by Megan Morgan
* * * *
Lorena woke on the couch to the glow of morning light through the living room curtains and Holden shaking her. She’d had a weird dream, about Wolvites running through the woods, chasing a woman. Chasing her?
“I got a call from the agency.” Holden looked like he’d just woken up as well, his hair rumpled and eyes bleary. “They’re sending people today.”
She lifted her head. “What time is it?”
“A little after six. I’m going to make some coffee.”
She got herself moving and reasonably awake, and joined him in the kitchen. They’d spent a good portion of the night exchanging phone calls and emails with their superiors, after hauling the Wolvite bodies down to the basement and placing them on dry ice with the other specimen. They were instructed not to begin any dissections, not to raise any alarms, and await further instructions.
The house was old, but parts of it were remodeled, including the kitchen. The man who owned the house, Dalton Thomas, invested in the upkeep. He was a wealthy businessman who liked to acquire real estate and was also a monetary supporter of the agency. He rented his houses around the country for their fieldwork.
“They’re sending Dr. David Winston from Washington DC.” Holden stood at the coffee maker. “He’ll be landing in Lexington early this afternoon.”
She woke up fully. Dr. Winston was the top Wolvite researcher in the country, probably the world. He knew more about Wolvites than anyone else.
“They’re sending an extermination squad, too,” Holden said. “They’ll be here by evening. The only instruction I have so far is to inform the mayor they’re coming in. We’re not supposed to send up any general alarm.”
“Deacon and his cousins have probably done it anyway.” She sat down at the table. “I hope they’re all right.”
“I do too. If they’re immune to the rabies virus, we need them alive for our research.”
She glared at him. “Plus, you know, they’re human beings who don’t deserve to be ripped apart by Wolvites.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
She drank her coffee and did some research on her laptop. She accessed the agency database on Wolvites in a quest to find answers. The agency had cataloged plenty of verified Wolvite attacks, but none where the Wolvites actually ganged up and tried to get into someone’s house.
Around mid-morning, frustrated and restless, she freshened up and pounded down one more cup of coffee.
“I’m going to check on Deacon.” She grabbed up the truck keys. “I’ll be back by noon. Call me if anything comes up before then.”
“I think you should stay here.”
“No, I shouldn’t.” She stalked out.
Once in the truck, she almost drove toward Deacon’s house, but remembered he was at Jack’s place. She called him.
“Good mornin’.” His voice rumbled in her ear. “You’re up early.”
“Yeah, it’s been a long night. Where are you right now? Are you guys out warning people?”
“Nah, I’m at Jack’s. We went out around sunrise, but—well, it’s a long story.”
“You mind if I stop over? Does he mind?”
“He ain’t here right now, and I sure don’t mind.”
“Give me directions again, I’ll be there shortly.”
Ten minutes later, she pulled into Jack’s driveway. Deacon’s truck was parked near the house. He sat on the front porch, on a porch swing. She climbed out of the truck and tugged her jacket around her. He stood up as she ascended the porch steps, a mug in his hand.
“You look how I feel,” she said. “There isn’t enough coffee in the world.”
He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. She nearly snuggled up to him, but instead sat down on the swing with him.
“Hey, Mel,” he hollered. “Bring out a cup of coffee for Lorena, would ya’?” The front door was open.
“Okay,” a faint female voice answered back.
“So, I have news,” Lorena said. “Lots of news.”
“Do tell.” He took a sip from his mug and sat back. He slid his arm across the back of the swing, behind her.
She leaned back against it. “They’re sending an expert on Wolvites from DC, and an extermination squad. Today.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’d say that’s good news. At least they’re on it.”
“We were instructed to inform the mayor of the situation, but they still don’t want us raising an alarm.” She slumped. “I’m sorry. Did you guys manage to get the word out?”
“We tried. But like I told you before, people don’t treat us the way they once did. Knocking on doors at daybreak, we got a good bit more annoyance than gratitude. I mean, some folks was concerned, but most…” He shook his head. “I finally made Jack stop. He was fit to be tied. I had him bring me back here. Him and Zeke went to Pam’s for breakfast. Figure Zeke’s mouth will spread the word faster than we ever could on foot.”
“Did you say anything about…the other thing?”
“No, I talked them out of it. Now, I can’t control what they’re saying at the diner, mind.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
The screen door opened. Melanie stepped out, swaddled in a red hoodie. She walked over to the swing, a steaming mug in hand. Her straight brown hair hung thick on her shoulders and over one eye. She held the mug out to Lorena.
“Don’t know if you take cream or sugar,” she said in a soft voice. “I can get you some.”
“No, thank you, this is fine.” Lorena took the mug. “Thank you so much.”
“You two met at the party, didn’t you?” Deacon asked.
“We did.” Lorena smiled at Melanie.
Melanie wrapped her arms around her torso and ducked her head, her hair shielding her face.
“Lorena’s a witch too,” Deacon said.
Melanie glanced out from under her hair.
Lorena chuckled. “I’m not much of a witch.” She wrapped her hands around the warmth of the mug. “I know a lot about it in theory, not so much in practice.”
Melanie looked back down at the porch floor, like a shy child.
“Deacon tells me you and Jack met on a camping trip,” Lorena said. “You’re from Tennessee?”
Melanie lifted her head. “He was with his friends, I was with mine, and we came across each other out in the woods.”
“Sounds romantic. It sounds like a whirlwind romance, too. You moved up here and got married pretty fast?”
A smile tugged at the corner of Melanie’s thin mouth.
“I love stories like that,” Lorena said. “Like meeting Prince Charming.”
Deacon shot her a bemused look. She winked.
“Your grandmother is coming over,” Melanie said to Deacon. “We’re going to try to put the ward up. I better go work on breakfast.”
Deacon snorted. “You don’t gotta try to impress her so hard, Mel.”
Melanie shrugged, and walked back in the house.
“Actually, she kinda does,” he said lowly. “My Grammy is a difficult woman to please.”
“Poor thing, that has to be nerve-racking.” She had never had to impress a man’s family, but she would surely fail.
“I don’t know how a man like Jack took up with a skittish woman like that, don’t seem his type at all. Guess there’s no accounting for love. I hope if her and my Grammy manage to get that ward up together, they might get along better. Witch bonding, and all that. Jack wants a ward up to protect the place, after what happened the other night.”
Lorena sipped her coffee. “I think wards are fascinating, the way they repel animals, even humans, or weather, if they’re strong enough.”
“Maybe you can learn to do them if you read that book I gave you.”
“I’ve been a bit distracted with other things.” She paused. “The help they’re sending in, that’ll probably be the end of my time here. I don’t think Holden and I will have anything to do after today.”
Deacon moved his hand to her shoulder. “Well, I knew you weren’t gonna be camping out here long.”
She should probably say some things, but she wasn’t sure how to turn her half-thoughts into words.
“It’s a might airish out here.” Deacon sat forward. “You wanna go in?”
“Sure.”
The inside of the house was much warmer, even with the door open, the interior spacious and bright, with hardwood floors and lots of elegant furniture.
“This is the house where Jack grew up,” Deacon said. “His Mama and Daddy are a bit on in years and they moved into town, wanted a simpler life. He took over running the farm.”
“I thought it looked too nice for a very recent bachelor.”
He motioned toward a carpeted staircase. “C’mon. I got my own room here.”
He led her upstairs. Everything was clean and glistening, like one of those houses in real estate brochures. Deacon led her into a bedroom at the top of the stairs. Ironically, it was better decorated than Deacon’s bedroom in his house. The big bed was unmade and the room smelled like him. A TV sat in the corner, turned down low, showing a news program. The curtains were open and light filled the room.
“This is a four bedroom house,” Deacon said. “So I got my own room to crash in.” He closed the door, set down his mug, and peeled his jacket and a denim shirt beneath it off. “You gotta be anywhere for a while?”
She set her mug down too. “I promised Holden I’d be back by noon, unless I’m needed before then.” She pulled her jacket off as well.
He gazed at her. “Reckon you could hang out here, then.”
She dropped her jacket in a nearby chair and gazed at him in return. He tossed his jacket and shirt in the same direction. They hit the chair and slid off, onto the floor. He ignored them and strolled toward her. Heat blossomed in her chest.
“This is your cousin’s house.” She kept her voice down. “And his wife is right downstairs.”
He leaned in. “The door locks. And this is my room.”
Their mouths met and her nerve endings lit up. After some fierce kissing, he drew back and gazed at her again. His blue eyes shone in the sunlight.
“It’s still inappropriate,” she whispered, but without much conviction.
He grinned. “No more inappropriate than what we already been doing.”
She glanced at the bed. A double, big enough for both of them. He even had two pillows.
“You’re gonna be gone soon,” he said. “Maybe even tonight.”
He had a point.
“Maybe we should go back to your place,” she suggested.
“It’s such a long way, when there’s a perfectly good bed right here.”
He slid his hands onto her waist and pulled her against him, and suddenly she didn’t care about propriety. Instead, the naughtiness of the situation made it hotter.
He kissed her again. She arched her body against his. He moved his hands down, onto her ass, and squeezed, nearly lifting her off her feet.
He walked her backwards to the bed and they tumbled onto it together. She wiggled, pressing her heel against the floor, and tried to push her boot off. The bed smelled even more like him, like that secret, raw smell she caught when she’d been face-to-groin with him.
“We probably ought to be presentable by the time my Grammy gets here, though.” He tried to push his boots off, too. “We got about forty-five minutes.”
Her boot fell off with a thunk. She worked on the other one. “I think I can be presentable by then.”
They got their boots off and situated themselves properly on the bed. Lorena’s stomach fluttered, not to mention she was desperately horny. Deacon seemed to be in the same state of mind.
They kissed, and groped, and worked their hands under each other’s clothes. His overwhelming masculinity drove her crazy, so big and powerful and right now, all hers for the taking. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled with her, onto his back, so she was on top of him.
She sat up and straddled his hips, and gazed down at him. She was immediately spellbound. He seemed to glow in the morning light, his eyes darkened with lust so they looked like the deep blue evening sky. Something stirred deep inside her, something unnamable and primitive, a sense of connection and possessiveness.
His smile fell away and he gazed back at her, wonder in his expression, as though seeing her for the first time.
The moment stretched out, surreal and breathtaking. Then Lorena broke the spell and toppled forward, and kissed him. He locked his arms around her again and rolled her over once more, to press her into the mattress.
She gripped his hair and he drew back. Then he chuckled as she pushed him off and flipped him back over. She crawled on top him again. She wanted to be in charge.
“Feisty,” he breathed out. “I like it.”
“You haven’t figured that out yet? I’m not here to wrestle, though.”
He grabbed her hips—her waist felt so small under his big hands—and she gasped as he pushed up against her, between her legs. His cock was hard.
She gripped the bottom of her shirt and wiggled it up over her head. She wore a pink bra beneath. She wadded up the shirt and tossed it off the bed.
Deacon focused on her chest. “You like that bra?”
“I do. Do you?” She smoothed her hands over the silky cups.
“I do. I was just asking, cause I’m about to break them straps off it.”
As hot as that idea was, she had only brought one other bra with her.
“Oh no, you don’t.” She reached behind her, bending at the elbows, and undid the clasps, then tossed the bra the way of the shirt. “Better?”
Deacon growled. She had a nice rack, if she did say so herself, ample and firm.
He cupped her breasts. His hands were rough, so much texture against her skin. She clamped her hands over his and encouraged him to squeeze. Sitting there with his hands on her, his cock stiff between her legs, with only a couple thin layers of denim between them made her even more eager. She squirmed and pressed her hips down harder, and he made that growly sound again.
“Get your shirt off too,” she commanded.
He obeyed, arching beneath her as he worked it up and off. His wide chest had a smattering of dark hair, his shoulders looking even broader once bared. His tight abs were the kind of muscle produced via hard work rather than the gym. His darkly tanned skin contrasted against the white sheets.
She moved down his legs. Incensed at the sight of his body, she roughly undid his pants so she could see the rest.
She yanked his jeans and underwear down over his hips and wrapped her fingers around his silky hot cock. It really was big, and thick, like the rest of him. She sank her mouth over it, and this time they didn’t have to worry about being caught and they didn’t have to hurry—not as much, anyway.
Deacon groaned. “Damn, woman.”
She kept a tight grip around the base, and bobbed her head slowly at first, then faster. He filled her hand, and her mouth, made her jaws ache and tickled her gag reflex. He twitched against her tongue and oozed thick fluid across it.
When she popped her mouth off he groaned again, despairing this time. He lifted his head. “I’m hating we never have a whole lot of time for that.”
She wiggled off the bed and got to her feet. He watched transfixed as she undid the button and zipper on her pants. She wore pink panties, too. She pushed both off her hips and down her legs.
He whistled. “Hot damn.”
She grinned and crawled back on the bed, stark naked. He sat up and reached for her.
“Your turn,” he said, low and throaty.
She lay down on her back. He attempted gracelessly to remove his jeans and underwear at the same time, and after some struggle, succeeded.
He stretched out and buried his face between her legs. The velvety hot touch of his tongue made her moan. He knew all the right spots. He lapped, and probed, then lapped again, sending shivers of pleasure down h
er thighs and into her belly. His facial hair brushed against her and created a squirm-inducing friction.
She tried not to make too much noise, mindful they were in someone else’s house. Heat flashed across her skin and made her sweat. She focused on the flicking of his tongue, each swipe edging the tension between her thighs higher and higher. She gripped the back of his head.
Like in the truck, it didn’t take long.
She bit back a cry as the tension broke and tremors rippled through her. He grabbed her hips and plunged his tongue into her as she came. She bucked between the mattress and his face, whimpering.
He growled indulgently and drank her up. She clutched the sheets in both fists.
Slowly, she drifted down from her high, the remnants of the orgasm still making her twitch, until it tapered off and left her in a puddle on the bed.
He kissed up over her stomach and chuckled.
“You almost drowned me there, woman.” He moved higher and nuzzled between her breasts.
“You enjoyed it.”
“Can’t deny that at all.”
He rose off her. She raked her nails lightly down his chest and belly. His cock still needed attention.
“Please tell me you have a condom.” She gazed hopefully at him.
“I’d probably shoot myself right now if I didn’t.”
She settled back on the pillows and he got up. He crossed the room to a dresser and she admired his naked form: tight, toned, hulking, and just downright sexy. He returned with the condom, ripped the packet open, and rolled it on with one hand.
“How you want me?” He stood next to the bed, his hand on his cock like some kind of sex god.
In response, she pulled him down onto his back and crawled on top of him again. As she settled across his hips, he gripped hers and guided her into place. He slipped in smooth and easy.
Her eyelids fluttered. “Oh God.”
She settled against his groin and he filled her, his long thick length buried completely inside her. Her inner muscles twitched as she adjusted to him in her post-orgasmic state.
“That’s so nice.” She moaned. “So big.”