Weremones

by Buffi Becraft-Woodall

  Mack swallowed visibly. He met Adam’s eyes with careful determination. His voice modulated low and as unthreatening as possible.

  “She belonged to someone, Adam. We both know that.”

  “Back off, Mack.”

  Adam got in and pulled the door shut. He cranked the car. When Mack showed no sign of turning around, he rolled down the window.

  “I mean it.” He warned. “Let it go.”

  Please. Adam begged silently. Don’t bring the Wolven Council’s notice back to me. If you value your humanity, don’t make me bite you to rein you in.

  ———

  Mack Spencer stepped back two paces and watched the car drive away. He said a small prayer to fortify himself for the coming battle just as he used to do while still in the service.

  Adam Weis might not want his help, or believe that the little dead wolf found in the dumpster would be his problem. Too bad.

  Mack hadn’t survived the secret, and not so secret hot spots, of the world to let a werewolf with baggage brush him off.

  Mack believed in instinct and the foretelling. He had to. Both gifts had saved his life on more than one occasion. To be truthful, his gifts had saved his ass on a hell of a lot of occasions.

  Now his gifts told him to stick closer to his werewolf buddy than a tick. So what if Adam didn’t want any inferior human help! If Mack had listened to wolven rhetoric instead of his own gut instincts then Adam would have died in that fire instead of that mangy bastard Garrick. And the boys ….

  That made the big man shudder. Night after night he’d had dreams of monsters right out of the movies. Never before had his gifts left him so raw. He’d wake from dream visions in the middle of the night, feeling helpless because he couldn’t protect them before the monsters hurt them again.

  When he’d finally had enough, Mack had resigned his place in the military, a job he loved. He’d tracked the nightmare to Palestine, a town he’d never heard of. He’d turned his back on his own people to travel to this place. Here he found something worth protecting.

  He didn’t care if Adam Weis, Canis Pater of the Anderson County wolven pack, got his tail in a bunch. Mack Spencer had given up everything and traveled halfway across the globe to protect those boys, and no one was going to get in his way.

  Chapter Three

  Diana Ridley sat and admired her hosts’ kitchen, beautiful and airy with the latest in stainless steel appliances, while the boys plied her with coffee and junk food for breakfast. Underneath the table, two huge dogs explained her sudden nightmare about werewolves.

  Nightmare. Right.

  When asked what type they were, Bradley replied, “Mixed.”

  He exchanged an odd look with his brother, who refilled Diana’s cup.

  The dogs looked like some sort of husky-wolf mix. One was lean with coarse black hair. The other, a smaller, but by no means small, a reddish brown. Both animals’ eyes were expressive and intelligent. She’d have sworn they were part of her nightmare, except these sweet animals parked themselves by her feet.

  The black one lay with his head in her lap, half asleep while she stroked his sensitive ears. The other one confiscated her foot to lie on. Every so often he would give her bare ankle a doggie kiss.

  Between the dogs, her hosts, and waiting for her car, Diana tried not to dwell on the fact that Matthew, her son, had decided this morning to pack a bag and stay at his dad’s. Without contacting her. Karen, the younger sister, had reluctantly divulged the news to her mother when she called. Diana had no clue how to deal with the problem.

  She smiled and refocused her attention on her young host’s tale of skateboarding down Rollercoaster Road like he was the first one to discover the high hill. She remembered Rollercoaster Road from her own teenage years. She doubted anyone bothered to remember the street’s real name.

  “It was a wicked ride. Ya’ know?”

  His arms looped and waved, mimicking the wild ride while he sat atop the kitchen island, tennis shoes drumming against the golden beaded panel. Diana wanted to cringe at the abuse on the beautiful wood.

  “I wouldn’t a fell off that last time if Seth didn’t chicken out by the cemetery. Everybody knows there ain’t really ghosts there.”

  The black dog woofed. He sat up straight and stared at Mark. The blond boy stuck his hands under his armpits and clucked at the animal.

  “Chicken-Boo! Chicken-Boo!”

  Diana’s mouth dropped as the dog barked at Mark.

  “Cut it out.” Bradley hollered over the noise.

  “Scairdy Seth! Baaawk! Baaawk! Baaawk! Seth is a scairdy!”

  “Bark! Bark! Bark!”

  Diana watched in horror as the dog lunged for the boy. The dog’s teeth bared. She screamed as the big dog hit the boy center chest.

  Diana’s adrenaline rushed as she dived for the melee. Strong arms wrapped around her, stopping her. Bradley held her tight while dog and boy rolled across the kitchen floor, knocking into a chair.

  Heated emotions charged the air, the dog’s anger and Mark’s arrogance, burning past her nonexistent defenses.

  “He’s going to hurt him!”

  Diana wiggled against the boy’s iron grip. The growling, snarling combat went unseen behind the counter. A bright smear of blood on the floor pointed out the fight path in gruesome color.

  “Hurt, yeah. Probably. Kill, no.”

  Bradley’s answer shocked her. His voice bellowed into the kitchen.

  “I said cut it out! Now!”

  Silence reigned.

  Behind the kitchen bar, a dark-skinned hand palmed the counter, braced to lift an equally dark face into sight. Short, curly hair was cut close to the boy’s head in a wiry mat that he rubbed with the opposite hand. A smear of blood shone darker against his skin, a wet shine smeared from nose to cheek.

  The boy’s bare skinny chest was marred with deep bloody scratches.

  Mark emerged equally bloody. He glared at the other boy, his face oddly distorted.

  Realization set in. Diana gasped, drawing Mark’s attention. Acceptance and horror coagulated in her stomach. She pulled free and stared around the room. Brandon sat under the table beside the other dog.

  As she watched, the brown dog blurred, shifting into a naked brown-skinned Hispanic boy. He gave an all over body shake and winked. His brown eyes gleamed red.

  “Hey, Miz Ridley. Are you really going to make Mark’s birthday cake?”

  Diana felt raw with emotion. She felt the sudden urge to get out of Dodge. Fast.

  She gave a hysterical little laugh and sidled to the little French kitchen door, wrenching it open. She aimed for the large wooden gate in the tall wood privacy fence.

  Darting out, a solid wall of flesh and man blocked her escape. Strong, muscled arms steadied her.

  Dazed, Diana stared up, mesmerized. He leaned closer, invading her personal space. His face was a study of square chiseled planes, honed to perfection. Thick, fringed, lashes, darker than his hair, framed his intense eyes. Husky colored eyes, blue with a dark ring around the iris, bored into her. His mouth was a strong, sensual slash. A stubborn cleft dented his chin. Pale blond hair brushed the tops of his shoulders.

  The man of her dreams, ah, nightmare.

  The big man’s nostrils flared as he sniffed the air near her neck, carefully sidling his big body closer. Heat radiated from his body, warming her front.

  His lingering aggravation and startled confusion at her running into him stirred inside her mind. He cocked his head and smiled.

  Diana felt other, dark and lusty emotions stirring in him, as well. Or was that in her?

  The corners of his incredible mouth tilted up in a very sure, male smile.

  Licking her lips, she fought for a measure of control over her traitorous mind and body. The man focused on the movement, intent and hungry. Her entire body hummed in anticipation. She swayed into his hot, overheated frame.

  When he met her eyes again, a predator stared out at her, more than a mere man. />
  Diana blinked, confused. Her instincts screamed several conflicting orders.

  Run. Hide. Stay. For God’s sake—jump the man’s bones!

  The man appeared as mesmerized as she was. He didn’t blink. He stared with those wild blue eyes. Slowly he cupped her cheek.

  The rough pads of his fingers brushed down, following her cheekbone. Gently, he traced the line of her lips, chin and neck. His big hand found a home around the nape of her neck.

  Diana stared transfixed. Would he kiss her? Should she let him?

  The time was long past the part where Diana should panic. No man ever got this close. Not since divorcing Richard the Dick.

  Her numb mind processed that this must be Adam. The growl/whine, he made as he leaned down, brought Diana to her senses.

  Werewolf! Monster! Determination shot through her. She exploded into a fury of motion.

  The man, creature, howled and doubled over, clutching his privates.

  A knee to the groin could down even a werewolf. Processing that information, she snatched her keys from where they landed at his feet.

  The blue Cavalier sat in the driveway, an invitation from God. She scrambled inside and slammed the door.

  Her beautiful blue chariot cranked on the first try.

  Jerking the gear into reverse, she gunned the engine, uncaring of the possibility of traffic. She yanked the wheel to the side, pulled onto the road, and shoved the gear into drive. She floored the gas pedal. Tires squealed and Diana was gone.

  Chapter Four

  In a pain-filled haze, Adam listened to the car race away.

  That could have been handled better. God, what an understatement.

  He suppressed the need to moan and cup his nuts. Tears pricked the back of his eyelids. He rose to his feet and sucked in a breath. Carefully, he made his way into the house.

  Outside the door, he growled at Bradley. Speech was beyond him. The boy diverted his wide-eyed stare and moved out of the way. Inside, the rest of the boys waited in various states of bloody undress.

  Adam fought the urge to lash out, or show his disappointment. This was one more disaster in a series of disasters. He should never have left the female with the boys. He hadn’t planned on being gone for more than an hour. He’d trusted the oldest ones, Bradley and Brandon, to keep a level head.

  The joke was on him to think that they’d be doing chores and homework. No doubt the younger boys had forced their chores on Brandon, the pack omega, in Adam’s absence. He didn’t agree that the lowest ranking wolf should be the one to get dumped on. But he was fighting a battle with nature and general teenage laziness. At times he despaired of teaching them any kind of responsibility at all.

  A terrible nostalgia for his old pack and the freedom from his dubious parenting responsibilities gripped him. Sometimes, he felt like he had avenged his fiancée, Amanda and his reward was exile here in a small nothing town to parent a litter of unruly pups, not alpha to a pack of wolven.

  He didn’t understand why Paul wouldn’t accept the pups into the Tarrant Pack.

  They needed help that Adam couldn’t give them. They needed an alpha female. Or better yet, a pack mother, a Matra Canis.

  Oh yeah, this was shaping up to be one hell of a day. Guilt at his selfishness hung like a monkey on his back, combining with the ache in his nuts.

  In the kitchen, Adam found Mark bouncing on the toes of his basketball shoes.

  The blond boy’s face was smeared with blood and tight with worry. Behind him, Seth, naked as the day he’d been birthed and probably just as bloody, mirrored Mark’s expression. Looking for a snack to tide over a growing wolven’s high metabolism, Rick’s skinny bare butt stuck out of the open refrigerator. He looked up at Adam and shut the door, leaning against it with solemn expectancy.

  Mingled scents of fear and guilt permeated the room.

  Adam knew Brandon hid, silent and still as a mouse, under the table. He ignored the boy, knowing from experience that Brandon lived in terror of drawing his alpha’s attention. Poor kid. Garrick, the former alpha, brutalized and molested the kid. Another very good reason that the bastard was dead by Adam’s hand.

  He didn’t blame the boy for his fear. He wished he knew how to reach past the victim to the wolf inside. Adam had his own fear of doing more harm than good to the already damaged boy.

  He felt every bit of the weight from those brown eyes today as he did that first time, finding Brandon bloody and broken in that locked basement after Garrick had done with him. The grisly trophy of Amanda’s pelt was nailed to the wall. More than a year later, Adam still had trouble distancing from the images. It made him physically ill. Fury rolled into his gut and he wanted to kill the bastard again. A lot slower this time around.

  Bradley crossed Adam’s path to stand in front of and almost between the table and the two bloody boys. He faced his alpha with a healthy dose of subordinate respect and a tinge of fear. The fear, Adam would have happily done without.

  Adam rubbed a hand over his face. He hated this. Instinct, to show no weakness to the others, had him channeling his own doubts into aggravation. And he was more than a little aggravated. At everything.

  Pack members did not cringe in terror in front of his old Canis, Paul Sheppard, waiting for the alpha to tear into them with teeth and claws. Well, not without good reason. Over the years there had been a few occasions where heavy discipline was necessary. Yet within the Tarrant Pack, there was more love than fear for the Canis.

  Adam pinned Bradley with a stern gaze.

  “I left you in charge. Go wait in my office and we’ll talk about what happened here.”

  The boy’s shoulders wilted but straightened again. He turned and marched out of the kitchen, a condemned prisoner on his way to the electric chair.

  Adam followed. He paused in the doorway. The scent of fear rising in the room, as the boys waited for him to blow his top, pissed him off more.

  When would they get it? He wasn’t their old Alpha. He didn’t hurt children. Until they learned, though, Adam was going to pay for the sins of his predecessor.

  Adam sighed. He leaned a forearm against the doorjamb without looking back.

  “Brandon, get out from under the table. You’re not a dog.”

  Ignoring the scramble of action behind his turned back, Adam straightened his shoulders and headed for his office to hear Bradley’s confession.

  ———

  “Sooo, wha-da-ya think? Is Mr. Weis hot or what?”

  Diana’s reprieve was over once Karen slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the robe draped door, fanning her face with a hand.

  There was a law somewhere that automatically revoked a woman’s privacy once she had a daughter, especially once that daughter turned into a teenager. Diana watched Karen slide down and park her butt on the floor. The teen’s eyes glazed over with adulation.

  Diana snorted and drew the curtain closed against Karen’s chatty teasing. At least she hoped that was all her daughter’s interest in Adam Weis entailed. Inverted Celtic shapes, fairies, unicorns, and other mythical creatures on a sky blue background blocked her view of Karen’s expression.

  “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t exactly stay long enough to ogle him.”

  Liar. She’d done plenty of ogling. Then she’d run like a scared rabbit.

  Diana’s stomach muscles tightened. Behind the shower curtain where Karen couldn’t see, she ran a finger over the slight roll in her belly. Like a man, or a sexy werehunk like Adam Weis, would be interested in a single mom nearing middle age with the ability to soak up other people’s emotions like a sponge.

  She’d gone stark raving loony when she’d bumped into her tall blond knight in sweatpants. By the time she’d pulled into her own driveway, Diana had decided she’d acted like an idiot. Whatever he was, he’d definitely rescued her last night.

  She had a lot of the details muddled. But she clearly remembered the coyotes’ bloodlust. Diana was reasonably su
re those coyotes weren’t normal. Then there were the two wolves that had leaped over her. Which two boys had interceded for her?

  “You’ve met Adam Weis?”

  Diana pulled back the curtain to look at her daughter. Her nerves skittered at the thought of her pretty, innocent daughter involved with a group of werewolves. Or was that a pack?

  Okay, Diana was sure her daughter wasn’t quite as innocent as she wanted to believe. But hey, sometimes a mom had to go with the fantasy or go insane with worry.

  “Uh-huh.” Karen nodded her head. “I see him in the school office sometimes. He’s, like, a foster dad to the guys. Remember how they used to come over?”

  Karen had the optimistic cheerfulness and sexy athleticism required of all cheerleaders her age. She bounced up gracefully to stand. Her curly ponytail danced with the motion.

  “Yeah. Neat.” Diana agreed in a flat voice. “I remember them.”

  Watching Rick change from a wolf to a boy wasn’t something she was likely to forget anytime soon. She’d thought they were dogs? Diana frowned at her own naiveté.

  Pouring shower gel onto the squishy scrubber, she squeezed the thing until suds overflowed her hands.

  “Bradley, Brandon, Mark, Seth, and Rick. You used to drag them home for dinner nearly every night. That’s kind of hard to forget.”

  “Uh-huh.” Karen’s cheerful tone faltered. She picked backup her perky tone again. “The football coach says that he wishes he had those boys on the team.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Bradley and Brandon.” Karen picked up the nail pick from the silver vanity tray of colorful polishes and fingernail files. “Bradley, definitely. Our school would go all the way if he was team captain.”

  Diana didn’t doubt it. Bradley Starr was one intense kid and the uncontested leader of the little group that had hung out at her house. She wondered how Adam Weis fit into the group dynamics. There was bound to be some friction between a new father figure in the house and a teenage boy feeling his way to manhood. That was something Diana knew a little about.

  “So, why don’t they play football? I imagine they’d be good.”