Shouldn’t have done it.
The sight before him caused his bladder to release. Half men-half wolves were beating the shit out of his guys.
Bray blinked stupidly, thinking the mirage might go away.
MacKenzie was sobbing, but her jeans were back on as she cowered against the brick wall.
The creatures tossed Jay into the wall, and Bray could hear his neck break.
The wolfmen spoke, but the words were too difficult to make out. Bray didn’t bother because it sounded like a bunch of growling from where he sat.
Earl was running toward Bray.
Holy fuck, that’ll get those weird jagups noticing me. He tried to drag himself behind a dumpster, but Earl started hysterically screaming, “Bray!”
The colossal jackass.
“Bray! We gotta get outta here!”
Yes, thank you so very much for the heads-up, moron.
Bray wasn’t going nowhere. They’d fucked him up with that toss, and now his buddy was making sure those things fixed their attention right on him. Also, his pants, only half on, were fucking up his speed.
He crawled faster but turned as a sudden silence grew. Earl turned around slowly, legs planted wide.
Bray watched the fucking creepers walk toward them like they got all the time in the world. Ya know, he thought, they’re kinda graceful.
When they attacked, it was like a relief.
Bray couldn’t breathe anyway.
The first time the thing whacked Bray in the neck, it felt like a punch. The second time the creature struck him, Bray was so numb, his body jumped from the blow, but he couldn’t register what had happened.
When his throat was gone, he just stared up at their faces. Prominent brow ridges sat above eyes that swirled with silver and gold.
They argued low and fast. Bray didn’t understand.
He was super fucking cold, though, and couldn’t feel his legs or arms.
Then the one who’d hit him bent low over Bray’s body and reared back. When he bit into Bray’s shoulder, his teeth pierced right through Bray’s jacket and flesh.
Bray howled, or tried to, but no sound came from his ruined throat.
Then the thing broke his neck.
“Bray!”
He starts, so deep in the memory of how they became the creatures that murdered them, Bray totally forgot they were standing around with their thumbs up their asses, waiting for the cops to show at the fucked-up restaurant.
Billy’s looking up into his face, and Bray notices the dent is now smooth skin. No one would ever know that Were cunt plowed a box of tampons into his forehead.
For fuck’s sake. “Dumbass,” Bray says, shoving Billy toward the door.
Sirens wail in the distance, and everyone in the fucking diner has had all kinds of time to get a load of Bray and his guys.
What Bray’s thinking is that he wants to find that Were bitch—and kill that mofo with the ugly scarred face. And while he's busy dying, Bray will be banging her to death as that Were watches it all go down.
That fucker was prepared for them. He smelled different too. Bray doesn’t know enough about being a werewolf to know how or what it means, just that he does.
Mr. Scarface could’ve taken on all three of them, and that pisses Bray off. If it wasn’t for his penchant for unfair fighting, that small factoid might give him real pause.
He scowls. And the little bitch smelled like Scarface. He’s fucking her real proper. Doing a bang-up job.
Sneering at the thought, Bray frowns. He’s not sure, but he thought he detected some underlying odor besides her status as Alpha Slut.
But he shrugs, dragging Earl’s stupid ass out the door, along with Billy, who’s in the lead.
Bray will pursue.
Besides, he thinks he’s caught the scent of his kid and that bitch, Jenni—the one who kept him from quick cash, a beat down of Devin, and ultimately, his spawn.
She’s going to pay too.
Bray adjusts his nuts. He knows exactly what he’ll require, and it ain’t cash.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jenni
“You’re a tiny thing,” the werewolf murmurs before dipping his nose into the crook of her neck. Inhaling deeply, he sighs as if just smelling the best banquet smorgasbord ever conceived.
Jenni finds her voice. “Let me go.”
His fingers convulse on her wrists, just shy of causing her pain.
Cocking his head, he says, “Not yet. I am Quillon. Quill for short.”
“I’m Jenni. Now let me go.”
His buddies are on the ground. Well, the one she thwacked in the nuts is down. The other guy she sliced and diced looks like he never got a scratch.
“Are you going to listen? Or try to give our balls another love tap?” A bright-red eyebrow hikes.
Jenni’s pulse speeds, and her hands dampen. She’s not really liking being pinned to the car.
Quillon’s brows meet. “I scent your fear, but we won’t hurt you, female.”
Jenni gulps. She’s not feeling her earlier bravado. Not. At. All. Probably being pressed with a six-and-a-half-foot man with a giant erection parked between them is giving her pause.
“Okay,” she croaks then clears her throat. “Then how come you ruined our tent and came at us like that?”
He leans down close, their noses almost touching. “You going to behave?”
Fine. Jenni nods. She’s not getting any answers this way—it’s turning into a stalemate—and Quillon obviously could’ve hurt her already if he’d wanted to.
“First,” he starts, snapping his hands away from her wrists and retreating two huge strides, “we didn’t shred your tent.”
Jenni rubs her wrists. It doesn’t hurt exactly but it feels like she got too close to a warm fire.
Quillon’s eyes shift to where she’s rubbing, and Jenni stops.
“Then what was it?” She’s smug. Of course they wrecked their tent.
“Black bear,” he replies dismissively.
“Huh?” Devin says, slowly coming around to stand by Jenni’s side, her eyes dancing everywhere at once.
Black bear?
Quillon ignores Devin. “This is a rural area still, though the humans are building it up a lot, and the bear have less and less habitat. They’re in search of easy pickings. Human trash. Food.”
Crouching a little, Quillon peers through the back seat window of the car, probably getting a load of a terrified Ella in the back seat.
“Your whelp?” His black eyes shift to her own, nostrils flaring again.
Whelp? “Ah, no,” Jenni replies swiftly. She and Devin exchange a glance.
“She’s my daughter,” Devin says, then her bottom lip starts to tremble. “Please don’t hurt us—Ella.” She spreads her palms skyward, begging. “We’re not trying to bug anybody. We’re just...” She gives a helpless little shrug, and Jenni knows exactly how she feels.
Quillon’s eyes narrow to ebony slits. “Wait a second.” He shifts that penetrating gaze to Devin, nostrils flaring. “You’re no Were.”
She shakes her head.
His face snaps to Jenni. “Talk.”
Jenni hikes her chin. “I’m not some dog you can order around. You came at us. You haven’t told us who you are and why you’d approach defenseless women like this.”
“What ya are,” Devin mutters.
They both ignore her.
“You’re not defenseless. You’re an Alpha Were, turned by a born Alpha Were. You are nowhere near defenseless.”
Jenni notices when his emotions run high, his eyes become darker, if possible, and begin to slowly revolve. The effect is like vertigo eyeballs.
His nostrils flare a third time as the other two Were join him at his side.
Jenni gages that they’re only three yards from where she and Devin stand now. That makes her nervous. None of the werewolves she’s met have made a decent first impression, them included.
“The whelp is born.” He looks at
Devin. His bright-red eyebrows pop.
She shifts her weight, knotting her hands. “Look, I made a bad call. I got caught up with this guy, and Ella happened.” She looks down at her sneaker-clad feet, and after a few seconds she adds softly, “He didn’t know about her.”
“Now he does?” Quillon asks. “Because a mating between a human and a Were?” Quillon gives a dismissive shrug. “Doesn’t happen much. There’s compatibility issues. Always. So an actual whelp as a result—or half-whelp? Highly rare.” His eyes on Devin, he repeats his earlier question, “So he’s aware now?”
She nods.
“Why does this matter?” Jenni asks, looking from him to the other two werewolves, who are healed and ready for round two. Great.
“Because when a whelp belongs to a male,” he explains slowly, “it’s basic instinct that will drive him to find his offspring. This male will be looking, and we need to prepare for it.”
“Scent her,” he tells the pair of werewolves.
They move toward Devin.
She screams, backing away.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jenni starts to walk in front of Devin.
“Mama!” Ella screams from the back seat.
Jenni yells, “You’re freaking Ella out!”
Quillon steps forward and places his big hand on the handle for the back seat door where Ella just had her nose pressed against the glass.
Jenni pivots, lurching toward him instead—Devin will have to fend for herself. All she can think about is Quillon hurting Ella. His hand blurs out, wrapping her against his body with one arm, imprisoning her. His strength is shocking and she gasps an inhale.
Opening the door, he stares at Ella.
“Oh,” she says after a few seconds, “are you a woof, like Jen-Jen?”
His returning smile is large. “Yes, I am. We are called Were, little one.”
Were, not werewolves. Jenni’s getting an education she’d never dreamed of.
Ella smiles. “I like you.”
His grin flashes in that handsome face. “And I like you. We will not hurt your mother.”
Ella nods. “I know now.” She unbuckles, sitting up in her seat, and hangs over the front seat in the middle. “Mama!”
Devin is still struggling against the Were, and it’s obvious they’re trying not to hurt her.
“It’s okay, Mama.” She smiles again at Quillon, and he nods. “This woof is trying to help.”
Out of the mouth of babes.
Devin stops struggling as Jenni stares at all this rolling out before her, hating herself for being an ineffective protector.
Together, they lean in like twins, burying their noses at her neck. Devin whimpers. Jenni can’t blame her.
They’ve seen some scary things in the last three days, and they’re all on mental overload about now. Except Ella. She’s taking all the weirdness in stride.
They lean back as though they’re synchronized dancers. One of the men gives a curt nod in Quillon’s direction. He also has red hair, but unlike Quillon’s, it’s the deepest auburn Jenni’s ever seen. In fact, if it weren’t broad daylight, Jenni might have thought the color was brown.
Quillon backs away from the car, hanging his head and pegging his large hands on his hips. “Great.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted, Quill?” the other red-headed guy asks.
“Quiet, Dare.”
“Dare?” Jenni says. Weird names, all of them.
Of course, werewolves/Were names are the least of her worries at the moment.
They let Devin go. and she races to get to Ella. Crawling across the seat, she grabs the little girl, and Ella winds her legs around Devin’s waist. “Just tell us what in the hell is going on.” Her voice shakes in fear.
Quillon looks up. “This is Darian. He goes by Dare.”
The auburn-haired guy flashes a small salute.
“And my packmate you nailed in the balls is Sebastian.” Quillon gives a wry smile.
Folding his arms, Sebastian says nothing.
Jenni quickly looks away. They got off on the wrong foot.
Or testicle.
A wild bubble of laughter erupts inside her, and Jenni can’t tamp it down. And once the giggle breaks loose, a gale of laughter pours out.
“You piss me off, female,” Sebastian says, giving her a brooding scowl.
“I’m sorry,” Jenni gasps. “Comedic relief, so sue me.” Her life is just too surreal right now.
“We haven’t had very much to laugh about,” Devin admits, giving Jenni a clear “shut up” look.
Finally, Jenni calms down.
“That wasn’t very nice, Jen-Jen,” Ella announces.
Ella’s right. Jenni hiccups back another giggle, and Sebastian glares at her.
“Is this male—where is he?” Quillon asks suddenly.
“He’s up in Port Townsend.”
Quillon cups his chin. “There’s only one decision to be made.”
“What decision?” Jenny says indignantly. “I make my own decisions. And so does Devin.”
He smiles, his large dark eyes pinning her like a science experiment to a board. “You don’t understand, female. You smell wonderful, and you’re also clearly unaware of what it is to be an Alpha Were, Jenni,” he says, using her name like a slap to her face.
“You’re right, Quill,” she slings right back, striding to where he stands and getting up in his personal space. “I didn’t ask for any of this. Three days ago, I was a nurse dying of terminal cancer, then this werewolf stuff”—she skims her palm down the front of her body—“happens... and poof! I’m some mythical creature with people I’m responsible for and a crazy drugged-up werewolf on our ass.”
“Drugged?” he quizzes.
Oh, let’s concentrate on that. Holy shit. Quillon asks about the drugs after her diatribe. He keys in on Bray the Drug Addict. Nice.
Jenni leans back, crossing her arms underneath her boobs. “Yeah. Just ignore what my stressed-out existence has been and let’s ruminate on Bray and his drug habits.” She snorts.
Devin makes a small sound of distress from behind her.
“Sorry, Devin,” Jenni says.
“No big. Bray’s a huge douche.”
“Is that a bad word, Mama?”
Dare hides a smile.
Devin frowns at him. “Definitely.”
“You’re sure cussing a lot, Mama.”
She nods. “Yup, it’s a cussing kind of last few days.”
Agreed, Jenny thinks.
“This isn’t just about you, Jenni.” Quillon says. “You’re more important than your past. Or circumstances that have already occurred and I can’t change. All we can work with right now is that you’re a female Alpha Were who’s freshly turned and knows less than nothing, while a male pursues you for his whelp and probably”—he nets Dare and Sebastian in a knowing look—“revenge.”
Jenni can only shake her head at his words. “Why would Bray care about me?” She glances at Ella. “Maybe his child, but not me.”
“Did you hurt him?”
Oops. Yeah.
“She really did.” Devin answers for her. “It was a special kind of awesome.”
Quillon nods as if he suspected this was the case. “That will make him doubly intent on getting to you.”
“Isn’t it easier just to forget about us and go back to robbing and being a loser?” Jenni asks.
Devin laughs.
“No.” Quillon states. “For a human, it would be the path of least resistance. But for a Were, having an unclaimed offspring and being bested by a female...”
“He must be turned.” Dare shakes his head. “Most born males will not hurt females. Even human females.”
Devin frowns at Dare. “Well, thanks for that. Like being a human female is somehow lesser.”
“It is,” Sebastian says.
Jenni’s exhale is pure anger. “You are so not ingratiating yourself about now.”
Ella’s small forehead pucker
s. “What does that mean, Jen-Jen?”
“It means that everything he’s saying is pissing me off.”
A low growl sounds from Sebastian. “I am speaking hard truths, female. Absolute ones. I cannot help it if you are ignorant of them. That is not my issue.” He sweeps a hand through his longish dark hair, throwing it off his forehead while continuing to stare daggers at her.
Jenni’s already been through hell. A few dirty looks aren’t going to move her.
Quillon lifts his palm, and she focuses on him. “We need to move to a more private and secure location. These are not discussions for the uninitiated. We’re lucky that no one is here. Middle of the week, all the human kiddos are in school. Lucky.”
Sebastian and Dare mutter their assent.
“I haven’t decided anything about this yet. And I don’t know if we should go anywhere with you.” Jenny digs in her mental heels.
Quillon walks to her, eating the distance she’s established. Quillon’s large hands land on her shoulders with a feather’s touch, which causes Jenni’s heart rate to tick faster. “Would you stay with a ruined tent and wait for the tender attention of Bray?” He plucks that bastard’s name out of thin air from a mention in passing.
Quillon is no dumbass.
Of course, neither is Jenni. She will not be pushed. But she’s not stupid, either. It wasn’t just Bray, of course. It’s also his two buddies.
“What guarantees do we have that you three big bucks aren’t going to just keep us prisoner when we go off with you?”
Quillon straightens, his hands sliding down her arms, and a ripple of gooseflesh erupts, trailing his touch. “None, but the alternative sounds worse. What you do know is your tent is no longer viable housing.” The corners of his mouth twitch. “And Bray sounds like he means business. Of the violent persuasion.”
He’s right, of course, which makes Jenni sort of irritated on principle.
Ella slides down Devin’s front and walks over to Jenni, looking up at Jenni with all the perfect earnestness of a child. “This woof will take care of us, Jen-Jen. He’s a good woof.” She blinks her large brown eyes up at Jenni.
Jenni’s not so sure about how good of a woof Quillon is. But one thing she knows is he’s a better option than sticking around for Bray to show up—because Jenni doesn’t have to speculate very hard about what Bray will do when he finds her.
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