Wolfmates: Ruff & Ready

by Dakota Cassidy

  “I’ll bet. I’d even bet that it was how you found out Lassiter was a vampire,” Max mused.

  “I showed up at his door in my werewolf form and he let me in. He thought I was a stray. He fed me…” she revealed, her face turning red from humiliation.

  JC began to laugh so hard that tears streamed down her face. “Oh, do I know that story. Max did the same thing. I took Max to PETsMART and to the vet to be neutered.”

  Emerson couldn’t help but laugh too. It was all too unbelievable.

  “So what happened? Did he turn into a bat?” Max queried.

  “No, nothing like that, but he’s got a whole lotta blood in his refrigerator and he sorta confessed to Prince — er, me, that he was a vampire.”

  “Any clue as to why he never told you, Emerson?” JC asked, smiling in sympathy at her.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she shook her head. “I’d guess for the same reasons I didn’t tell him. Who just walks up to their high school crush and says ‘I’m a werewolf’?”

  “Hell if I don’t know that,” Max commented wryly, sending JC a warm smile.

  “He also mentioned a letter. A letter he was telling that parakeet Bud about.”

  “You know,” JC said, looking directly at Emerson, “how bad can this guy be if he takes in stray dogs and has a parakeet? Nothing about him is fitting here.”

  Martine poked her long, elegant neck around the corner, silky strands of hair framed her face. “Speaking of that bird of his, I can’t figure it. I want to wrap him in a crescent roll and eat him, but something keeps stopping me…”

  “Hector would shit a bunny if he knew you wanted to eat another animal, Martine Adams! I’d control those impulses, if I were you,” JC joked.

  Martine grinned and stuck her tongue out. “I’m just saying he looks tasty. Under normal circumstances and if caviar weren’t shipped to me by Escobar on a regular basis, I might be forced to give in to temptation and it could get ugly.”

  Just then the phone rang, bringing both JC and Emerson back to the situation at hand. Max jumped up to grab it and a smile spread over his face, making him look worry free for the moment. “That’s great news, guys. I’ll pass it on and the troops will be there soon. Did you call Eva? She’ll flip. Okay, see you soon, Xavier.”

  He winked at JC. “Guess who just had a little girl?”

  “Oh! Julia had the baby. A girl… how fabulous!” JC squealed. “But wait. Is it a cat or a dog? And hang on just a second. I was pregnant before Julia! Why did she have a baby in just a few months and my pregnancy just goes on and on like War and Peace?” she asked Max. “It’s not fair, damn it!”

  Max laughed, shuffling her out of the room while JC moaned in between gabbing excitedly. Emerson guessed they were going to prepare for a trip to Manhasset to visit Julia and Xavier and the new baby.

  A little girl.

  Emerson’s heart clutched with just a smidge of envy, but she pushed it aside in favor of the sleuthing that had to be done.

  She had a vampire to catch.

  Chapter Nine

  The Adams house was quiet, too quiet with everyone off seeing Julia and Xavier’s new baby in Manhasset. They’d named her Catalina and, according to JC after her phone call to Emerson, she didn’t appear to be lion or werewolf. The nature of little Catalina’s shifter form might take years to develop.

  Emerson decided one last trip to Lassiter’s in her wolf form was in order. For whatever reason, he seemed to feel comfortable talking to “Princess,” and finding out about this letter was essential to finding out what Lassiter was doing here.

  She didn’t know why it was so important, but it had to be the key to unlock this last door. It was also the key to finding the old Lassiter and that had become as important as stopping him from building the condos.

  She admitted to herself that she hoped Lassiter would take her up on her offer to talk. For old time’s sake, if nothing else.

  Her paws were silent as she crept up the back stairs to Lassiter’s sliding glass door. Again, he was with Bud, talking to him as if he were a human being.

  His dark hair was ruffled and he looked tired, peering at Bud who sat on top of the cage. There was a sheet of paper sprawled out on the kitchen table and it looked well worn. “Well, pal, we got trouble. I don’t know where else to go from here, but I swear to you, we’ll find a way.” His statement was vehement, said with a conviction she saw written all over his face. It was in his body language, tense and rigid.

  Damn it, this was frustrating. A way to what and to whom?

  Focusing her mind on the task at hand, Emerson scratched at the back door.

  The light came on and Lassiter popped open the slider. His smile was again warm and welcoming. If only he looked at her like that when she was in human form.

  Her heart shifted when he knelt down at the opening of the door and put his hand out to her tentatively.

  Emerson let her muzzle rest in his hand for a brief, lingering moment before pushing past him and into the trailer.

  “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” he stated with a degree of smugness in his tone, picking up the bowl from the floor and bringing it to the refrigerator.

  Yeah, bring on the bacon, she thought, admiring his ass from the view she had with his head buried in the fridge.

  “I knew you’d be back. So whatcha been up to?”

  A little of this, a little of that. You know, dog-like shit. Bone burying. Cat chasing. Cuz I’m a dog. An honest to goodness dog and don’t you forget it, vampire.

  Who was she convincing here?

  “I went looking for you the other night. You sure are a quick one. You just disappeared. But it’s okay, I’m glad you came back.” Stooping, he ran his fingers over her back, hand over hand.

  Even in were form it felt damned good. Shaking her head, her ears snapping, she forced herself to stay on task.

  Find the letter.

  No sex.

  In that order and no variation thereof.

  Lassiter tugged at the end of her ear and pulled it upward. “Do your ears bother you? Mites, maybe? I think have something that would help.”

  She let a low growl out to warn him that wasn’t a good idea. Next he’d want to milk her renal glands or something.

  “Okay, not today,” Lassiter acquiesced. “You gonna eat? I can’t figure how you got to be so picky. Strays usually don’t demand human food,” he teased, holding the bowl up under her nose.

  She made a hacking noise, bringing the sound from deep within her throat. Which wasn’t hard, considering he was offering her leftover Hamburger Helper.

  Emerson moved her nose in the other direction, lifting her muzzle to display to him her displeasure at his culinary choices.

  “Wow, Princess, you are picky. But you know what? It’s okay. I went and got you some canned food.” He went to the lower cabinet and pulled out a can of Decadent Dogs.

  How special.

  Oh, yay. Spare no expense for the stray, huh? Emerson decided more exploration was in order, so being the dog she was hoping to portray, she sniffed the floor. Beginning in the kitchen, she worked her way out to the small living room.

  Someone needed to break out the vacuum. Hector’s rabbit could quite possibly mate with the dust bunnies Lassiter had under his couch, thus spawning a litter or two.

  Lassiter followed closely behind her. “Are you looking for that sock? Ya wanna play, Princess?”

  Oh, hell’s bells, spare her from the sock game. She’d be fucked and feathered before she’d put his damned sock in her mouth again.

  It had an aftertaste that lingered unpleasantly.

  “C’mere, pretty. Come sit next to me and let’s talk,” Lassiter coaxed with his cajoling tone and beseeching eyes.

  Talk? Yeah, let’s have a real gab-fest. Hook me up, brotha. Her ears perked and she took her place beside him on the floor where he sprawled out and patted his chest.

  This man’s best friend thing was going too far.

  “C�
�mon, Princess. Come sit with me.” Again, he patted his chest, calling her to him.

  Hookay. Emerson harrumphed and blew out a snort, flopping down on his chest and looking him in the eye.

  Shoot, he was good looking.

  “So, where’d ya run off to the other night? You don’t look like you’re any worse for the wear because of it. As a matter of fact, your coat is so shiny and clean. What shampoo do you use?” he teased, stroking her back.

  Her back foot thumped with a will of its own. Oh, dayuuuuum that was good.

  “You like that?”

  Yes, please, may I have another?

  Her eyelids grew heavy, but as Lassiter prattled on, she fought to stay awake.

  “So, have you given any thought to coming and living with me and Bud? Bud’s a special case too, just like you.”

  Special case? A special case of what? Lunacy?

  “He needs me.”

  Huh?

  Tilting her head to the left, Emerson hoped he saw the confusion in her eyes, cuz he was lookin’ kinda nutty in them.

  “I know, you don’t understand, but Bud is special to me. His real name isn’t even Bud. It’s Drake. He’s my brother.” Lassiter’s handsome face looked into her canine one and he winked.

  Um, yeah. His brother. This vampire was short a bat wing. He thought a bird was his brother.

  He was a fucking bird all right — a loon.

  “It’s a long story, but I have a letter that says so,” he assured her.

  From who? A letter that said Bud was his brother? Who would write a letter like that? The National Pigeons Society for Reunification of Vampires and Their Winged Counterparts? This was just too much.

  It explained everything about this new Lassiter.

  He’d gone mad.

  As much as she missed him, as much as she wished it could be like it once was, it couldn’t. Cuz Lassiter Adams thought his brother was a flippin’ bird, and that was on par with the need for a nice comfy couch and a trained psychiatrist.

  Maybe even medication.

  In large doses.

  But he was so freakin’ cute, even as a complete nut.

  Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a well worn piece of paper. Obviously, he’d fingered it on many occasions. It was the kind you’d use in a spiral notebook, lined and frayed at the ripped edges. “This was from my mother and father. It’s why I’m here, Princess.”

  Oh, oh and oh again. Jackpot!

  Bingo and all the other stuff one yelled when they hit the big one. Come to mama…

  Chapter Ten

  Emerson had two choices. She could wait until Lassiter told her what the letter said, or she could read it herself.

  Seeing as he liked to play sock so much, Emerson decided it was time to play fetch. Snatching the letter deftly from Lassiter’s hands, she ran, down the small hallway and into the even smaller bathroom. With a shove of her nose, she snapped the door shut and dropped the letter on the floor. Her muzzle dropped open and her tongue hung off to the side.

  Lassiter crashed after her, calling to her to bring it back. His body pushed at the door she now leaned up against and Emerson let out a warning snarl.

  Looking down at the letter, her heart skidded to a halt.

  How could this be?

  Losing her focus, she felt the shift back to human form begin and she had no way to stop it. If she lost her train of thought — and the letter had certainly taken her focus off of her werewolf form — she was sunk.

  But Emerson didn’t care. This was too incredible to believe.

  As the fur of her coat melted away and flesh replaced it, tears stung Emerson’s eyes, forming at the corners of them and falling to the cheap linoleum.

  Oh, my God.

  Placing a hand on the worn notepaper, Emerson trembled as she read.

  A parakeet you’ve been these years,

  To protect you from our greatest fears,

  The loss of your brother too much to bear

  We’ve left you in his gentle care.

  To break the spell which we have cast

  You must seek out our distant past.

  Go back to where it all began,

  A place we call Adams land.

  Within its earth you will find

  A drink to help you join vamp-kind.

  The cock that crows at morning’s light

  Will lead you from the dark of night.

  A woman who is strong and true

  Will know the secret that is you.

  Find her on the Adams land

  And carry out our simple plan.

  You will awake at break of dawn,

  All your feathers and little beak gone.

  A family’s love will join you there.

  They’re a strange lot so have a care.

  Emerson’s mind raced, but was thwarted by Lassiter shoving against the door. And she was naked.

  Lovely.

  “Emerson?” he roared, sticking his face through the wedge he’d made in the bathroom door.

  Emerson forgot she was naked. Sliding across the floor, she rose on unsteady legs, clutching the letter in her hands. “All this time, Lassiter. All this time you had this secret and you never told me. Why? We were best friends. I told you everything. Everything!”

  Lassiter glared at her, eyeing her nakedness with anger. “Well, apparently, you didn’t tell me everything, Emerson.”

  Oh, yeah. There was that.

  Yanking a towel from the rack, she tugged it around her. “This is not the same thing and you know it!”

  “You’re a dog, Emerson. It is the same thing.”

  “A werewolf, thank you,” she corrected, backing up against the bathtub until she felt the fiberglass touch her calves.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “You know?” How could he know?

  “Yeah. Now give me the letter, Emerson.” His warning was followed by the tic of his jaw, clenched and angry.

  “Explain it.”

  “Why? So you can call me a meat murderer? An animal killer?”

  “That’s soooo not fair, Lassiter. I had no idea. None and it wasn’t as if you were telling me. So tell me now,” she pleaded.

  “You’re right, but what is fair in this life, Em?” he remarked with dry sarcasm. Tilting her head, Emerson gave him a narrowed look. “Don’t woe is me, Lassiter. You didn’t have to keep this a secret. You didn’t. I would have helped you! I would have helped you figure out whatever the fuck that letter means. Fair? Don’t talk to me about fair, Lassiter Adams.”

  “Give me the letter, Em.”

  “Nope.”

  “Em…”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Don’t make me come get it.”

  “Don’t make me bite you.”

  “Don’t make me bite you back.”

  Oh, sure, threaten her with his big fangs. Nice. “You wanna have werewolf versus vampire? A little trailer park rumble?”

  His eyes opened in surprise.

  “Oh, did you forget? You told the dog and that dog is me, Dracula.”

  “Give me the letter, Emerson,” he growled at her. His face, handsome even in fury, loomed over hers.

  Poking his chest with a finger, she shook her head stubbornly. “Or you’ll what? Bite me? Suck me dry? Bring it, vampire. Let’s do it because I’m not giving you the letter until you tell me what it means. Tell me about the parakeet.”

  “No, Emerson,” he replied coldly.

  And suddenly, she’d had enough. Emerson was tired of denying that she cared about Lassiter. To herself and especially to him. She was tired of pretending he had once been a man capable of great compassion. She was tired of fighting this battle that didn’t just wage in her head, but in her heart. She was tired of telling herself he was inconsequential because she had a cause she so vehemently believed in. And she was sick and tired of spending endless nights, like those of the past ten years, pretending that Lassiter had never existed.

  He did exist.

 
; She wanted to be a part of that existence, but not without his willingness to let all of his secrets go.

  “You know what, Lassiter, this gives you the best excuse ever. You can scurry off to your coffin — do you sleep in one of those? — and hide. Pretending like no one cares about you because it’s easy, you big, damn pale-assed pansy! I’m standing right here, right now, telling you I care about you. I’ve always cared about you, even when you went off and forgot about me for ten years. I’d help you if you’d just let me. But you have to be all secretive and angst ridden. Everything has to be this big drama. It’s such bullshit, Lassiter. Just grow up would you? Grow up and stop making everything so fucking hard.” Her voice had risen now, peaking and swelling in the small bathroom. Her eyes flashed a myriad of emotions. Anger, betrayal and most of all, sadness that they could no longer communicate on the level they once had.

  His silence spoke volumes to her.

  Frustration got the better of her and she shoved his chest hard, knocking him back a step. “Fine. Keep your secrets, Lassiter, and your sad, lonely life, but I’m going to tell the Adams about this. I have to. I don’t know if that letter means you really are an Adams from this Adams family, but it means something and I’m going to tell them.”

  Shouldering her way past him, she grabbed the doorknob, but Lassiter’s hand, large and strong, drew her back to his chest.

  He held her there, pressing her to him. “Wait, Emerson,” he said, his voice unrefined, determined, revealing, making her stay.

  Emerson didn’t know if he wanted her to wait because he was afraid of what she’d tell the Adamses or because he wanted her help. Yet his tone held something so raw, she relaxed a bit against him and took deep breaths of air.

  He gripped her bare shoulders, running his hands over them before turning her in his arms and dragging her to him.

  Her pulse raced and her anger began to subside.

  Lassiter kissed the top of her head, raining kisses along her scalp, moving down to her cheek and, finally, taking her lips in his, sliding his tongue into her mouth with silken skill.

  “No, Lassiter. This can’t be how we solve this…” was her murmured objection, weak and stilted.