by Eve Langlais
Dream or not, I couldn’t help a frisson of fear. “This isn’t real,” I muttered.
The eyes came closer and a hint of musk, a male scent mixed with something animal-like, came to me. What had my subconscious conjured? I took a step back, the mossy ground underfoot tickling the soles of my bare feet. The eyes drew closer and a shiver swept me, leaving my nipples hard and my skin pebbled.
A low growl rumbled. I couldn’t tell if it was a happy playful one or the I’m-about-to-eat-you variety. Nor did I really care.
Despite all the documentaries I’d watched advising against it, but unable to stop myself, I pivoted and took flight.
At least dream me could run, long-legged strides with barely a stumble, practically a miracle given I couldn’t see two feet in front of me. I don’t know why I thought I could outrun the predator stalking me, a wild creature who didn’t mask his chase as he followed, his hungry snarl encouraging me to lift those knees higher.
Branches whipped my body and snagged at my hair. I ignored those minor discomforts, figuring I would feel a lot worse if whatever chased me managed to catch me and sink the surely big teeth it owned into my skin.
I don’t know how long I ran, but eventually, I emerged from the forest into a starlit clearing. Fronds of tall grass provided no concealment, not for someone my size, and wading through them left a clear path.
And provided a soft landing.
Something slammed into me from behind, and down I went, my scream strangled in my throat as all my breath left me in a whoosh upon impact.
I squirmed and thrashed under the weight atop me, expecting sharp teeth to rip into me. For claws to rend my skin into bloody ribbons. For a certain horrifying and gruesome death.
It took me a moment to realize it wasn’t a hairy beast that pinned me to the ground, but flesh. Hard, heated, naked, and distinctly male flesh—or so I assumed given the distinctive poke against my backside.
A strong hand gripped my wrists and pulled them over my head while another rolled me over until I lay stretched beneath a very masculine shape sporting a massive erection.
Talk about a scary dream taking an interesting turn.
I stopped fighting and took stock of my situation.
Golden eyes peered at me. A heavy body pinned me. A cock throbbed, squished between our bodies, showing carnal intent. I didn’t fully relax until I heard a familiar voice say, “Hey, baby. Fancy running into you here.”
Not enough he’d invaded my life and bed, did he also have to perturb my dreams? “Pete?”
“You know a lot of other werewolves who like to chase you naked in the woods?”
Um no. As a matter of fact, this was the first time anything had ever chased me naked anywhere.
Now that I was over my fear, it was actually kind of stimulating. I relaxed, even wiggled my hips a little to give myself a cheap thrill. My pussy hummed in pleasure, and the eyes watching me turned a deeper gold. “Taking yourself for a walk, were you?” I sassed.
Dark or not, I couldn’t miss the wide grin displaying a mouthful of white teeth with pronounced canines. “More like going on a hunt.”
“A hunt for what?”
He answered with a low chuckle and a grind of his hips. A pleased shudder went through me at the pressure he put against the apex of my mound. “Take a wild guess.”
Too easy. Kind of like the new me. Dream or not, I wanted more than just talk, though. I let my legs part, settling him deeper between them. My nipples tightened as he repositioned himself, the hair of his chest tickling my breasts, the head of his cock nudging at my moist lips. When he didn’t immediately penetrate me, I moaned and wiggled my hips.
His reply? His head swooped down, and he tugged a nub into his mouth.
Sweet heaven. The sensation sent a jolt right down to my pussy. As he sucked and devoured my nipples, I clung to his shoulders, arching my hips, trying to draw his cock into me, but he held off. What a tease! And, yes, it excited me. He played like this for a while, alternately sucking my hard nipples, his teeth grazing them and sending shivers along my nerves. My pussy tightened, hungry for something to fill it.
“Fuck me,” I moaned.
“I want to claim you,” was his reply.
It sounded so possessive, and while the awake Chloe shied from such a thing, dream Chloe craved it. Where was the harm in indulging? “Take me.”
Magic words with immediate result. He flipped me to my stomach and hoisted me to my knees so that my buttocks were up in the air while my upper torso remained pressed to the grassy ground. Exposed to his view, I couldn’t help but moan as he slid a finger down my velvety slit.
“So pretty and wet.”
Try, so fucking horny I could scream.
Thankfully, dream Pete wasn’t going to spend too much time waxing poetic about my girly parts. He sheathed his cock in one quick thrust, impaling me upon his length. I clawed at the ground, my buttocks rotating back in an attempt to draw him deeper.
Large hands gripped the sides of my waist as he withdrew until only the tip of his cock touched me. A whimper of need escaped me then a squeak as he slammed back in.
“Yes,” I hissed as he set up a steady pace of thrusts in and out. “Oh gawd,” I sobbed as he gave my pussy what it needed. A good hard fuck. A pounding. Unbelievable, animalistic pleasure.
A motion to my side drew my attention and I realized we weren’t alone. Before I could scream, a voice spoke from the darkness, “Come for him, Chloe.”
“Anthony?” Indeed it was my blue-eyed lover. From the darkness he floated closer, naked and aroused. Given I dreamed, I didn’t find this the least bit odd, nor did I mind the fact he’d been watching. On the contrary, much like the voyeuristic episode of the morning before, I found it quite titillating.
“She’s so fucking wet and tight,” Pete growled as he continued to pump me.
“Tasty too,” Anthony purred.
Try borderline orgasmic. Hypnotized by the sight of Anthony’s hand working the length of his shaft, I panted and shuddered as my body tightened around Pete’s thrusting cock.
“Harder,” I begged.
“Harder,” Anthony whispered.
Harder Pete slammed.
My orgasm hit and I yelled, my body quaking with the force of it. Pete came in a hot spurt and a roar that made my ears ring and ring and…
Fucking alarm clock. It shrieked me awake, the remnants of my erotic dream still coursing through my sweaty body and evident in the pulsing waves still quaking through my sex.
Awesome. I’d just had my first wet dream. Somehow, the sticky thighs weren’t as sexy as I’d imagined, especially given, climax or not, I felt unfulfilled. Wanting. It seemed only the real thing could leave me feeling sated.
I dragged my butt out of bed, preparing for work while keeping an ear out for the ring of a phone or the beep of a text. Neither happened.
I got to the office a few minutes late and still hadn’t heard from either of my suitors. Jerks.
Where was my sense of relief? I should rejoice they didn’t crowd me and that they gave me some breathing room. Maybe I’d gotten lucky and they had given up altogether. Once again, though, I lived up to my feminine genes and proved my contrary nature.
I moped, feeling forgotten—and unwanted—at least until the huge bouquet of flowers—fake silk ones in deference to my allergies—arrived with a little card. It simply stated, Thinking of you. See you tonight. A.
Yeah, I grinned from ear to ear, unable to help myself. Had I mentioned in the past that I thought flowers were a waste of money? I mean, they died in a few days, contributed to organic waste, which in turn meant increasing my tax dollars to support the disposal of such a frivolous, unneeded item. Of course, that was before I got some. And besides, I consoled myself, these weren’t the real kind. They were beautiful replicas that would last forever, keeping my eco conscience clear.
Every time I looked at them, in my makeshift vase comprised of a stainless steel thermos, which I bough
t for ten bucks off a coworker, I smiled.
Shoot me now. I was acting like such a girl. Brenda and my mom would have beamed in pride.
As for Pete, when I did finally hear from him, it was via the phone. But at first I didn’t expect to hear his voice, not when I saw the call display featuring the police station number. Not unusual given my clients tended to have problems with the law. I wondered who’d screwed up this time.
Boy, did I get a shock.
It seemed my werewolf lover had gotten himself arrested and chosen me as his one allowed phone call. I didn’t find it quite as flattering as the flowers.
“Hey, baby. How are you?”
“How am I? Shouldn’t I be asking that of you? Why are you calling me from the cop station?”
“I’m in a spot of trouble. I need your help, baby.”
“Duh. What did you do this time? And if you tell me you peed on your neighbor’s flowers again, I am going to hang up on you.”
“Um, it’s kind of more serious than that.”
“How serious? Because I don’t really have the patience or time for frivolous pranks.”
“Pretty serious and they haven’t set the bail yet.”
Bail? That didn’t sound promising. “Were you actually arrested?”
“Yes.”
Great. I was dating a jailbird. Way to pick ’em, Chloe. “What are you being charged with?”
“Murder.”
Holy fucking shit. I sat up straight in my chair. “Who are they saying you killed?”
“The witch next door.”
I leaned my forehead against my desk. I felt bad for doing it, but I had to ask. “Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Kill her? No, wait. Don’t answer that. Don’t answer any questions. Tell them you want a lawyer. I’m on my way.”
Guilty or not—although I hoped for not—Pete needed me and I couldn’t say no.
Damn it. Things were about to get complicated. Our involvement meant I should recuse myself from his case and I would, after I figured out what the hell was going on and sprang him from the big house.
For a moment, I contemplated calling Anthony. Just a moment, then I vetoed it. For one, I didn’t need to hear him gloat that his competitor was facing possible prison time. And secondly, I didn’t want to give in to weakness. I didn’t want to rely on Anthony in a crisis. I didn’t want to rely on anyone.
The officers at the station recognized me and only made me sign in before letting me into an interrogation room, one I made sure had its camera turned off and no viewing window.
Even if they couldn’t use anything said in this room against Pete, there was no sense in giving the police leads about where to look for evidence. Assuming, of course, that my werewolf lover was in fact guilty.
I sure hoped not. I’d hate to think I’d slept with a murderer. I wondered what evidence they’d gathered that pinned the death on Pete. I’d yet to hear the details of the crime; the detective in charge of the case was still at the scene of the crime, collecting clues.
The door to the room opened, and Pete shuffled in, cuffs clinking. Made of heavy silver, the wide bands circled his wrists and were linked by a thick chain so that he couldn’t spread his arms. Leading down from his wrist restraints was another length of links, which looped down to the expanse of silver between his cuffed ankles.
The heavy-duty metal combined with the orange jumpsuit, I’m ashamed to say, made me swallow down a frisson of fear. I tried not to let it show on my face, but he looked dangerous. Like a man who could have killed his next-door neighbor. Yet, I knew appearances didn’t mean squat. And this was America.
Innocent until proven guilty. Everyone deserved a fair trial. Yada, yada. That was the motto all lawyers should live by, but my jaded side knew the cops were fairly thorough. They might make mistakes, but when it came to the serious crimes, they tended to cross all their t’s.
I waited until the door shut before speaking. “What happened?”
“To the witch?”
“To you. Her. The whole shebang. Tell me everything and don’t leave a single detail out.”
“Shouldn’t the first question you ask be did I do it?”
The query I dreaded. Or was it the answer I feared?
Could the man who’d touched me so intimately actually be guilty of the crime? Had I slept with a murderer?
“Did you kill her?” I stared him in the eyes, wishing I owned a lie detector other than just my gut instinct.
He met my gaze steadily. “I did not kill her.” He didn’t hesitate or look away or do anything to indicate he said anything but the truth.
Perhaps it made me gullible, but I believed him. I sensed a weary resignation in him, as if he didn’t expect anyone to take his side. But before I threw myself into his camp, I needed to find out more.
“If you didn’t do it, then why do the cops think you did?”
“Because, apparently, when they found her, the body appeared as if a wild animal had torn it apart.”
Ouch. “And they blamed you.” I didn’t phrase it as a question.
He nodded.
“On what grounds?”
“I’m a werewolf, and the moon was full last night.”
“Oh.” Uh-oh. Double, triple uh-oh. Given he’d just come up on charges of harassment, misdemeanors or not, I could see why they might assume him responsible. “Start from the beginning. What did you do after you left me yesterday?”
“I hit my gym for a few hours to work out. I had some pent-up tension that needed attending.” A ghost of his boyish smile lifted his lips. There one second, gone the next. “After my shower, I did some groceries. Caught up on some laundry. Had a nap.”
“Sounds like an exciting day.”
“Well, it would have been if someone hadn’t needed some alone time.”
Sure, blame me for his lack of alibi.
“What about last night? Who did you spend it with?” If he said another woman, I’d walk out. “Did you meet up with some other Lycans, or did you change into your furball self alone?”
I’d read that many werewolves enjoyed sticking together. They called themselves packs. But I also knew, or so rumor said, that dominant males who didn’t rule these so-called furry gangs tended to be loners.
Even among animals, too much testosterone in one place never boded well. Pete definitely struck me as the kind of guy who wouldn’t take orders from another. Hell, he probably owned a T-shirt that stated, Does not play well with others. I know I did, in bright pink. A present from Brenda.
“I’m afraid I turned shaggy by myself. As usual. I just did my regular thing. Drove to the state park just outside the city. It’s a great spot for a run. No hunting allowed, few humans to freak out. I stripped down, changed, and ran until just before dawn. When I got home, the cops were waiting for me. They arrested me on sight.”
“You didn’t resist?”
He snorted. “Yeah, like I’m going to argue with half a dozen trigger-happy cops toting guns with silver bullets. I hit the ground with my hands over my head as soon as they ordered me to.”
“Good.” Cooperation was a point in his favor. The guilty liked to run. “When did you find out what happened?”
“The detective in charge told me they were arresting me for the murder of one Meredith Heksen. I asked who that was and that’s when I found out it was my neighbor.”
“You didn’t even know her name?”
“Why would I? She called me dirty dog; I called her witch. We never made it to the first name stage.”
“So, then what?”
“They read me my rights as they cuffed me. Shoved me into the back of a car and brought me here to arraign me. And, let me tell you, they are thorough. I will never look at latex gloves the same.” He shuddered.
I bit back a hysterical giggle. He probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but having read the procedurals for a typical body search, which now included a cavity one, I could understand his discomfort.
“Have they questioned you yet?”
“They tried. I told them I didn’t do anything. That I was gone all night and never saw her. When they started hammering me with questions, I demanded my phone call and a lawyer.”
“And called me.” I slumped. “You do realize I can’t represent you.”
“Because we slept together? So what? You’re the one I trust. I want you as my lawyer.”
“The state will never go for it. Public defenders must not have a personal relationship, current or prior, with their clients.”
“So I’ll hire you privately.”
“I can’t just quit my job to work for you.” His shoulders sagged and he turned soulful brown eyes on me. “And don’t you dare use those puppy dog eyes on me.”
He grinned. “It was worth a try.”
“This is not a time to joke. This is a serious accusation. You know the laws are harsh to those of your kind who harm humans.” As in, an eye for an eye. Kill a human and get found guilty? There was no appeal.
“I didn’t do it.”
“But we need to prove that. With no alibi to account for your whereabouts, we’re going to have to rely on the autopsy report and DNA tests. If we’re lucky, whatever did kill her will have left traces behind. Hair. Saliva.” A wallet with photo ID.
“What if they don’t find anything?”
“Let’s cross that bridge if we reach it.”
“How long until we know?”
“Hours. Days. Weeks. It all depends on the backlog.” And the priority given to the case. Given the media jumped all over anything to do with the Lycans, I figured they had a rush on the tests.
“I hate waiting.”
“Join the club.”
“So what do we do in the meantime?”
“We?”
“Yes, we. You are going to help me prove my innocence, right?” Puppy dog eyes had nothing on those of a man who’d given you numerous orgasms who looked at you as if his whole world rested in your hands. In a sense, it did. Damn him for chipping away at my cold heart.
A heavy sigh blew past my lips. “Of course I will. Lucky for you, they don’t know,” yet, “that we’ve slept together, so I’ll get the paperwork started on your bail. Any idea when you are going in front of the judge?”