Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale by Tracy Falbe Page A

said.
    “A kiss on the cheek,” she said. Her wide
grin made him smile as she tapped her face impatiently.
    Thal leaned over the cards to her. Emerald
fluttered her eyelashes, and he suddenly realized what Medina had
been fishing for that afternoon. He pressed his lips against
Emerald’s soft face. The warmth of the human connection washed away
his concerns for a moment.
    He sat back, grateful for Emerald’s gentle
coaching.
    “You can kiss more of me if you’d like,” she
said.
    “I’m not ready,” he confessed.
    Emerald laughed. “That’s first I heard a
young man use that excuse. The girls aren’t going to wait for you
long, Thal. I suppose you don’t realize how handsome you are.”
    He touched his chin. The stubble was longer
and he had figured that he looked rather scruffy. “Good night,” he
said.
    ******
    Every evening the fattening moon stayed in
the sky a little longer and extended the camp festivities. More
people visited from the village. Music, games, drinking, and
dancing entertained everyone. Emerald engaged a few people in tarot
readings, and Thal got his chance to play primero. Jan and Lucas
came back on the same night that two imperial couriers were camping
nearby. Andreli and Thal played with the four men. Thal lost his
few precious coins most efficiently but felt that he had learned
more of the nuances of the game. He was surprised in the morning
when Andreli happily staked him again and told him to be ready that
night.
    But the weather turned cool and rainy. For
several days the drizzly weather persisted and kept the camp quiet.
Thal hunted again with the men and dogs and poached another deer.
He helped with chores and spoke sometimes with Medina. This time he
recognized how she was flirting with him. Although curious about
her bodily charms, he remained carefully platonic. Knowing how she
contributed to her community subdued his attraction. He was used to
being the revered mate of glorious alpha females, and the chance to
be one man among many did not fire his enthusiasm. He wanted to be
more to a woman than just an entertaining trifle.
    He spent more time examining his fur. Softly
he mouthed the words on it, and each time he heard them he felt
closer to understanding them. Emerald’s tarot reading had been
correct about secret knowledge.
    When a morning dawned full of sunny
excitement, Andreli expected to enjoy a busy night. The Gypsy
leader got out his pistol and started cleaning it. Thal observed
with interest. Gerling brought over his pistol and borrowed a rag
from Andreli.
    Gerling was the portly man who Thal had taken
the pistol from when he first entered camp. Thal still sensed some
apprehension from the man who had witnessed his feral energy up
close, but Gerling was making an effort to get past his first
impression because of Andreli’s fondness for the newcomer.
    He showed Thal how the pistol worked and let
him trigger the firing mechanism a couple times without gunpowder
so he could see the spark.
    The wooden stock of Andreli’s hefty pistol
had a dark patina and the brass embellishments had been lovingly
polished. He handed it to Thal who weighed the weapon in his
hands.
    “How did you get this?” Thal asked.
    “I salvaged it from a battlefield,” Andreli
said.
    “A very fresh battlefield,” Gerling put in
while scrubbing his barrel.
    “You have to be quick to get a weapon.
Something like this does not stay on the ground long,” Andreli
said. He took the weapon back from Thal and continued, “Lousy
barons shouldn’t fight their battle so close to my camp if they
don’t want things to come up missing.”
    “Have you ever killed anyone with it?” Thal
said.
    The question startled Andreli. “A man? No! I
shot at an old bear once to scare it off. To tell the truth, it’s
hard to hit a bull in a shithouse with this thing, but just holding
it will triple anyone’s respect for you. By the Saints, that’s
true.”
    “Unless you haven’t the sense to be