Weremones

by Buffi Becraft-Woodall

  Bob had been fabulous company, but there’d been no spark. He knew it and so did she. After a very nice dinner at the Coffee Landing in Coffee City they’d driven back to Palestine. The company had been pleasant enough, but there was no attraction.

  Bob wasn’t broad shouldered enough. He didn’t gaze at her with hunger in his eyes. She felt cold in his presence. He couldn’t compete with the hot hunk of werewolf, Adam Weis.

  Bob and Diana had stopped in town for a beer and more chitchat rather than going home. Both knew without saying that they wouldn’t be going out again.

  She wasn’t about to stroke Adam’s ego with the knowledge. He was the type of alpha male that could run a woman over. The type that men like her ex, The Dick, only wished they could be. “Adam, no. You are making this hard.”

  He chuckled in her ear. His hand drifted up and down her back following the shivers he put there.

  “No, you’re the one making it hard.”

  He pressed the noticeable bulge in his jeans against her, pointing out his double entendre.

  “Arrrgh.” The man was sooo frustrating. So dense. “You are such a man.”

  He laughed again. “It’s about time you noticed. Let’s go and I’ll show you exactly how much.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Dammit.” The man was a jerk, bringing out the worst in her. She hardly ever cursed, yet every time she got around him she ended up loosing it. “I am not going anywhere with you. Especially, after what you did last night. I’m very upset at you.”

  He peered into her face, one eyebrow raised in question. “Mad at me? For giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever had? Honey, let me tell you, that wasn’t even my best.”

  She turned bright red, her face and chest mottling under the fractured light of the mirror ball. “No.” she hissed. “For almost attacking Matthew.” Her voice rose to lecture quality. “Anyone who messes with my kids, messes with me. I don’t take kindly to violence of any kind, Rover.”

  “Rover?” His booming laugh drew the envious gazes of several of the twostepping cowgirls.

  “Yeah, as in, all men are dogs. And you’re the worst.”

  “Babe, for the record. I’m always in control. In no way was your son in any danger.” He danced them in a tight circle. “I’ve never raised hand, paw, or claw, to an innocent. I don’t plan to start.” He flashed a roguish dimpled grin. “Besides, my dad would come loaded for bigger game than bear. And believe me, he’s a damn good shot.”

  Diana let that bit of information digest, then tried to wriggle away. She spotted Bob watching them, concern darkening his face.

  Diana panicked as Bob set down his beer and started their way. Belatedly, she realized that she and Adam had been out on the floor for several songs.

  She pushed at his chest.

  “Let go. I have to go to the restroom.” And she did too. He watched her, suspicion in his wild blue eyes. Diana ducked through the crowd, avoiding Bob.

  She needed a moment to figure out how to deal with this situation. She passed under the neon sign blinking the word, Cowgirls, in hot pink and darted into a stall.

  Alone at last.

  Tottering forward on her three-inch heels, she steadied a hand against the stall in an eeek moment. She’d left Bob, an accountant, to deal with a possessive werewolf. Now that was smart.

  A grumbling line outside drove Diana from her sanctuary. Washing her hands, she stalled, using the damp paper towel to cool her cheeks. She prayed for some sanity.

  Well, there really was nothing to do about it. She wasn’t going to be rude and leave Bob in the lurch. It had been a nice date and she’d end it that way. She’d march out there, collect Bob, and go home. Easy, right?

  Right.

  Hopefully, the bouncers were paid up on their health insurance policies. Heck, in this area, the poor men were lucky if they had health insurance.

  Anyway, she wasn’t going to let some howling at the moon son of a gun order her around.

  Good grief, she was beginning to sound like a country and western song.

  Diana squared her shoulders. She took a deep, fortifying breath. She pasted on a smile and exited the ladies, er, cowgirl-room.

  Underneath the blow-up beer bottle, Adam and Bob stood side by side. Both men’s arms were crossed over their chests, though, Adam’s stance was the more impressive of the two. He wore a smug expression, while Bob looked pained and upset.

  Lovely, she thought, abso-frigging lovely. Diana crossed her arms, as well, and faced Adam with a pointed stare, using the same tone of voice reserved for stubborn children. “Goodnight.”

  He had the audacity to smirk. Diana began to fume.

  “I’m not really sure what’s going on here.” Bob cleared his throat and shot a glance at Adam. “But I don’t like feeling used.”

  “What?” Diana wrinkled her brow? What had he done now?

  “What I mean is, that I don’t think its right for you to be going out with one man while you’re engaged to another.”

  Diana gasped. “Engaged?”

  On the heels of shock came full-blown fury.

  Her fingers curled around the forty-dollar manicure she’d splurged for her date with Bob. She raised them in Adam’s direction, unconsciously mimicking claws.

  “Engaged?”

  Her voice rose. She didn’t care who heard. Maybe the bouncers would throw Adam out on his big fat hairy backside.

  “You!” She jabbed one silvery tipped finger in the troublemaker’s direction. “So help me God I’m going to make a rug out of your hide.”

  Make a rug out of him? Adam grinned, just to piss her off more. When they were mated properly, he’d have a fine of a time teasing her.

  Their pups would be a living terror. He grinned wider, imagining a house full of loud rambunctious youngsters, both two and four footed, and a pack that laughed and loved.

  Diana’s angry growls amused the hell out of him. Wielding her painted nails as if they were claws that could rip through metal was cute.

  “Laugh it up while you have the chance, Fuzzball.”

  Peripherally, Adam kept tabs on the bouncers, who were edging closer, attracted by the scene they were making. Or rather the scene his quiet proper, mate-to-be, was making.

  “I ... uh ... don’t want to get in the middle of some lover’s quarrel,” Bob began, trying for a soothing voice to calm Diana.

  It didn’t work.

  “Then don’t.” Adam didn’t bother looking at the human.

  “Lovers!” Diana burst out.

  “But, she came with me, so I’ll take her home.” The edge in Bob’s tone made Adam glance over.

  He’d dismissed the schmuck as a minor irritation. But now, apparently ol’ Bob wanted to play in the big league. Adam was a fair man. But he didn’t plan to tolerate any other male making moves on his chosen female. The instinct to protect her was paramount, especially now, before the mating ceremony was complete.

  Until she used her psychic abilities to finish the mate-bond, the possibility of another male claiming her attentions was very real. She could complete the bond with a normal like Bob or another psychic.

  “Back off while you still have the chance, little man.” Adam curled his lip into a sneer. “She belongs to me.”

  Bob pulled himself up straight, reaching for one of his shirt cuffs. Finding it already folded up to his forearm, he twitched it straight and crossed his arms again.

  “Well, since she came in my car, I’d say she’s my date.”

  One of the bouncers discreetly moved into Adam’s vision. The warning was clear.

  Another bouncer drifted closer, alert for any real trouble they might cause.

  The first bouncer, a decent sized human, dressed in long sleeves despite the heat both outside and from the press of bodies inside the bar, offered a good ol’boy smile.

  “Why don’t you guys cool down or take it outside?”

  Diana shot a glare at her date. “I think we need to leave, Bo
b.”

  “Good idea, Bob,” Adam drawled. “Go home, Bob, before you get hurt.”

  He knew he shouldn’t egg the guy on. But damn, she wasn’t supposed to be looking at the other man that way. She should be tucked under his arm, her sultry brown gaze staring up into his face with admiration.

  Bob’s chest puffed under his button down dress shirt. Anger rolled of the human in waves.

  “I’ll show you hurt.” He headed for the door, pausing to look over his shoulder at Adam. “You coming or not?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Adam sauntered after him, the bouncers providing a discreet escort.

  “Wait!”

  Remembering the night before, Diana rushed to catch up. She grasped the back of Adam’s shirt and was pulled along.

  “Don’t you dare hurt him. I mean it.”

  Ever so carefully, Adam detached the female. His strong hands gripped her shoulder. He gave her a feral smile, dark, dangerous, and all the more sinister for his pale coloring.

  “It’s too late for that, Darlin’. Wait here while I deal with your knight in a starched shirt.”

  With that, he exited the saloon. Diana could feel the other patrons’ eyes boring into her back.

  She flushed, mortified. She never drew attention to herself. Drat that werewolf!

  Well, she wasn’t going to stand in the middle of a smoke filled bar while everyone listened to second rate country music and speculated about her personal life.

  Diana marched to the exit and pushed the door open enough to slip through to see the fight.

  Outside, her eyes widened. The spotlight provided by the parking lot floodlight illuminated the accountant and the werewolf.

  Who knew Bob could move like that? Huh. An accountant with a black belt. It even made sense, in a Clark Kent/Superman kind of way.

  Too bad Bob didn’t have the super speed and stuff he’d need against a werewolf.

  Adam was predatory grace, toying with his prey. He avoided Bob’s well placed punches, easily sidestepping each attack.

  In a blur, Adam’s fist shot out, connecting with Bob’s shoulder with a solid sound. Bob stumbled back. He shifted his feet and moved into a smooth defensive stance.

  Diana released a breath. She should have known that Adam wouldn’t kill a human. With his supernatural speed and strength, he could have already ripped Bob’s arm’s off and beat him with them.

  Reaching out to Adam through the pack bond, Diana found a solid stonewall. No emotion. He was all calm control, centered completely on the task at hand.

  She shook her head in an effort to clear her own mixed emotions.

  Since, there was no more danger to Bob than his ego being trounced, both of them could do the testosterone tango together. Bob was as guilty as Adam. She wasn’t some damsel to wait in the wings for the winner to carry her off to his cave.

  Ugh. Neanderthal jerks.

  Chapter Twelve

  Disgusted, Diana used the distraction of the fight to slip away into the shadows of the trees. Behind the saloon, she crossed a picturesque little bridge and headed for the street.

  She realized that Adam was going to come after her when he was finished humiliating Bob. Right now she was so furious that she didn’t want to speak with either of them. What she needed was a way to hide from Adam’s super senses.

  Well, she was a psychic wasn’t she? Maybe she could do more than feel other people’s emotional garbage. She’d never tried. Mostly, Diana focused her attention on suppressing her abilities, not exploring them. Now seemed like as good time as any to try something new.

  Diana thought about the witch that had come to place protection spells around her house. She had paid special attention to making Diana unnoticed to supernaturals while at home.

  Think, think, think.

  Diana tapped her fingernails against her forehead in the effort to drag the information to the front of her brain. What had the witch said about how they detect psychics?

  Ah-ha! Scent. This should have been a no-brainer considering she was trying to avoid a werewolf.

  Diana took a deep breath and went through her mind clearing exercises. She envisioned a bank of mist surrounding her, flowing from her chi, using the natural energies of her body to erase the evidence of her passing.

  Doubts whispered the impossibility of what she tried. No one could erase her scent. She squished the thought. Doubt ensured failure.

  Using her body as a starting point, and working outward, she dissipated the molecules that connected to her into nothing.

  Diana held the images in her mind while she dug out her phone, intending to call home. She’d get Karen to pick her up in the car. She stared at the phone in amazement.

  She pushed the On button again. The screen stayed blank. The stupid thing was dead!

  Diana disdained cell phones. She paid a couple of hundred dollars to keep one of those pay as you go thingies active for a year. She didn’t waste the time on it for trivial things, like calling to find out what kind of ice cream the kids wanted from the store. She didn’t really have a use for it, except for emergencies, where she kept it stowed away in the car with its charger.

  Lovely. So much for the emergency cell phone.

  Diana sucked in a calming breath. No problem. She’d walk over to the supermarket and use the pay phone. Then, Karen would come and get her.

  She double stepped over the iron and wood footbridge and across the lawn to the buckled sidewalk as fast as the three-inch torture devices on her feet would allow.

  At the corner, Diana took a breath. She lifted her hand to the stop sign for support.

  Note to self: Never ever wear three-inch heals while taking a midnight run.

  It wasn’t actually midnight, but without streetlights it was dark enough not to quibble over semantics.

  The roaring engine of a motorcycle caught the breath in her throat. The blending of more of its brethren made her gut clench.

  “Damn,” she whispered.

  Frantically, Diana looked around. Should she hide?

  To an average small town bred and raised girl, the sound of a motorcycle meant one of two things. Number one, Elvis, James Dean, and every other sexy bad boy to come across a movie screen. Number two, the villains out of a low budget seventies movie.

  Your basic pirates on wheels, doing the raping and pillaging thing before the small town sheriff takes care of things.

  Diana sucked in another breath and decided to go for it. The supermarket was only a block away. She hopped off of the curb and darted to cross the road, tripped and sprawled on the pavement.

  Three headlights found her. She tried to stand, only to have her ankle give way beneath.

  “Owww.”

  The motorcycles stopped in a loose circle around her.

  “Well, what do we have here?”

  Diana blinked in the bright glare of the headlights. She couldn’t see, save for the dark silhouettes of some very large men straddling their motorcycles.

  A mix of danger and curiosity emanated from the trio.

  Diana swallowed, hating the way her voice squeaked out.

  “Sorry, I tripped. I’ll move out of your way.”

  Another of the bikers laughed, a hoarse choking sound that skittered down her spine.

  Diana felt like a trapped animal while she struggled to her feet, staring at the hunter. Only one leg supported her weight.

  “Dog. Looks like you pegged a lady.” One of the silhouettes said to the first biker who’d spoken to her.

  “Need a lift?” Asked the one named Dog.

  She choked on exhaust while her senses filled with the tainted flavors of lust and hunger. The need to hunt.

  Either because of her psychic abilities or familiarity with the species, Diana knew that raw, vivid full-color emotions she was picking up were from weres. Maybe werecoyotes, maybe werewolves.

  Don’t run. Don’t run. Diana repeated to herself. That would trigger their instincts to chase, like what had happened in Dog
wood Park.

  At the park she’d felt both the coyotes’ then the werewolves’ need to hunt. Her own fear and adrenaline had done the rest. The boys had only been playing a game, a weird game of tag. The coyotes had been after more than the thrill of the chase.

  The dark emotions from these men chilled her, made her ill to her stomach. These were not playful boys out for a run. They were grown men, looking for trouble, and they’d found her.

  Since Adam hadn’t found her yet, and he no doubt would come looking, thanks to his possessive nature, Diana assumed that her hide the scent trick had worked. Good news, and not so good news, since she was going to have to deal with these guys on her own.

  Diana pushed her fear back and locked it away. She didn’t need to smell like food as well as look like it. Her ankle throbbed, sharp jabbing pains that radiated up her leg.

  She wobbled but didn’t fall.

  “Ah. No thank you. I’m, ah, making a run to the store. Ran out of milk.”

  Milk? She wanted to slap her forehead. Polite, yet stupid. That was her. She gestured at the back of the supermarket, where the parking lot lights glowed invitingly.

  So close, yet so far.

  What idiot city planner decided against streetlights on this corner anyway?

  She blinked and raised her hand, covering her eyes, as two more motorcycles, roared into hearing. The newcomers pulled around, completing the circle.

  Calm, Diana thought, trying to quiet the rapid beat of hr heart. Fear, would only antagonize them. And she was positive she couldn’t walk, much less run.

  Like that was a smart idea anyway on her swelling ankle. Neither could the dratted shoe come off while she stood in the middle of the street waiting to become road kill.

  She thought about calling Adam through the pack bond, dismissing that idea as soon as it filtered through her brain. Since she’d never tried that trick before, she didn’t want to expend her energy on what might be a wasted effort. That energy might be needed to save herself.

  She ignored the little sneering voice that was her conscience taunting her. Pride goeth before the fall.

  Besides, Adam Weis might be like these guys, but there was only one of him and five of the bikers. There would be no one for the boys if anything happened to him. She couldn’t leave the boys unprotected because of her mistake.