The Werewolf Prince and I

by Marian Tee

  He allowed himself another smile.

  She was a delight to toy with, and surely she would be more so when they finally had the chance to play the same games in bed. Or anywhere else he would feel the urge to undress Misty’s lovely body, drown himself in her shy but addictive kisses, fondle her wondrously generous breasts, and sink his cock in her heat.

  He savored the thought, getting hard just by imagining the moans and whimpers that would come out of her lovely mouth as she pleaded more from his cock. He wondered how it would be to have his cock inside that mouth. He imagined Misty’s tiny pink tongue swirling around the head with an inexperience that would be a sensual torture in itself. Then he would sink his fingers in her hair, pulling her head closer so she would learn to take more of him in---

  Shit.

  Domenico changed, using the lightning-quick transformation to kill his erection. Now was no time to let his cock rule his brain, not when danger lurked so close.

  Chapter Four

  Red-eyed and sniffing, I mumble my thanks to Domenico Moretti’s chauffeur as I step out of the limousine. The twins are at the sidewalk, curiosity written all over their faces.

  “Are you crying?” Kelly gasps, looking down at me in horror because she’s my sister and she’s also a couple of inches taller than me.

  “Sweet ride,” Kevin says at the same time then adds belatedly, “I mean, are you okay, Misty?”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “I, umm, just got sacked.” I know it’s not true, but I’ve just made up my mind. I’m going to resign tomorrow. I don’t think I can last another day at Moretti Inc. after this. I’ll always remember being made a fool by its CEO, the fracking jerk.

  I pretend to brush my hair off my face so I can wipe the tears away from my eyes.

  We all pretend my ploy is working.

  When I’ve recovered myself sufficiently, I say brightly, “So, why are you two---” My voice trails off as I remember the answer to my question.

  “What are we going to do?” Kelly starts biting her fingernails, which currently flaunt the colors of Brazil.

  She’s the most emotional of all of us. It’s another reason I think the twins are Italian. And Kelly totally loves pizza, too, so there.

  Squeezing her shoulder reassuringly, I say, “We won’t let her adopt another one so don’t worry, okay?”

  Kevin snorts. “I hate to pi---rain on your parade, but how exactly do you plan on stopping Nanette from doing that?”

  I belatedly notice he’s already in his nurse uniform. “Let me worry about that. You should just go to class. You can’t afford to be late anymore.” Kevin works in a nearby grocery during the day, but lately he’s gotten in trouble in school because of the hours he’s been spending working overtime.

  “Don’t worry about it. I get this all figured out.” Not. But they don’t have to know that.

  Kevin’s eyes bore through me. “You haven’t a clue about what you’re going to do, have you?”

  “Of course I have. I’ve decided that…” Inspiration strikes and I finish winningly, “I’ve decided that we are going to prove to Nanette she won’t get away with this anymore. We’re going to ignore the baby and let her do all the work until she gives up and return it to Social Services.”

  The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. “Yes, that’s it. We’ll ignore the baby.”

  Kevin’s flabbergasted. And that’s an understatement. He rakes a hand through his rather longish dark brown hair, exclaiming, “That’s it?”

  “Trust me,” I insist. “It’s going to work.”

  “It’s not going to work,” Kevin bursts out. “And you know why? It’s because you’re a sucker for emotional blackmail!”

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m 99% sure Kevin was right.

  All six of us are in the living room, which actually doubles as the dining room as well. If you have to be technical about it, the area also serves as the kitchen. Andy is crying, and Nicole’s trying to hush him. Kelly’s lips are trembling but she does her best to distract herself by staring at the TV, which is tuned to SpongeBob.

  The wails of the infant continue to punish me. It’s been fifteen minutes since the baby started crying. Kevin doesn’t stop glaring at me, his way of keeping me glued to my seat.

  Nanette doesn’t say a word but the smug look on her face says it all.

  If you give the baby back to Social Services, do you really think its life is going to get better?

  Do you think people would pick him up the moment he starts crying?

  Can your conscience bear turning your back on this poor little soul?

  The baby’s cries turn hoarse.

  I lose the battle of wills.

  “I’m sorry!” I run to the crib at the opposite side of the room, tears in my eyes.

  I am such a wimp.

  I cradle the baby close, making soft and soothing noises while ignoring Kevin’s heartfelt groan at the same time.

  “I’m off to Social Services.” Nanette’s almost singing her words out. There’s even a spring to her step, which is saying a lot since she’s gained almost a hundred pounds since she adopted me fourteen years ago. She fluffs her hair, cut in a stylish bob that would have looked pretty if she was two decades younger. “I may be home late so do save me some for dinner, okay?”

  When the door closes behind her, Kevin growls, “Misty.”

  “I know,” I say miserably. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” I look down at the baby, and for a moment I just see rows and rows of numbers instead of his cute face. Baby food never comes cheap, but you can’t put infants in a South Beach diet. Diapers cost a fortune, but infants don’t get potty-trained until they’re maybe two or three.

  I want to kick myself. Now I feel such an idiot for asking Domenico Moretti for a public performance of his virility when I could have access to his bank account. Shick. Would I have changed my mind if I knew this would happen? If I’m honest with myself – no. Shick.

  When Kevin leaves for class, we divide baby care duties among the three of us while Andy plays with the baby. I frown, momentarily distracted. I’ve forgotten to ask Nanette about the baby’s name.

  “I’m home first so I’ll care for the baby until Kelly gets back,” Nicole says.

  “Have Andy help you when you have homework to do,” I say.

  We don’t even include Nanette in the equation. Been there, done that, and I have the faint green line on Andy’s forehead as a painful reminder of why trusting Nanette to look after a baby is a huge mistake. Andy had his first stitches when he was just 18 months old.

  Everyone says I’m so nice, but they don’t know that sometimes I hate Nanette so much I want to kill her.

  It’s almost eleven when I get everyone settled down. With Kevin back home, I feel it would be safe enough to leave for a quick jog around the block.

  “Can’t you just go for a run tomorrow? It’s kind of late,” Kevin says while I carefully lay the baby down on his bed. Since he’s studying for his midterms tomorrow, I don’t feel like I’m imposing when I temporarily delegate babysitting duties to him.

  “You know I’m not a morning person.” Bending down to make sure my shoelaces are tightly knotted, I study my sneakers morosely for a second. It’s worse for the wear, and I’ve promised myself I’ll have a new pair next month. But with the baby? It would be more practical not to jog next month unless I want to risk coming back home in my socks. This Adidas baby of mine is already on its dying days.

  Kevin sighs. “Stun gun?”

  I pat my pocket. “Ready and loaded.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Take care. I’ll call you every five minutes.”

  Kevin is true to his word, like he’s always is since he got out of rehab. He rings every five minutes. I reject the call and ring him back. You can’t be too safe in this neighborhood.

  Jog is really the most accurate term to describe what I do when I want to organize my thoughts. I don’t run. I hate running. I’m no athlete, and I tir
e so easily I’m already catching my breath after one flight of stairs. Kelly’s the athlete in the family. Okay, she’s the cheerleader but I say that’s a sport since it’s featured in ESPN.

  I’m halfway around the block when I realize someone’s been following me – and doing nothing to conceal the fact. I turn around, and it’s all I get to do before a streak of brown flashes before my eyes.

  Instincts I don’t even know I possess kick in. I catch a glimpse of black eyes and jab them with my fingers. My attacker howls.

  Shick.

  A dog – no, a wolf – no, a werewolf.

  I’m absolutely sure of it.

  Finally managing to pull out my stun gun, I zap it once, twice, as many times as I can. The werewolf’s body falls into the ground with a heavy thud.

  My phone rings. I scramble to answer it, but shiny silver nails swipe it away. Another werewolf?

  SHIT! Surely no one’s going to argue against me and say that this moment doesn’t call for a real cuss word.

  The werewolf makes another swipe, dislodging the stun gun out of my hand before I can press the trigger. I stare at it in horror. Is this it for me?

  Then a third werewolf comes out of nowhere, nails slicing into the side of the brown werewolf in front of me. Its nails are sharp and long, enough for them to go through my attacker’s body, its tips protruding from the other side. The nails retract, coming out with a heart pierced between them.

  The werewolf – the good one - throws the heart on the ground with another howl.

  Midnight black fur and green eyes.

  “Domenico?” I whisper. Now, it just feels natural to call him that. All the time we’ve been in his office, talking and making out, I wasn’t able to make myself say his name. It didn’t feel right. Now, I know why. Finally, I could get past the fact that he’s the larger-than-life CEO in the company I work in, a guy who’s so sexy and gorgeous women all over the world have wet dreams about him. This time I feel a connection with him, a bond that’s strong enough it to give me the right to call him by his name.

  It takes a second for Domenico to change back.

  “Are you all right?” He brushes the hair from my face, which sweat has glued to my skin. The air is sticky around us in its humidity but Domenico’s sudden presence makes me feel I’m in an inferno of his making.

  I nod.

  “You were wonderfully brave, cara.”

  “You saw me?” I start to frown when he nods and I realize the implications of it. “You let me fight it when you could have helped me?”

  An implacable look settles on his sinfully handsome face. “I will die protecting you, Misty, but there will be times when I won’t be by your side and danger will find you instead. I wanted you to find the strength you’ve always had inside you to fight back.”

  His words make sense, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling a little hurt. In a way, it’s like a parent letting a baby stumble a few times until he – she – learns to stand. So, yes, I get it, I really do, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

  “You’re so cold,” I blurt out.

  He stiffens. “Are you saying ‘no’ then?”

  I shrug helplessly. “I don’t---”

  Domenico suddenly picks me up, taking me with him as he lopes into one of the shadowy corners of the street with the kind of speed that leaves my mouth hanging. When he finally stops, I don’t think more than a few seconds have passed.

  “Dome---” The rest of his name is consumed into his kiss.

  He cups my face and kisses me so deeply my entire body is forced back until I hit the wall behind me. Domenico follows, and when his body slams onto mine I realize dizzily he’s naked.

  Moaning in surrender, I haul him close, kissing him back with almost wild abandon. Again, I lose all common sense in his arms. I forget that we’re in a public place, forget that we’ve just been involved ina fight, and I even forget at how impossibly cold he could be.

  All I care about is the fact that I’m back in his arms and he’s hot for me. Still hot for me.

  A little shriek escapes my lips when he lifts me up so high that I instinctively wrap my legs around him. He nuzzles my necks before nipping my shoulder, hard enough to make my body jerk, my head falling back against the wall.

  Domenico starts rocking against me, and with every thrust it’s as if he’s pressing his erection against my heat more strongly. Harder.

  “Domenico.” I can’t stop saying his name.

  “You have to marry me, Misty.” He growls into my ear just as his fingers slide inside my panties and trace the quivering flesh hidden in it.

  “I won’t allow you to say no.” Without warning, he shoves his fingers inside me.

  Not just one or two but three, all of a sudden, and the combined thickness of his fingers makes me scream, as loudly as I can.

  It should have hurt, but it doesn’t. I’m so wet for him my body has melted into liquid heat, my mind shutting down at the sheer pleasure of his penetration.

  “Say. Yes.” He emphasizes each word with a thrust of his fingers.

  “Aaah.” I can only pant in answer.

  “Misty,” Domenico growls.

  How can he expect me to make coherent sense? The thrust of his fingers creates such an exquisite form of pleasure all I can do is shake my head side to side as I struggle to raise my hips and meet the downward slide of his fingers.

  “Shit,” Domenico mutters just before he kisses me again, even more deeply than the first time. His tongue swoops inside my mouth, its aggressive movement matching the increasing speed of his thrusts.

  “Come for me, cara,” he rasps when he lets go of my bruised lips.

  “I can’t!” But already I can feel myself trembling, the rough tone of his words only serving to inflame me more.

  My werewolf prince commands, and my body strains to follow.

  Domenico bites my lower lip. Then he pulls back, his intense green eyes locking with mine. “Give yourself to me.” His thumb presses against that extra sensitive nub of flesh.

  I shatter.

  Domenico manages to push his fingers in further, intensifying my orgasm. I can only wrap my legs more tightly around his waist as my body doesn’t stop quivering at the onslaught of pleasure. When it’s over, I’m limp in his arms, but Domenico carries my full weight with ease. I don’t even feel his muscle tense as I grow heavy in utter exhaustion.

  “You’re mine now,” he whispers.

  I can’t find the energy to answer.

  An eternity later, Domenico slowly lets me slide down to my feet.

  I murmur my protest when he gently disentangles my arms around his neck. I would have been embarrassed about how clingy I suddenly am if my mind still isn’t busy replaying the last few minutes. There’s enough time later to be embarrassed.

  Domenico kisses my forehead, and I feel him smiling against my skin. “I have to let you go, cara. Your brother is coming.”

  I blink.

  When I open my eyes again, he’s vanished into the night and I hear footsteps approaching.

  “Misty?” Kevin sounds distressed.

  And I…

  I think I look disheveled.

  In a way that I don’t ever want my brother to know.

  Hastily rearranging my clothes, I run out of the alley before Kevin gets to me. One sniff and I’m out. Right now, you don’t need a werewolf’s sense of smell to figure out what just happened.

  “What happened?” Kevin demands almost angrily, but I know it’s his anxiety talking. Barefoot and shirtless, he seems to have run straight out of his room the moment he realized I wouldn’t be returning his call.

  For a moment, I mourn the loss of my phone. Why couldn’t have that darn werewolf attack me next month? Or better yet the month after? I can’t afford to replace my mobile phone right now, not with the baby entering our lives.

  “Misty?”

  Kevin’s alarmed tone stops me from dwelling further on my growing list of expenses. “I’m okay
,” I assure him. And though I feel that I really am, my voice becomes shrill at the end.

  “You’re not okay,” he accuses. “Did you get attacked?”

  “Yes, but they’re gone now.”

  “They?”

  Shick. I really have to start thinking before I open my big fat mouth. Kevin looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. “I’m okay, Kev. I’m really okay. I managed to use the stun gun.”

  Kevin fumbles for something inside his pocket. “My heart almost stopped beating when I saw this lying in the road. Did you get them good?”

  Nodding, I take the stun gun from him. I think I’m going to buy another, just for good measure.

  “We should file a police report,” he says grimly.

  “Umm, no. I don’t think that’s necessary.” My lying skills are so-so, but they’re definitely not at a level that I can get away with perjury.

  “Those bastards could still be around!”

  “They didn’t get a good look at me.” This kind of lie, I’m pretty good at. Giving him a rueful smile, I say, “And I don’t think I have it in me to jog alone again for quite some time. After what’s happened.” This one’s the truth, though.

  “If you’re sure,” Kevin says with a doubtful look at my now-just-slightly-disheveled state. “What did they do to you? Did they---”

  A look of horror crosses his face, and I instantly get what he isn’t able to say.

  “No. God, no, don’t think that. I mean it. I’m not lying.” I can’t say the words fast enough. Kevin already has more than enough hang-ups because of what (almost) happened to Kelly in the orphanage. I don’t want him to go back to rehab a second time because he thinks he’s failed to protect me.

  “You swear?”

  “I’m still a virgin,” I say instead, just so I could make him smile.

  I half-accomplish my goal when Kevin makes a puking sound. “Gross, Misty. TMI.”

  I ruffle his hair, even if it means I have to tiptoe to do it. “You came here fast enough, that’s what’s important.”

  “I’m still grossed out.”

  “Shut up.”

  We argue good-naturedly, absently, all the way back. We’re standing in front of the house when I realize what I forgot to ask. “The baby?” I demand, fearing he’s left the baby all alone in his haste to get to me.