by Lani Aames
By the time he brought her tray to the bedroom, she had showered and toweled off. She strolled out of the bathroom and sniffed appreciatively. "Oooh, yeah, that's the stuff. I could eat two steaks."
"They're both for you," he said automatically. "Why…how…why…?"
"You sounded a lot brighter when you thought I was a liar." She brushed past him and jumped for the bed, landing in the middle, lolling like a queen, and favoring him with a smirk. "Ah, the mileage I'm gonna get out of this. Let's start with your whole smug speech about how just because you're a vampire, there's no such thing as werewolves. That sound like a good place to you?"
"Janet—"
"Or we could touch on why it's not a good idea to kidnap people when they're on their way to an important meeting."
"Janet—"
"Or we could go into all the times you asked me to tell the truth, and I did, and then you didn't believe me, and then you—"
He fell to his knees beside the bed. He had to grit his teeth for a few seconds to keep his jaw from trembling. "Janet, why are you here? Why aren't you with your family?" His voice was rising, but he was helpless to stop it. "Why didn't you head for the road and keep going? Why are you back?"
She frowned. "You're taking the fun all out of this. I've been looking forward to it for days. I need to see some major-ass groveling, pal."
He didn't speak.
She sighed. "What, I gotta get out the hand puppets? You haven't figured it out? Dick, you're my family now. I never want to go back there. Cape Cod in the summer—yech! Tourists cluttering up the roads, the beaches, and the mall—and you get in trouble if you eat them. Can't even take a little bite to discourage them from coming back…"
"Janet."
"I'm serious! Anyway, if I stay with you, I don't have to go back. I didn't realize how unhappy I was with them until I fell in with you. I'm not pack anymore, I'm yours. I mean—if you want."
"Is this a joke?" he almost whispered. "Is it a trick to get even? Because while I wouldn't blame you—"
"Oh, hey, I'm a bitch, but I'm not, like, a sociopath! That'd be a rotten thing to do. I love you, you stupid fuck. I'm not going anywhere. Except, of course, for a few days a month. Think you can put up with that, you undead dope?"
"I've been waiting almost a hundred years to hear those words. Well, not those exact words." He reached out and pulled her down onto his lap. They sat on the floor while she cuddled into him like a bad-tempered doll. "Oh, Janet. I missed you so much. And I was such a fool."
"Yeah, a real arrogant asshole."
"Yes."
"Completely unreasonable and jerkish."
"And then some."
"And you're really, really sorry."
"So unbelievably sorry."
"And totally unworthy of me."
"In a thousand ways."
"And you're gonna buy lots of food and get a house in the country so I don't have to hunt in the city."
"The refrigerator is full and I already have a house in the Berkshires."
"Then that's all right," she said, sounding quite satisfied. She stretched her legs out and wiggled her toes. "Um…the steaks are getting cold."
"So am I."
She giggled and turned so she was straddling him, then hooked her ankles behind his waist and kissed him on the mouth. Slowly, she cupped the back of his neck and brought his mouth to her throat. "Hungry?" she purred.
He thought he would have a seizure. She had come back—she loved him—she would stay—and now she was freely offering him blood. Soon the Palestinians and the Israelis would make peace, and Janet would willingly enroll in charm school.
He sank his fangs into her throat without hesitation—he couldn't have held back if he tried. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest while her blood warmed him from the inside out. She was wriggling against him—now her fingers were at his zipper—now her warm little hand was inside his trousers, clasping him, stroking him. He groaned against her throat.
"You did miss me!" She shoved him back and he was happy enough to lie down for her. He stopped feeding and licked the bite mark. Her glorious breasts were jiggling in his face and he couldn't recall ever being happier, not once in his long, long life.
She seized his cock with delightful firmness and raised herself above him. His arms went around her waist as he guided her to him.
Entering her was like slipping into luxurious oil. Her head tipped back and she said "Ummmmm…that's good, I missed that," to the ceiling.
He stroked her breasts, running his fingers over her firm nipples, marveling at the softness of her skin in contrast with her strength and stamina. She'd jumped three stories and there wasn't a mark on her—and he was certainly looking! Not a bruise, not a scratch. She healed almost as quickly as he did.
"You're gorgeous," he said.
"You're just saying that to get laid," she teased.
"In case you haven't noticed, I am getting laid."
She snorted, then began to rock back and forth. He noticed an odd, sudden reticence about her and wondered about it—then suddenly realized she had likely been on top when she crippled her first lover.
"For heaven's sakes," he said with mock disgust, "can't you go any faster than that? Any harder? I'm about to fall asleep down here."
She was so astonished she nearly fell off him. Then she made the connection and smirked. "Okey-dokey, dead guy. Here we go."
They ruined the carpet. They didn't care. Toward the end, she was screaming at the ceiling and he could feel his spine cracking—and didn't care. Her legs were around his waist in a crushing grip, her arms around his neck, cutting off his air—and he wanted more. He told her so, insisted on it, demanded it, then bit her ear. He could actually feel the temperature change within her as she reached orgasm, felt her uterus tightening around his shaft. That was enough to tip him dizzily over the edge.
They weren't able to speak for several minutes, until Janet finally managed, "Oh, cripes, I think that should be against the law."
"It probably is, in at least three states."
"My supper's cold," she complained, making no move to stand up and get the tray.
"So, I've got a microwave. Why did I even cook it? I doubt you'd have minded it raw. A werewolf," he mused, stroking her thigh. "Even after I saw the truth with my own eyes, I could hardly believe it."
"That's because you're kind of a dumb-ass sometimes."
"I have to take this from a foul-mouthed tart like you?"
She pounced on him, nibbled his throat. "I'm your foul-mouthed tart, so there."
"Excellent." He kissed her nose. "So…how do you feel about being an undead werewolf?"
She groaned. "Let's talk about it in ten years, all right? Let me get used to the idea of not being pack anymore first."
"It's a date. Will they come after you?"
"I have no idea. No one's ever voluntarily left before. I doubt the boss would really mind—he's softened up since he got hitched—but I s'pose I should tell them I'm not dead."
"Tomorrow."
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
"We've made our own pack, Jane. We're two monsters who do as they like, when they like. Everyone else had best stay out of our way."
"Ooooh, God, I love it when you talk like that…"
"How about when I do this?" He leaned down and nibbled on her impudent nipple, running his tongue over the velvety bumps of her areola.
"Oh, God."
"Or this?" He sucked hard, and nipped her very, very lightly.
"Ummmmm…"
"I love you."
"Ummmm. Me too. Don't stop."
He laughed and bent to her warm, lush flesh. "Not for a hundred years, at least."
"We'll figure something out."
Epilogue
From the private papers of Richard Will, Ten Beacon Hill, Boston, Massachusetts.
"I'm in love! No entries of late—too busy. Too much to do just to keep up with my lovely monster. She's everything I ever
wanted and, even better, I appear to be everything she ever wanted.
"No more time to write today—we're breaking in a new chef. He's used to catering large office functions, so he should be able to keep Janet satisfied.
"I suppose I'll give up this journal very soon. I realize now I wrote in it as a way to stave off my loneliness. No need for such distracting tricks any longer.
"Must go—my bride has just playfully tossed a marble bust at my head to get my attention. I think I'll chase her down and spank her."
The End
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