by Carys Weldon
All in all, it didn’t look too bad. I relaced the corset, making it tie at the top. Thought it looked cute that way.
Hardly fifteen hundred dollars worth, but I was pissed, and knew I’d just give her name and address to Leo later. I mean, no big deal. Right? She fucked me. So, fuck her. Leo would handle it, like he always did. And if Tommy needed to come around, and clean up after that? C’est la vie. She brought it on herself.
By then, night was in swing again. I wondered where she got off to, but didn’t really care, if that makes sense. I wanted a drink. My throat felt parched. I left.
There were TVs on in the window, behind metal gates, at the corner. Passing that, I saw the news report on the pharmacy slaying. Had to stop to watch, see the covered bodies, count. Glad to see there were three. Two cops and a clerk.
Felt numb. Wondered very briefly where Leo and Tommy were.
A bus going by made me think that I needed to move away. I’d lingered too long near the stop. In fact, I looked over my shoulder, a little surprised that my brothers hadn’t caught up with me already. Surely they’d sniffed my trail to the bus stop by then?
You have to know that I thought it would be funny if they traced me to a hooker’s pad, found my number nine to be a woman. Wouldn’t that have sent them over the edge?
I was ready for something different. It was an itch deep inside. I’d tried everything, pretty much. And hadn’t been satisfied.
Only...I obviously wasn’t up to the chica when she made her move. I filed that scene away for later pondering.
Believe me, I felt restless, almost anxious. Tired of waiting for whatever it was I was looking for. Thought about going home. Seriously asked myself if that wasn’t where my issues all came from.
Did I want to be with Daddy, Tommy, Leo?
Honestly, I knew that I didn’t want to be with Daddy. That’s too weird to call a man that and sleep with him. And I knew he would just be thinking about my Mama. I swear, he’s still in love with her. Wish I knew where she was. Probably dead.
That left Tommy and Leo. Oh, I toyed with them all. But it just made me feel bad to think of all that. I knew I had to get out, give them some peace.
Can you ever find that, though?
I managed to ignore two bars before I heard some music that sucked me in. Nothing like The Dive, or The Cat’s Meow. No color. Black lights. Blue glow. Dark shadows. Headbanging music, though. Went with the thumping I already had going on.
Peering around the place, I wondered who I could sweet talk for a drink. Several shouldered away from me. Didn’t like my kind. I could tell that pretty easy. I didn’t let it bother me. There’s racists wherever you go.
But one guy, at the far end of the bar, tipped his nose in my direction the minute I peeked in the door. He watched me with narrowed lids, flicked a cigarette, pulled it to his lips and took a big, puffy draw on it, then stubbed the thing out, got up, dropped some cash and headed right toward me. Gaze intent.
Wet drizzled between my legs. I felt the moisture forming.
I’m not kidding. I took one look at him and thought Fuck me.
There was a grace about him--something most dogs don’t have, in my opinion. But he was bulky, boxy built. Bulldog style. Broad chest, heavy limbs.
He adjusted himself without breaking stride, and I noted that there was a bulge in his pants like I’d never seen before. So, yeah, I liked what I saw, the differences in him, had an instant urge to experience it. Thought Oh, hell yeah. There’s my nine. Drooled that in my head.
Figured, what the hell? I mean, he didn’t look dangerous. Not really. Had that easygoing hound persona going on. Huggable teddy bear? His eyes lit up with appreciation, more and more, the closer he got. And I saw his nostrils flatten, taking in my personal fragrance. That made him narrow his lids, glance toward my crotch.
Made me wetten up a little more down there. Smile. Look him up and down some more. Couldn’t help but linger over, well, you know.
Gaia.
It couldn’t be as big as it looked, could it? I had an urge to check that package. You know, just a quick grope. See for myself.
I knew one thing. He was not getting past me without that, at the very least. Remember...I expected Tommy and Leo soon. I never contemplated the possibility that any man would want to hurt me. Besides my own family--and they’d shown themselves to be remarkably restrained on that, so I pretty much figured all men had control. Yeah, for all my experience, I had been way sheltered. But that’s my story.
Talk about biting off more than you can chew.
Planting my feet, blocking his path, I waited for him. He’d have to run me over or talk to me. It had always worked for me in the past.
He came right up to me, stopped, and I looked him in the eye, daring him to say something. Since he wasn’t smiling, I dropped mine, the closer he got. I knew he liked what he saw. Men like attitude pussy; I don’t care what you say.
He was hulking big. Hunka-lineback shoulders, thick, thick limbs, wide neck. Rusty-colored hair. Light brown eyes. Thin lips. He smelled like booze, menthol, and...something canine. I watched him flatten his nostrils again, smelling me, I’m sure. He took his time about it, too. Tipped his nose and eyes right at my center being.
Saw his whole chest heave as he held in the scent of me. Probably committed it to memory.
Wondering aloud, he asked, “What’s a bastet doing in garou-ville?” A totally common line.
I know it was edgy and maybe a little stupid, but I quipped back with some eye fluttering, “What’s a dog doing without a leash?”
His eyes darkened, but he thought it was funny. His lips turned a little at the corners. Searching my eyes, trying to decide what to do with me, I suspected, he said, “Looking for a keeper, maybe.”
“Aah.” I sounded disappointed. But really, I was trying to figure out if he meant he wanted someone to keep him, or someone he could keep. Either way, it was the most clever comeback I’d heard in a long time.
He leaned close and asked, “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
I wanted to get his tongue. I flicked mine out, licked my lips, just to show him that it was loose enough. Gave him a grin and lift of my eyebrows, then bit down on my lower lip. Bold invitation if ever there was one.
Apparently he liked that. Before I could argue the point, he pulled me into his arms, and kissed me. Made me swoon and cling. Seized me.
Lots of tongue. Damn. He was about the best kisser I had ever experienced.
No. He was absolutely the best kisser I had ever experienced. Fucking dog tongue. Reached right down inside of me and licked my heart, I think, because my chest squeezed up on me and all coherent thought slipped from my brain.
He surprised me, picked me up by the waist and turned me in the middle of the kiss, setting me back down behind him. I never even realized it. Until he let go and walked out. Left me facing the door, watching his ass. Holy heaven. Talk about a tight backside.
It took me a couple of seconds to stop reeling, suck my tongue back into my mouth, and chase after him. Just enough to call out. “Hey!”
He hesitated. I saw him pause mid-step, then keep going.
That had me yelling, “I said...hey!” When he didn’t respond to that, I yelled louder, “Son of a bitch!”
Pretty much everyone within hearing turned to look at me then. But it got his attention. He spun on his heels, came back to me and grabbed my arm. Dragging me into the shadows of a deep doorjamb, so people would stop staring, he asked through gritted teeth, “You just trying to get yourself killed?”
I yanked free. “No.” I don’t know which irritated me more...the fact that he’d walked away from me and ignored me when I’d called to him, or the latest insult. I grumbled. “You are, you know.” A son of a bitch. Right? Dog. You know his mother was.
He put his hands on his hips and glared at me. “As pretty as you are, you got a mouth on you.”
I batted my lashes. I knew I was a good kisser. He knew I
was a good kisser. So I said, “And I know how to use it. You got a problem with that?”
“No.” He pulled me into his arms again, kissing me senseless some more.
You could say there was a chemistry begging to be mixed from the moment we laid eyes on each other. Total taboo. But I was looking for trouble, and I’d found it.
And maybe he was too. I mean, he’d been down in the lane, spending time.
You have to ask yourself...was that destiny?
I lost myself in him the minute he put his mouth on mine. Couldn’t squeeze up to him enough. Moaned like a whore-cat.
He would have had to be a saint to let go of that.
His heart beat steady, strong, thrummed, but mine raced. Adrenalin zipped through me. I wanted to climb up into his arms and purr. In fact, I know I started to--right before he set me away from him again.
“You,” he said, “need to climb into a cab and go right back where you came from.”
I grunted. That was not the response I’d been hoping for. I brassed my eyes at him. Let them glow with irritation.
Squinting at me, he asked, “Have we met before?”
In his dreams.
That made me laugh. “Hardly. Do I look like I hang out with--”
He put a finger to my lips, shut me up fast with an “Ah!” The minute he went to move it, I tried to talk again, but he repeated the finger and the “Ah! Don’t say it.”
It was obvious he was trying to place me, or the familiarity, but I would have remembered him. Even messed up, my recall is almost perfect. I only pretend not to remember things. I find it works out better for me in the long run if I don’t cop to everything I do.
“I’ll figure it out. Later.” He jerked his jaw a little, stretched his neck, and asked, “What’s your name?”
I countered with, “What’s yours?”
He flashed a grin. “Bark.”
I laughed. “You’re kidding. Right?”
“Barklay.”
“Oh. That’s priceless.” Pushing it, I asked, “So you bark if I lay you?”
Grimly, he gritted, “No. I bite. I howl. I make you sorry you ever thought of it.”
That intrigued me. I didn’t mind a little pain. I mean, life hurt. Everything ached. Maybe it would ease that problem I’d been having?
Looking him up and down, I tried to figure out how dangerous he really was. He talked tough, but he didn’t look so bad. I mean, all I could really think was how appealing he was. And my curiosity about his manhood was starting to get to me.
“You got something going on,” I said, “but I can’t figure out what it is.”
He pulled out his smokes, lit up, watched me the whole time, never offered me one. I wrinkled my nose at him. He was a true dog, in some respects. I thought he was fucking cool.
His gaze lingered over the lace-ups on my top, then really narrowed when they settled, again, on the way the pants sliced me up the middle. They weren’t indecent, exactly, but they certainly outlined my features with some hip-hugging accuracy.
After a snorting draw on his cig, he said, “You’re gonna get raped down here.” He blew it out.
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
Chapter Two
Promise or threat. I know it sounded cliché. Rape me, my ass. You can’t rape the willing, can you?
He didn’t miss a beat, though, in saying, “Promise.” And adding, “A pretty little tail like you, wandering in the lane...people are gonna assume you’re looking for it.”
“People die for assuming things.” I pulled my shoulders back. “Some cats don’t mess around.” I don’t know why I sounded like I was hard to get. Or that I’d put up a fight. Maybe, suddenly, I wanted to be different?
I know one thing, I didn’t like the speculation in his eyes, like he’d pegged me the way I’d pegged Ali. It made me uncomfortable, and a little snitty. I wanted to reach out and put a claw in him, make him shut up.
Make him kiss me again. But then he said, “Some cats don’t have enough sense to stay out of places they don’t belong,” and I didn’t want to kiss him.
I snarled, “You know, you garou need to stop thinking you own the world.” Spinning to walk away, I muttered, “Stupid ass son of a bitches.”
He yanked me back by the scruff of my neck. Well, the collar of my jacket. Right up against his chest, and, with a really low, and dangerous growl, he said, “I’m taking you home.”
I clawed a little bit, but he had me, pure and simple, by the fact that he was bigger than me. I knew I couldn’t crinos on him right there on the street, and he knew it, too.
Crinos: shapeshifted form between my natural cat and human. Definitely something you don’t want to meet in the dark.
Truth was, I started to shift without thinking, and twisting in his arms, letting my claws out, and a few squeals. But he tossed me up against the door. And, in his own half-crinos, he postured over me--nailing my wrists above me, skewering me with some seriously deadly eyes. With a curled lip, he said, “Don’t push me, cat. I’ll fucking eat you alive, right here.”
So, okay. That had my heart going a mile a minute, and me thinking, shit.
But I’m totally impressed. I mean, I sliced him a few times. That usually makes guys let go.
Worse, I could tell he was turned on by my little fighting act. Only, it wasn’t an act. I was sneaking glances left and right, thinking about how to get away. See if he’d chase me. I like cat and mouse games.
He must’ve read my mind. Fucking garou are brainiacs. Always trying to get into your head. The minute I felt him probing that way, I kneed him. Damn if he didn’t have a stump between his legs. Didn’t hardly even move. Oh, he made a noise, an “Oomphf”, but he didn’t let go of me. Just said, “Careful, puss. I might like that.”
“Stop calling me names,” I hissed.
He thought that was funny. Hoarsely chuckled. “So tell me what you like to be called. Hellcat?”
I debated on saying yeah to that. It sounded good, tough, like it deserved a little respect. Before I could answer, he scrutinized me a little harder and asked, “What are you? A cougar?”
Like I said, bastet come in all forms of cat. All colors of the rainbow. He’d guessed it in one, so I shrugged and said, “Good guess.” It wouldn’t have been so easy for him if my hair had been another color.
“This is what gives it away.” He touched the skin of my belly, right below my navel. Soft velvet. I wanted to purr instantly. But he checked that thought by tucking his fingers inside the waistband of my pants and tugging hard, which drew the seam right up into my crotch, made me grunt.
Insulting him, I asked, “What’s that make you? A hound?”
His eyes blazed and there in the dark, I got a glimpse of the wolf he was. Full freaking canus lupus. He let his nose out, showed me some fang.
In the face of that, you have only a few choices. Wet your pants. Cringe. Claw. Or pretend it doesn’t mean shit. So, I smiled and said, “Hm. I would’ve figured you for a spaniel.”
Real tightly, he said, “Not even close.”
The thing with men in general is...you gotta keep surprising them. It doesn’t matter what breed or what race they are. I said, “Good,” stretched my tongue out and licked his jaw.
He blinked and pulled back. Dropped me fast.
I tugged my shirt down, kind’ve pushed him, so I could get a little breathing space. It wasn’t like he stepped away, really, but he gave me an inch or two. He couldn’t figure me out, I think. And that’s probably why he was hanging around. At least, that’s what I thought.
It surprised me when he let out a piercing whistle. I winced and reached up, covering my ears. Five seconds maybe, a sedan pulls up to the curb. So, yeah, that tells me something. He’s not just some ordinary dog on the street. He didn’t give me any more discussion, or any choices. He put me in his car.
I crawled to the other side of the seat, wondering where the hell Leo and Tommy were, knowing they’d follow my trail to th
e bar, and the doorway. But now...?
“I’m taking you home,” he told me.
“Mine or yours?”
“Yours. Where do you live?”
Clamming up, I wrapped my arms around myself and looked out the window. Daddy would not be happy with me if I showed up in a garou-mobile. He would kill me for that.
“Look. I don’t want a fight.”
I thought he meant with me, but he was talking about a full-scale war between families.
“So, let’s not fight. Take me to your place.”
The driver sat patiently, eyes straight ahead. Barklay threw his head back, closed his eyes and I think counted to ten. That reminded me that I was only up to eight, and I’d promised myself at least a nine. I sidled right up to him, slid a leg over his and before he knew what hit him, I had my hand down atop his manhood, asking, “Show me what you’ve got.”
Yeah, I was purring, nuzzling his neck, letting my tongue out a little.
I’m quick. Thought you knew that. Grab them by the balls or the stick, they’ll follow you anywhere--probably come in your hand. Certainly not turn you down. They want that, you know. Men play grab ass because that’s what they crave. I just play their game. It’s fun. Try it.
He would have set me off of him, probably, if I hadn’t taken a firm grip. That’s the trick. I’m sure it felt good to him, because he groaned and let me massage through the fabric. That emboldened me. Before long, I was kissing him full out. And he was kissing me back.
One more pussy victim. The thought skipped through my brain.
He’d probably been skimming and not liked that thought because suddenly, he had me pressed onto the seat and took control, pushing my hand off of him, screwing me with our clothes on. I tried scrambling out from under him, but he was too heavy, too persistent, not taking my gasping, squirming squeals for what they were.
That’s when I noticed the roughness growing on his cheeks and the growling coming from deep in. I pried at his shoulders, but remember? He’s built like some kind of army tank. My efforts were totally ineffective. Even when I went to smack-thumping his shoulders, yelling, “Stop!”