From her spot on the street, Gwen spied several promising items. An old chest of drawers, a pair of end tables and a grouping of mismatched chairs caught her eye. If the price was right, she’d haul them home and give each a facelift with some decorative paint. Even if she didn’t resuscitate her shabby-chic furniture business, working on the pieces would be a welcome distraction.
“Let’s go check it out, huh Jez?”
Jezebel lumbered out of the Jeep then trotted up the long driveway ahead of Gwen and made her rounds among the shoppers. She was greeted with smiles and ear scratches.
By the time Gwen caught up to her dog, the golden retriever was wriggling under the attention of a slight, middle-aged man who had crouched to pet her.
“Aw, what happened here, pooch?” he asked, examining her scars.
“Cougar attack, believe it or not!” Gwen said, laughing as she approached.
The man jerked his head up and stared open-mouthed at Gwen. “Cougar attack!” he exclaimed. “Are you John Chaney’s granddaughter?”
The chatter from the front lawn stopped and Gwen felt as if everyone were staring at her. She glanced around the group and saw that she was correct. Her face heated and she knew she must be blushing at the sudden attention.
“Yes, I’m Gwen.”
The man stood and glommed on to her hand and pumped it madly. “I am so pleased to meet you! Your grandfather was a great man—a great man! I’m new here too. My name’s Henry Waggner—Henry’s Barber Shop on Main. John Chaney helped me start my business. He—”
Henry Waggner’s sentence was cut off when an enormous man in a black leather biker vest—with no shirt underneath—rushed up beside him and looped a beefy arm around the barber’s narrow shoulders. The big man squeezed so hard that Henry nearly lost his balance.
“How’s it going there, Henry?” he muttered through clenched teeth, then turned to Gwen and softened his smile. “Tiny Wainwright,” he said with a nod. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Miss Chaney. We were all very fond of your grandfather.”
Tiny spoke with a slow, southern drawl and Gwen noted that the biker had a single tattoo on his huge biceps—a simple triangle with a swirl in the center. She looked up into his eyes and saw genuine kindness there.
“Thank you,” Gwen said.
The shift in mood was palpable. The crowd quieted and, as if an announcement had been made, everyone queued up behind Tiny and Gwen found herself the focus of a receiving line. For the next twenty minutes, she accepted handshakes, hugs and sincere expressions of sympathy at the loss of her grandfather.
It seemed that each person had a fond memory to share about John Chaney and their affection for him overwhelmed Gwen. More than once their stories brought tears to her eyes.
When the last well-wisher had stepped away, Tiny gently guided Gwen to the end of the driveway. “Sorry about that, ma’am. Like I said, everyone really liked your granddaddy. We’re all very glad you’re here and if you need anything—anything at all—don’t hesitate to ask. We’ll take care of ya.”
* * * * *
Gwen left the garage sale empty-handed. She hadn’t even had a chance to browse before getting sidetracked by her strange welcome to Talbot. She’d been so confused by the episode that she nearly forgotten to stop at the grocery store before returning home.
It wasn’t hard to find the market. It was on Main Street, just half a block from Henry Waggner’s barber shop. Gwen rolled down the car windows and told Jezebel to stay put. “I’ll just be a minute, Jez.”
John Chaney had left the pantry stocked with enough paper products and canned goods to last a year, so she just picked up some dog food and perishables. Gwen drove home trying to make sense of the impromptu memorial service.
Before putting away the groceries, Gwen pulled off her shoes and socks, unhooked her bra, yanked it through the armholes of her T-shirt and tossed it in the hamper. She traded her jeans for a pair of baggy sweatpants and swept her hair into a ponytail.
She tuned the radio to a classic rock station, then mixed herself a rum and cola. The drink soothed her and, after pouring a second, she looked at Jezebel over the rim of her glass. “Don’t judge, goofball. It’s been a weird day.”
She seasoned a couple of chicken breasts, set them in the oven to roast, and grabbed the colander from its hook above the sink to rinse the lettuce and vegetables for her salad. As she cubed the cucumber and tomato, she replayed the kind words she’d heard that morning.
John Chaney had been a good man—she knew that—but they’d also said how important he’d been to the community. Their sentiments meant the world to Gwen, but she sensed they had needed closure as well.
Her grandfather’s will had been very specific. He hadn’t wanted a funeral. He’d prepaid for cremation and stipulated that the undertaker was to row out to John’s favorite fishing hole and dump his ashes in the lake. All the same, she felt certain that he would have loved to hear the impression he’d left on this little town.
Gwen plucked a carrot out of the strainer and sliced it into thin rounds. Jezebel must have smelled one of her favorite treats, because she padded into the kitchen and sat at her mistress’s feet. Gwen tossed a orange chunk in the air and the dog caught it before it hit the floor.
Jezebel’s tail thumped on the floor, then stopped suddenly. The dog’s ears perked up and she trotted toward the front door. The fur along her spine stood on end and an uncharacteristic growl rumbled in her chest. Gwen tightened her grip on her knife and followed Jez.
Holding her breath, Gwen eased back the curtain covering the glass in the front door. She exhaled with a huff when she saw the front of a flannel shirt filling the pane. Sergei.
She opened the door and the giant dipped his head to clear the opening. Gwen noted that he was barefooted, one of his shirttails was hanging out of his waistband and his wild mop of hair looked even more disheveled than usual. When he said, “Hello friend,” she could smell alcohol on his breath.
Jezebel’s ears were pulled back and her hackles were still raised. Sergei glanced at her and the dog whined. “Do you need to go outside, dog?” he asked. Jezebel slunk out the front door and he shut it behind her.
Sergei turned his attention back to Gwen. “I am told that you met some of your new neighbors this afternoon. How did you find them?”
“I just took a left at the bottom of my driveway and followed the garage-sale signs,” Gwen said.
Sergei’s brow furrowed. “No, I meant what did you think of them?”
When Gwen winked, Sergei chuckled. “You are having a joke with me.”
“Yes, I’m having a joke with you. They seemed very nice…interesting. They all had very kind things to say about my grandfather.”
Sergei smiled. “He was a very special man. As you are special, Gwen.”
He laid a big hand on Gwen’s shoulder and squeezed. When he swept his gaze over her, she suddenly felt exposed without a bra on. She couldn’t help but blush when her nipples perked up under the heat of his stare.
She took a step backward and crossed her arms over her breasts. “So, how’d you know I’d been in town?”
“This is a small community. Word travels fast.”
Gwen nodded then led the way back to the kitchen. “Join me for dinner? Nothing fancy, just chicken and a salad, maybe a little wine.”
“It would be my great pleasure,” he said, raising one shaggy eyebrow.
Gwen had grown accustomed to the Russian’s formal style of speech. She wasn’t, however, used to the hint of flirtation she thought she detected now.
She inclined her head toward the wine rack. “The chicken won’t be done for a while. I have some of that wonderful cheese of yours in the fridge. Maybe you could choose a little fruit of the vine to go with it.”
While Gwen set the table, Sergei chose a bottle of pinot noir, poured them each a glass then joined her in the kitchen. The two leaned back against the countertop and Sergei raised his glass. “To community,” he t
oasted.
“To community,” Gwen repeated and took a sip. The flavors of black cherry and berries exploded on her tongue. “Oh Sergei, this is fantastic!”
“Perhaps it could be a bit more chilled, but sometimes I am impatient.”
Gwen shrugged. “Tastes perfect to me. You have excellent taste.”
He bowed his head slightly then locked his gaze on Gwen. “I may live the simple life of a farmer, but I insist on the best in all things.”
The emphasis he put on all things, was unmistakable. He had not looked away from her and his stare was unnerving. When he reached out and brushed her forearm with the backs of his fingers, her spine tingled.
Gwen’s mouth went dry and she took a healthy slug from her glass. “Let’s have some of that wonderful cheese to go with this wine,” she said, moving toward the table.
Sergei caught her wrist in his massive hand and the tingle moved from her spine to the dampening spot between her legs. Her reaction was a heady combination of fear and desire. He smiled down at her as if he could sense her excitement, then gave her wrist a squeeze before releasing her.
Snagging the bottle from the countertop, Sergei recorked it and set it in the refrigerator. “Let’s chill the rest of the bottle for a moment and let the cheese warm on the table. We will enjoy each other’s company while we wait, no?”
His dark-brown eyes seemed to flash with a golden light and Gwen felt mesmerized by his stare.
Sergei the giant was an incredible specimen. His stature was just part of the allure. He had a presence about him—a kind of calm authority that was incredibly attractive. And that accent! Everything about this man was exotic and Gwen had the sudden overwhelming urge to become a bit more worldly.
They were both unattached and Gwen hadn’t been with a man—not counting the near-miss with Alex—for far too long. She rolled back her shoulders, pushing out her breasts, and cocked her head. “What did you have in mind…to pass the time while we wait, I mean?”
One corner of his mouth jerked upward and it was obvious that he’d read her meaning loud and clear. When he reached out and stroked her cheek, she leaned into his huge hand.
“So lovely,” he whispered. “May I kiss you, Gwen Chaney?”
The timbre of his deep voice sent vibrations through her body. The sensation settled between Gwen’s legs and a flood of cream soaked her panties. Though her body responded, her tongue seemed paralyzed. She could only manage a single nod in answer to his question.
He needed no more permission. Sergei pulled her to him and crushed his mouth against hers. Gwen felt possessed by this huge man and she moaned against his lips. He slid his hand under her shirt and palmed her aching breast. Snaking his other hand down the front of her sweatpants, Sergei massaged her pussy and slid his long, thick fingers into her.
Gwen jerked her mouth from his and buried her face in the side of his neck. “God, that feels so fucking good!”
Her reaction seemed to spur him on and he plunged deeper into her wet folds.
Shocked by how quickly she’d responded to his touch, Gwen stripped off her T-shirt, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his ear. “Sergei, I’m going to come,” she panted.
“Yes, come for me!” he commanded.
His words were her undoing and she bucked against him. She clung to his big body as the orgasm ripped through her.
Before she could catch her breath, he yanked one of her hands from his neck and flattened her palm against his crotch. She sighed at the huge hardness behind his jeans.
“Do you feel what you do to me? Do you want that big cock inside you?” he growled in her ear.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Wrapping his hands around her thighs, he lifted her, turned and set her on the counter. He yanked down her sweatpants and forced open her knees. “I will fill up your sweet cunt and then you will be mine!”
Gwen looked down and watched him open his jeans. She licked her lips at the sight of his beautiful cock.
It was impossibly long and thick and tipped with a deeply colored head the size of a plum.
The juices dripped from her folds and her nipples tingled as they puckered into tight peaks. “Sergei, I…” She started to protest, but knew she didn’t want to. The thought of that huge rod stretching her wide as it pushed into her elicited a shuddering moan. “Yes,” she whispered.
The look in his eyes changed quickly from lust to something much more menacing. Hunger, she thought. Fear crashed over her like an icy wave. She bent her arms and flattened her palms against his chest. She tried to push him off her, but he was too big, so strong. He pressed another ravenous kiss over her mouth and seemed to feed on her squirming and muffled protests. He shoved a hand between her thighs and roughly kneaded the fleshy mound.
Gwen was terrified and suddenly angry. She redoubled her efforts to push him away. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she bit down hard until she could taste his blood. He jerked his head back and roared—no, howled in pain. She spat out his blood and watched in horror as his face began to change. His jaw bulged and then grew outward into a snout. Long, sharp teeth erupted through the gums and his ears moved up the side of his head and developed sharp peaks. Her own voice seemed far off as she cried, “No! God NO!” over and over again. She beat her fists against any part of his body she could reach.
He refocused his attention on her with a snarl. “You will be my mate! No other shall have you!” he roared. His voice was unnaturally deep and gravelly.
Outside the cabin, Jezebel was barking madly and scratching at the door. Gwen’s screams were now mingled with sobs as she tried to make sense of the hell she found herself in. She wanted to close her eyes, but couldn’t tear her gaze from the beast who loomed above her. The werewolf wrapped a clawed hand around its hard shaft and forced open her legs and was readying to plunge inside her when a loud crack caused them both to turn toward the door.
At the sound of the front door being bashed in, Sergei wheeled around and fastened his jeans. Jezebel’s frantic barks were joined by another dog and a weird snarling so otherworldly that Gwen scrambled into the far corner of the kitchen and covered her ears.
She slid to the floor, drew up her knees and stared wide-eyed as Jezebel and Alex’s black Lab rushed in with hackles raised and teeth bared. Behind them stood a seething, copper-colored werewolf. His eyes flashed and his fangs snapped at the air.
Alex? As if it had heard her silent question, the werewolf turned his attention to Gwen and held out its paw, as if directing her to take cover. Gwen pressed her body farther into the corner and tried to shield herself from the melee.
Sergei moved to advance on Alex and the dogs lunged, each sinking its teeth into the dark werewolf’s corded calves. Sergei threw back his head and howled then swatted at the dogs, sending them sprawling into opposite corners. They quickly found their feet and began circling him again. Sergei hurtled himself at Alex and the two tumbled into the living room. They rolled and tussled across the worn wood planks, growling and biting and clawing at one another. The dogs followed with Gwen close behind.
Bob leaped on the dark monster’s back and latched onto his neck. Sergei separated himself from Alex and groped behind him trying to dislodge the Lab. Jezebel took the opening and sank her teeth into the werewolf’s wrist. Sergei sent the golden retriever flying with a jerk of his enormous forearm. She landed hard against the kitchen cabinets and crumpled into a lifeless heap on the floor. Sergei turned his attention to the dog on his back. He gathered Bob’s scruff in his claws and heaved the growling animal to the floor. Bob was still and quiet.
Alex attacked. He lunged at Sergei, knocking him from his feet until he was laid out on his back in front of the fireplace. Alex pounced and bit into the flesh under the dark werewolf’s upper arm and was splattered with a gush of blood from the brachial artery. Gwen flattened herself against the wall and watched open-mouthed as the gaping wound healed itself.
A black blur was all she
could make out as Sergei sprang to his feet and wrapped a huge claw-tipped hand around Alex’s throat. The much larger beast easily lifted Alex from the floor and held him out at the length of his long arm. Alex grasped at the wrist and kicked wildly. The giant’s reach was too great. Gwen saw the copper beast’s movements began to slow. Sergei turned his body and dashed Alex’s head against the stone fireplace.
Gwen could clearly see the smaller werewolf’s eyes roll back in his head. He’s killing him. Gwen looked frantically about the room. Bob was now whimpering, trying to lift his big head from the floor. Jezebel still lay lifeless. The fireplace poker that Gwen had used as a crutch was leaning against the table outside her bedroom door. She wrapped her hand around the cold iron handle and drew in a deep breath.
Not allowing herself time to think, Gwen took a running start, lifting the poker over her head as she ran. When she gauged that she was close enough, she tightened both hands around the weapon and brought it down with a sickening crack on the back of the giant werewolf’s head. Sergei released his grip and Alex slid to the floor. Gwen willed the monster to fall, and when it didn’t, she brought down the poker again. The beast crumpled at her feet. The transformation of the werewolf back to human was nearly as shocking as the monstrous change had been.
Sergei lay naked on the floor, blood pouring from his head onto the braided rug. Gwen nudged him with her toe and he moaned. She moved to the fireplace, but kept the poker tightly in her grasp. Alex had returned to his human form and was sprawled out naked on the hearth. His blond hair was stained red where he’d been bashed against the stone. Gwen turned her body so she could keep Sergei in her peripheral vision, then knelt and tentatively reached out to touch Alex’s face. She slid her fingers down to his neck and tears of relief flowed when she felt his pulse. She pulled an afghan from the rocker and covered him.
Sergei was beginning to stir. Gwen shot to her feet and raised the poker over her head. Sergei weakly raised his hand in defense. “Please, friend. Please do not kill me,” he begged.
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