Weremones

by Buffi Becraft-Woodall

  How far could one human female go in those stilt-high heels anyway?

  Pretty far if she found a ride. And a ride would effectively end her scent track too.

  When he finally caught up with her, he was going to set the record straight. She needed to realize that he was the alpha male. He made the rules. No more of this running off nonsense.

  Adam headed back to his truck. He imagined her kicked back in front of the TV, safe at home while he roamed the streets looking for her. That jacked up his irritation.

  A black Mercedes pulled up alongside him. The exhaust trashed his olfactory.

  The window glided down, exposing Bob’s bruised face and dirty shirt.

  The human hesitated a moment, then pulled a card from a holder on his dash.

  “I think she went home.”

  Adam’s suspicious look made the man smile, a little sad, a little depreciating.

  “We wouldn’t have gone out again, anyway. There wasn’t any attraction between us.” Bob’s smile turned to a look of warning. “But Diana is a good friend, and I do care what happens to her.”

  Adam got the hint. He took the card and nodded. “I’ll call when I find her.”

  ———

  “Mom’s not here.” Karen’s pretty brown eyes widened with feigned innocence.

  Feigned, because Adam could smell the guilt. “She went out with a girlfriend to see a movie.”

  There was the tiniest bit of hesitation on the word girlfriend. The way her pulse sped up, the faint scent of perspiration as she uttered the lie.

  Adam noticed that since Bradley was openly dating her, how difficult it was to maintain any irritation at the girl. Her charm was innate, a gift, but hardly a psychic one.

  She was popular in school, smart, and a member of several scholastic committees.

  The girl was a damn good cheerleader with a perpetual perky attitude, loved by probably everyone she knew. The boys were head over heels gaga with the girl.

  Before the park incident with Diana, Adam didn’t know she or her daughter existed. Now, every other sentence out of the boys’ mouths was either about Diana or Karen Ridley.

  Which was why Adam wasn’t overly surprised to catch the twins’ scents.

  “May I come in?” He asked as polite as possible with his dark mood.

  Karen flushed again, a pretty pink hue that lightened Adams foul emotions.

  “I don’t think …,” she began.

  Adam ended her cute indecision with a bark, “Bradley! Brandon!”

  Bradley appeared from behind the door, not surprising since he already knew the boy was there. Adam shut the door behind him, sensing a building confrontation.

  The teenager pulled Karen behind him. Brandon shuffled, full of nervous energy, into the living room entryway.

  “I called them, Mr. Weis.” Karen pulled away from Bradley. Her little chin rose in defiance as she defended her friends. “I heard a noise outside.”

  Bradley put a hand out to her.

  “It’s all right, Karen.”

  She shook the hand off and rushed on. Her eyes locked on to Adam’s, willing him to believe. “There were coyotes in the backyard. They tried to get in.”

  Bradley wrapped his own arms around her. Karen buried her face in Bradley’s chest.

  The boy looked over her head, his fierce protective instincts on alert. Bradley’s eyes glimmered red. His voice was low and rough. Adam knew how close the boy’s emotions had him to changing.

  “Coyotes came and knocked all the trash cans down, dragged trash all over the yard. There’s marks on the doors and windows where they tried to get in.”

  Brandon’s quiet voice filled in where Bradley stopped. He halted at his brother’s dark look but gathered his lanky body and spoke anyway.

  “The coyotes shouldn’t have been able to enter the yard because Miz Ridley had both the yard and the house warded a few years ago by a witch. She also had the grounds blessed by a priest.”

  Karen’s babbling drew Adam’s attention again. She spoke over Bradley’s attempts to comfort her, rubbing wide circles on her back and low shhh’s.

  “They were trying to get in. I’m not making it up.”

  She shivered again and Adam smelled the brief burst of psychic, covered quickly by the flat scent of a normal human null.

  Adam met Bradley’s hard eyes while he considered. She wasn’t the normal human he’d believed her to be. He’d never heard of a psychic who could camouflage the psychic magical scent they emitted, especially when they used their gifts.

  While Adam took everything in, quietly processing everything he’d learned in the short time he’d been standing in the entry, Karen pulled away from Bradley to pace.

  She glared at Adam.

  “You don’t believe me.” She accused.

  Adam put a hand on the doorknob and tried to placate the girl.

  “I do believe you Karen. But I want to check outside for signs.”

  Her laugh was a half sob. Tears glittered in her eyes.

  “You won’t find any. We cleaned up the trash. I tried to call Mom. Her cell phone keeps saying unavailable.”

  Adam squashed the knot that tried to grip his stomach. He attempted his best reassuring smile, but failed at that. The thought of werecoyotes marking the Ridley house made him feel feral. With Diana’s disappearance, he’d have the next were that trespassed for dinner.

  His dangerous gleam of teeth seemed to calm her. Karen nodded. She took a breath and went to stand by Brandon, her small hand seeking the boy’s larger one.

  “Bradley.”

  Adam motioned for the boy to follow him out. He glanced back at the other two kids. Karen huddled up to Brandon much in the same way that wolven do when seeking or giving comfort.

  “Stay here.”

  Outside, the cool night breeze blew. Adam inhaled deep, confused when the air yielded almost no scent to his sensitive nose. The scent of fresh cut grass. Oil and gasoline rose from the driveway. The flowers in the haphazard flowerbed surrounding the house were sweet.

  He realized that he was missing the scents of animals and human, old scents that layered over one another and whispered their tales to his nose. He had been in such turmoil every time he came to the Ridley home, that he’d missed the absence.

  Adam walked into the street, noticing as he did that the air returned to its normal collage of scents once he stepped off of the curb.

  The stench of coyote assaulted his nose. He remembered that he’d driven over in his truck, specially designed with an air filter in the a/c to keep the motor scents to a minimum in the cab. Whatever Diana had done effectively obliterated the coyote’s scents in the yard.

  “I’d bet they scent marked every mailbox on the block,” Bradley said with disgust as he trotted up from a quick check of the neighbor’s yard.

  “How long have you known about them?”

  Truthfully, Adam had wanted to talk to the boy more than check for werecoyote stink. His territorial instincts made him want to find and kill them all. The haunting memory of Amanda’s pelt made Diana’s absence worry him more.

  The question took Bradley off guard. He glanced back at the house. Bradley finally shrugged.

  Adam’s snarl was swift and sure. “Answer the question.” He’d tolerate a lot, but not disrespect. “How long have you known that a whole family of psychics lived here?”

  Bradley watched him, his face a mask of stone.

  You can do anything you want to me, but I won’t talk.

  Adam hated it when the boys closed off like he was the intruder. They took their cues from Bradley, closing him out when they needed to work as a pack the most.

  Adam could see that one day Bradley Starr would be a powerful leader, a Canis in his own territory. Just not today.

  Adam had paid for the right to alpha this pack in flesh and blood. He’d lost a potential mate. So lead he would.

  “Eventually, you are going to have to trust me with what’s best for the pack
, son.”

  “I’m not you’re son.” Regret at the words, for the punishment he assumed he’d get, flashed in Bradley’s eyes. The boy stood his ground.

  Frustration ate at Adam. This wasn’t the time or place for this confrontation. He searched his brain for something to say.

  What did he know about raising kids anyway? Nothing. He’d been an only child, thinking he was human until his wolven genes kicked in.

  “No, you’re not my son. But I am you’re legal guardian according to the state of Texas and Pack Council. You will respect that.”

  Bradley met his gaze with unflinching eyes, and then averted them to look elsewhere, proving that he wasn’t the alpha he pretended.

  Adam had a killer targeting strays. No telling when the murderer would decide to start on the local wolven population. And now, the werecoyotes were stalking the Ridley home. His pack was lousy with psychics and noncombatants. He didn’t have enough muscle to protect everyone.

  “We’ll talk about respect later. Right now, though, I need yours and the pack’s cooperation.”

  “I’m not leaving until Miz Ridley gets home.”

  Not for the first time, Adam thought he was handling the situation wrong. Maybe what the kid needed was more responsibility, not less.

  Adam wanted Bradley concentrate on school, pack bonding, and doing things with his own age group. He wanted to give the boys back the childhood they didn’t get to have.

  “Bradley, I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t understand why you guys keep thinking I’m going to go ‘American Werewolf’ all over everyone.” He took a breath and let it out on a weary sigh. “Yes, I do. And I’m going to say it again. And again, until you finally listen. I. Am. Not. Garrick. Moser.”

  “I know ….”

  He relayed the news of the wolven murders, watching with satisfaction as the reality of the danger sunk home. Bradley looked skeptical at first. He nodded solemnly.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  Adam thought about how to phrase what he thought the boy needed.

  “Exactly, what you always do. Keep an eye out for your pack brothers.”

  Bradley raised his eyebrows half up his forehead. Adam set a hand on the boy’s shoulder, stepped in close and met the boy’s eyes.

  “And I need you to keep me informed. Not ratting anyone out, but keep me apprised of what’s going on.”

  Being the outsider was hell. Seeing Bradley’s wince as he grasped the problem, helped Adam’s pride some.

  “Lets’ go back inside. But first, you need to know that Ms. Ridley isn’t out at the movies with a girlfriend.”

  “Uh … I know.” Bradley nearly squirmed under his hand.

  Adam nodded, understanding. “She’s not on her date with Bob Benedict either.”

  He wanted to snort at the name.

  “Well? Where is she then?” Anxiety colored Bradley’s voice, a little high, a little desperate, making him sound more like the child he was. Bradley recovered, but the slip was already out there.

  “You sure have gotten attached to Ms. Ridley. You and Karen have only been dating a couple of weeks now? Right?”

  “What happened to Mr. Benedict?” Bradley narrowed his eyes at Adam, his behavior all bristly and full of distrust. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

  Yep, Adam thought, kind of smug and proud, the kid would make a first-rate alpha … if he survived being trained as beta.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Diana’s head hurt. As she became more aware, her body began to catalogue more complaints. Her right shoulder ached with a raw soreness. Underneath the soreness, her joint and muscle burned, the pain radiating out.

  There were more burning lines, the pain of lacerations, across her butt and thigh.

  Her ankle throbbed, pulsating with each beat of her heart.

  “How do you feel, little sister?”

  The beautiful, melodious voice distracted her. Diana shifted. Her stomach lurched.

  Taking a handful of the soft, fuzzy blanket beneath to steady herself, she opened her eyes, focusing on the shadowed face of the man, no werewolf, bent over her. Behind him the night stretched out in a field of grass. The faint odor of cattle rode the breeze.

  He was a study in shadows. Black eyes, dark velvety skin stretched over swells of muscle. A multitude of tiny braids made up his hair, sliding over the ridges and plains that made up his shoulders.

  “Tank.”

  “Yes.” His cultured voice made no demands. But Diana wanted up. What had she gotten herself into this time?

  Heat radiated from both sides of her, pinpointing both werewolves without having to look. Her stomach protested again and Diana made a face. The sharp concern from both of them made her smile, wan, but still enough to offer reassurance.

  “I’m okay, I think. I think I bit my tongue. All I can taste is blood and my tummy doesn’t like it.”

  God. Caught talking like a mommy. She wanted to bite said tongue for uttering the words.

  Tank passed a significant look over her head. She followed his gaze. Her eyes landed on the golden half of the duo.

  Chase rested against the trunk of the tree sheltering them, his long body stretched out in all his bare-chested glory. The tail of the braid tickled one male nipple. She imagined that it kept his hair tamed while riding his motorcycle.

  His eyes gleamed gold, then red in the moonlight. A predatory smile flashed across his face, exposing white, perfect teeth.

  It seemed to her that every werewolf she’d met so far had excellent orthodontia. A predator of that magnitude would have to, she supposed. The nervous flush that his intensity caused made Diana blink furiously and look away. She’d probably go blind or faint from testosterone overdose.

  “Want me to kiss your tummy and make it all better, Diana Ridley?”

  She glanced back and caught the teasing light in Chase’s eyes. It looked and felt like the prelude to a hunt, reminding her of Adam’s intense gaze. She missed the macho jerk and his blue eyes, too.

  Tank growled. Chase laughed with the ease that spoke of true friendship. But, he took the warning. The call of the hunt inside him leashed for the moment.

  Being the intense focus of two such powerful creatures unnerved her. Not all of it was sexual. The intensity brought back all the warnings about supernaturals she’d been using to keep Adam at bay.

  “I need to stand.” She needed space.

  With the help of Tank’s long, elegant, and ever so careful hand, Diana stood. She smoothed down the extra-extra large tee shirt that hung mid-thigh. It smelled of man and musk.

  Trying desperately not to think of the reason why she was wearing borrowed clothes, she wobbled a couple of steps away.

  “Diana Ridley, are you well?”

  Tank had some pretty powerful mojo in that voice of his. She realized that he had gifts other than being a werewolf. It made her suspicious.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Driver’s license.” Chase’s soft breath of a chuckle on the back of her neck made her jump. She hadn’t sensed his approach. Her heart sped up with a jolt of fear as he buried his face against the fringe of hair on her neck.

  “I thought it was taboo for a woman to reveal her true weight.” He whispered.

  The warmth of his body soaked through the tee shirt. A big hand slid around her waist, snuggling her against Chase’s firm body. Her breath caught and her heart sped up another notch.

  “I, ahhh … honesty’s the best policy?” She nearly whimpered.

  She was in serious danger of becoming a werewolf groupie slut.

  “Enough. Let her go, Chase. You do not toy with another’s possessions.”

  The arm loosened and cool air replaced the heat behind her. “True. But she’s irresistible.”

  “Well, resist. The blood lowers her inhibitions. I need to reassess her injuries before we return her to her pack.”

  Huh? Blood? Possessions? Diana didn’t think she lik
ed those implications. In fact, her temperature cooled and she made an effort to shut down whatever psychic connection she had inadvertently developed with these two strangers. She felt a sense of familiarity usually felt around people you knew and trusted for awhile. “Excuse me?”

  The fog that seemed to be hazing her thinking lifted with the first spark of anger.

  “With your permission, Miss Ridley, I would like to examine your injuries.”

  “I’m sure you would Mr. Spock.”

  Diana crossed arms under her full breasts, noticing that the tee shirt rode up as she did. Their gazes followed the movement that exposed more thigh.

  So far, all the werewolves she’d met were a pushy bunch. She wasn’t about to give any more ground to them. She ignored the amusement, and other things, that her psyche picked up from Chase.

  “Mr. Spock?”

  “Yeah, Doc. You remind the lady of that pointy-eared guy on TV. Man, has she got you pegged.”

  “I want you to explain that possessions bit.” Diana held up a hand. “Then again, I don’t think I want to know.”

  Diana half turned and pinned her narrowed eyes on the blond werewolf. “Is he really a doctor?”

  “Yeah, he’s a pretty good one, too.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “You gonna let us play doctor?”

  She made an exasperated sound and rounded on Tank.

  “So where’s your license, degree, or whatever doctors hang in their office?”

  She’d never really looked at the ones hanging in her family physician’s office.

  Other than being official looking and encased in expensive frames, they could have been printed up anywhere. But Doctor Anderson had been treating her family for years.

  Doctor Tank hadn’t. She didn’t trust all the warm fuzzies she’d been getting from supernaturals lately.

  “And another thing. How do I know you really are a doctor? Except for the word of your smart mouth friend.”

  Up until now, Tank, had been calm, making his intimidating largess unthreatening. While his voice was captivating and his interest intense, he’d been tame, chaste, compared to Chase.