The nine ball is yellow striped.”
“Well, now I need some brain bleach.” Nine. The number of possible combinations between werewolves looking to play sexy shifter pretzel time. “Why not just call it getting to heaven? You know, hopscotch? Or sex-suduko? Or tic-tac-toe?”
Jun grimaced. “We’re dealing with a bunch of lupine incels.”
Sterling sighed. “So much for hoping it was something more grand and intricate.”
It did explain why FryerVats was so damn determined and willing to take big risks. Even Chaz, who didn’t want to run afoul of the GranitePaw, had been willing to gamble. Make off with me for a few days, peddle me to a few strategic males, then dump my mangled (but still alive) body somewhere Sterling would find me, and take his chances that we wouldn’t risk involving the human legal system, Sterling wouldn’t want to compound the prestige complications by killing him, and the GranitePaw would chalk it up to all’s well that ends well.
It would explain why it was almost always him (or the same couple of cronies) hunting me. He’d found the prey, he had dibs on it. It also meant (hopefully) the whole hive wouldn’t descend on me, because I was his prey. He’d only invite as many wolves as necessary, because he’d have to share me with all of them.
Even a big bull moose kill could only be divided so many ways before it just wasn’t worth much.
That level of determination also meant simply leaving the city wouldn’t deter them.
Cye bumped Jun. “Okay, let’s talk about something not terrible.”
“I’m all for not terrible,” I agreed.
Jun rubbed the back of his neck. “So um… might be the wrong time to ask but… can we decorate for Solstice?”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s not Solstice season yet,” We had just finished Thanksgiving, and that still meant we were riding the pumpkin spice tide. Haybale-and-leaf decor had only just started to recede under an increasing stampede of cars that strapped red fabric balls to the grills, or bows, or felt antlers out the windows. We still had about a week before it was officially the werewolf Solstice season, going by our lunar calendar, which marked the official end of our autumn and the official start of our winter.
Jun looked to Cye for support, but Cye was tapping away on his tablet. Jun rubbed the back of his head. “Well, we meant Solstice. It’s also been a crappy autumn. Can’t we just skip ahead a week or two? The humans do it! They skip ahead a whole month! Let’s do something wholesome. Because today was gross.”
Crap autumn was an understatement. My brother had recalibrated my understanding of what a crap autumn was.
“Pleeeeassse?” Jun begged. He clasped his hands together in supplication.
I glanced at Sterling. He shrugged. “It’s your den.”
