Forever Caspia

by Michelle Hoppe

  There’d be crate time involved in this crime.

  He just knew it.

  Chapter 3

  Shit. Fucked, Fluffster. You’re fucked.

  He slid guiltily from the counter, turning fully to identify the male who’d entered the kitchen. His ears stood up attentively.

  “His name is Fluffy?” the man asked after a guffaw of loud laughter. “You named a dog the size of Bigfoot Fluffy?”

  Bigfoot is all a lie. Just ask me, the werewolf.

  The man, slick and dressed in a black leather jacket and skinny jeans, whistled, rocking back on his heels. “Damn. He’s friggin’ huge, JC.”

  Why thank you, intruder.

  “Yeah, he’s huge all right, and in a whole lot of trouble. He ate my steak!” She grabbed his muzzle and gave him the “bad dog” eyes, her shoulders sagging. “This is bad, Fluff! No, no, no!”

  Not the whole steak. He shot her his best guilty look before letting his head hang low in shame, only to catch a glimpse of her visitor’s shoes.

  And who the hell was this? Max’s gaze wandered up to assess the face of the man who’d interrupted a perfectly good meal, sized him up, and in two seconds flat he wanted to chew his way through the guy’s intestines.

  There was an immediate phony vibe about him—cocky and self-assured. He had that beefed-up, polished, spray-tanned look that said he cared more about making his payment to the place he pumped iron in than he did about his girlfriend. His eyes were deeply set under a hawk-like forehead, and a little on the beady side, if you asked Max. Of course, no one would ask him. He was, after all, only the dog.

  Sitting back on his haunches, he narrowed his eyes at the interloper, waiting.

  Grabbing JC by the arm, the man pulled her close to him. “Listen. Forget the dog. Forget the steak. Let’s go out. I’ll buy you dinner.”

  She squirmed free of Muscle Man and rubbed her arms, moving closer to Fluffy. “Not gonna happen, Jess. Now, go get your spray-tan-in-a-can or whatever it is you claim you left here, and go home.”

  Jess? The douchenozzle?

  Jess raked a hand through his black hair and grated out a sigh. “I wish you’d just listen to reason, JC. Just let me explain what happened.”

  JC crossed her arms over her chest, sucking in her cheeks. “Reason? Are you calling me unreasonable for demanding you keep your man parts inside those ridiculous skinny jeans?”

  Jess’s chiseled face hardened. “Look, it was a mistake. I was drunk. She was drunk. It was a party—we were all drunk.”

  He watched as JC narrowed her eyes at Jess, her spine rigid. “So not only did you cheat on me, but you were intoxicated, too. How is this working in your self-control’s favor?”

  Jess moved in closer, planting himself in front of her. “It was a stupid mistake. That’s it. A one-shot deal.”

  “I told you, I don’t care how many times it was. It’s. Over. Now, get whatever you left behind and go home, Jess.” She pointed toward the small hallway leading to her bedroom.

  Max nodded his head in approval. Way to stand your ground. No cheaters.

  “C’mon. Can’t we still be friends?” Jess coaxed, putting a charming grin on his smarmy face. Max hovered closer to JC, his thick body pushing Spray Tan Man out of the way. “Let’s be friends over dinner. It has to beat hanging out with this mutt.”

  Mutt? Wanna see my big mutt teeth, asshole? Once more, Max placed his bulk between them and gave Jess a low warning growl, letting it spill from his throat slow and lazy.

  “Go lay down or something, would you?” Jess nudged him hard with a knee to his hindquarters then reached again for JC, making Max bark sharply in warning.

  Jess just didn’t seem to get the picture. I’ll eat your waxed eyebrows right off your fake-tanned face, slick.

  JC inched back against the cabinet, letting her hand rest on his ear. He lifted his muzzle up and nuzzled it to reassure her, staying close. “Not interested—not ever.”

  Jess’s face went soft, his words apologetic and pleading. He ran a finger down her cheek. “I just don’t get you, JC. We had a good thing, and now you want to throw it all away because of one stupid mistake when I was drunk?”

  Now he was touching her. That changed everything. He wasn’t just going to eat this guy’s face off—he was going to decapitate him.

  JC pushed at Jess’s chest, shrugging him off, the tension in her voice clear to Max’s perceptive ears. “Yeah, we had a good thing going until you decided to do Snookie. Go away, Jess.”

  Jess made a sad face, full of fake remorse. “I’ve apologized over and over. What else do you want?”

  JC made a face at him. “Fidelity. Crazy, right? Please, just go, Jess!” She turned her back to him, planting her trembling hands on the counter.

  Jess obviously wasn’t accustomed to the word “no.” What to do, what to do? Snarl and growl some more and maybe take the risk of ending up back in the pound for his “issues”? Or attack and take his chances?

  Jess put a hand on JC’s waist, sending Max’s anger into orbit. Again with the touching.

  Jesus, motherfucker. Don’t you think you’ll need that hand to pump all that iron at the gym? How will you sculpt your way to perfection with only one hand after I chew it the fuck off?

  Yep. Attack was the right choice.

  “C’mon, JC,” he pleaded in a husky whisper. “Let’s try to work this out. I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant and we can talk. Just talk.” He slid his arms around her waist from behind and his hand grazed her breast.

  Rage grew in the pit of his belly—ugly, red rage. Douchenozzle had touched her breast. That was cause for disembowelment.

  Max gave a sharp growl, no longer a warning, but a clear snarling yelp of anger just before backing up and launching himself on Jess’s back, sinking his claws deep into his leather jacket. Standing as tall as Jess, he used his full weight to knock him forward and away from JC.

  But Jess reacted quickly by shoving him back hard, knocking him to the ground. “Get the fuck off me, you damn mutt!” he snarled.

  It was over faster than it began. With one swift motion, he righted himself, backed up against Jess and, lifting his hind leg, he let go—full stream.

  A large yellow puddle formed on the kitchen tile.

  JC’s eyes widened as she bit her lip to smother a giggle while Jess hopped around from foot to foot.

  “He pissed on me! I’ll fucking kill him!” Jess yanked a dishtowel from the rack and dabbed at his sodden jeans. His perfectly chiseled face wrinkled with disgust.

  JC began to laugh, the husky rumble making it all worthwhile. “I really think you should go now, Jess. Fluffy doesn’t like you much, do you, Fluff?”

  Max answered by brushing up against her thighs protectively.

  Jess beat a hasty retreat out of the kitchen, shooting a fierce look over his shoulder at Max. “You’ll miss me, JC!”

  Like she’d miss having the clap.

  “Well, don’t worry. If I find myself overwrought with loneliness, desperate with despair, super low on self-esteem, I’ll be sure to pick up the phone and call!” JC yelled after him as the door slammed.

  Good girl.

  Looking down at him, she tugged his ear gently. “You ate my steak, you heathen.”

  And saved your pretty, pretty ass.

  “But I’ll forgive you, because you did get rid of Jess and he’s not easy to get rid of. So I guess I’m not eating steak for dinner, am I?”

  He nuzzled her hand to show his remorse, waiting for forgiveness.

  JC chuckled, the warmth of it slipping into his ears. “You beast. Listen here, Knight in Shining Armor, whatever I put in your bowl is yours. If it’s on a plate, you can be pretty sure it’s mine, unless the plate is on the floor. That makes it yours. Got it?”

  Well, he couldn’t in all good conscience consent to that, now could he? He was a carnivore. Max avoided her eyes and nuzzled her hand again instead.

  She smiled down at him, her
blue, almond-shaped eyes crinkled at the corners. “You know, that was some pretty impressive stuff there, Fluff. Very chivalrous of you to sense my discomfort and act on it. Now if only you walked on two legs instead of four, we’d make the perfect couple, don’t you think?”

  * * * *

  After watching three solid hours of a Downton Abbey DVD while sitting at her feet, Max got tired and trotted down to JC’s bedroom, where he sprawled out on her bed, tucking his paws under her pillows.

  The blankets were a rumpled mess after he’d given himself a good back scratch, but he’d fully absorbed her sweet smell of sunshine and cinnamon. He lay there for a while, attuning his senses to her unique scent, looking around the room at the pictures on her dresser of her parents and friends, the dozens of shoes lining her open closet.

  He’d spent an inordinate amount of time wondering what she looked like in the skimpy, pink, sheer nightgown hanging on the hook inside her closet door.

  “Hey.” JC patted his belly. He fought off his lustful thoughts and slowly opened his eyes with a yawn.

  “This,” she tapped the bed with a sleepy smile, “is mine, cookie. That,” she pointed to the mat on the floor, “is yours.”

  Max lifted his head to see her more clearly. She had a towel wrapped around her head and one wrapped around her body.

  Naked…she was naked beneath the blue towel. Steak and a beautiful naked woman he couldn’t touch just yet, all in one night. It was too much.

  The gentle swell of her hip brushed against his legs as she sat next to him. Pouring lotion into her hand, JC smoothed it over her calves, working her way up to thighs he just knew were silky-soft.

  He sniffed the air. Cucumber-melon. Nice. Her hands made circular motions, rubbing in the cream higher and higher. Lowering the towel, she let it rest at her waist as she dabbed some lotion on her shoulders. Her breasts thrust upward, her taut nipples beading from the cool air.

  “Hey, Fluff,” she said.

  He turned his head, averting his guilty eyes. “I told you to get on the floor, handsome.” JC stood and pointed again to his “bed.”

  Max slunk off the bed, sliding to the floor and curling his big body on the mat.

  Letting the towel fall to the floor, JC grabbed her nightgown from the hook inside the closet and slid it over her creamy skin, the glow of the lamp shading her soft contours.

  His groin tightened and he tensed at the familiar call of his body to shift. He willed his muscles to relax and obey, focusing on remaining in his wolf form. Because shifting could be bad—not to mention traumatizing.

  It was all he could do to keep from showing her he was no stray dog from a shelter. But patience was required here. He didn’t understand much more than JC was his prophesized mate, and he was wildly attracted to her. He felt her inside him. He instantly knew her soul.

  He’d never believed the stories before. All the mumbo-jumbo about how you felt your life mate, like an invisible tether; you were joined and you just knew.

  But he believed them now—because he knew.

  Now he just had to find a way to get to know the rest of her without scaring the shit out of her. And dying. There was still the damn threat of death hanging over his head.

  It wasn’t going to be easy. He couldn’t just say, “Hey, JC, glad you adopted me at the pound. Thanks for rescuing me from my first round with death. By the way, did I mention I’m not just any wolf? I’m a werewolf. Your werewolf, baby. Wanna mate? Because round two with death is coming up.”

  He especially couldn’t say that to a human.

  Something he still didn’t understand. How could his life mate be a human? Had some of his pack mated with humans and turned them? He’d always been taught that wasn’t allowed. Ever. This hurdle had to have something to do with the curse.

  Turning off the bedside lamp, JC scratched his muzzle before climbing over him and getting into bed. Her hand hung down over the edge of the mattress. He licked her palm, savoring the soft texture of her skin on his tongue.

  “Night, Fluffy. Welcome home,” she whispered, her sultry voice slicing through the velvety darkness.

  Goodnight.