Werewolf Journals 01 - Wild in the City

by Camille Anthony

  After loosening her clenched stomach muscles and releasing the one-handed death’s grip she had on the table’s edge, she had the grace to look shame-faced. “I apologize for that uncalled for remark,” she replied graciously. “And you’re right. Vanessa is still singing. Furthermore, you’re definitely no boy. In fact, you’re the first man to give me an orgasm…in a public restaurant, no less!”

  Her astounding admission and sexy laugh had me thinking of things illegal in seven states.

  Easing her eyelids to half-mast, her expression softened into a look of sensuous satisfaction that had my cock rising hard against my fly. “You certainly give the word ‘appetizer’ a new meaning, lover!”

  A shudder ran through me at her words. “Your cunt is heavenly. I’ve never eaten a sweeter hors d’oeuvre!” I groaned, desperate to get to the main course. “Henceforth, I renounce all pussy but that luscious morsel between your juicy thighs. Now I’ve had the best, I’m not interested in the rest!”

  She colored up nicely at my heartfelt compliment.

  “I am ready to move beyond the appetizer. I’m ready for the real meal, aren’t you?” I pushed my plate aside and reached for her other hand.

  “More than you know.” She reached over and placed her hand in mine. “But I need to make something clear to you--”

  I placed a finger over her lips, playing with them, rubbing my digit across her bottom lip before pushing it suggestively into her mouth, shushing her. “How do you feel about dessert? Don’t you want dessert, too?”

  She squeezed my toe so hard my circulation stopped.

  “Please stop teasing me!” she ordered, gazing at me with a mixture of growing need and anger.

  “Then tell me your name,” I demanded, drawing my foot back a bit more.

  “I can’t. It’s a hooker rule! Number three: Never give your real name to the johns.” Her lips curved up in an impudent smirk.

  My breath stalled in my throat as my lungs seized up. I gasped as I rode out the vicious spike of emotional agony that seemed to spear my guts. Shocked, I fell back against my chair, speechless. Her words shouldn’t have hurt me, not like this.

  I knew the latent genes she carried, once activated, would cause her to bond physically and emotionally with the first wulf whose DNA twined with her modified code. I hadn’t known my own body and genetics would betray me into the same intense need for bonding.

  The ancient records spoke of our scientists having spliced human modified DNA onto the helix of the volunteers’ DNA--an even swap--when they removed the cluster of cells they would later inject into the human hosts. The procedure had given us our third form, enabling us to move among the humans undetected. My reaction to this Breed validated those records. One of my ancestors had to have been the donor of this Breed’s wulf DNA, which made us genetic mirrors, part of a whole. I was as drawn to this Breed as she was to me.

  I asked myself if my overwhelming attraction to her was triggered by her lively mind, her lush, full curves and dark creamy skin, or if it was simply a chemical reaction to our matching DNAs.

  On second thought, I didn’t give a fuck. The pain of her off-handed rejection felt as real as if I loved her. Hell, I would grow to love her, given enough time. I could only hope the same was true of her, because I wasn’t going to let her escape me, no matter what.

  “Don’t you ever lump me with your EX-johns, again!”

  I couldn’t get a handle on what was going on inside me. Damn it, my reaction to her labeling me part of a non-existent horde didn’t make sense. She didn’t have any johns, current or otherwise; leastwise, no recent ones. I would have smelled evidence to the contrary while buried nose-deep in her pussy. Her body, though redolent with a still-elusive aroma, lacked the scent of recent semen. The protection of a condom might have dulled the scent, but even then, I’d be able to smell the spermicidal agent used in most condoms.

  I decided not to confront her about her fabrication because, hell, if she wanted to pretend differently, what did I care? I could afford to be magnanimous and let her keep her so-called secrets…for now. Knowing no other male had put his cock in my chosen female recently allowed me to reconsider ripping her pimp’s throat out.

  “Listen, you,” she began, scrunching up her face, trying to appear fierce.

  “Hunter.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Hunter,” I explained, realizing I hadn’t yet divulged my own name. Why should she be the one to go first?

  “Hunter is a nice name.”

  I gave her a toe twist for the compliment. “Thank you.”

  “No matter how nice your name is, Hunter, we only have tonight. Much as I have enjoyed this, it cannot go anywhere.” Her gesture indicated the restaurant, everything, and us. “I’m nothing to you, just a casual, one-night--”

  My finger returned to her mouth, pressing hard, un-gently trapping the insulting phrase behind her lips, guessing the direction of her thoughts.

  “Don’t say that!” I hissed, eyes glowing, filled with ire. “You are not a nothing, especially not to me!”

  “Oh, really, you do this often?” She glanced pointedly down at where the table hid our compromising tableau. “How many times have you sat in a public restaurant with your big toe in the poontang of a real lady? Isn’t this the kind of behavior reserved for women you only plan to fuck and discard?”

  “Baby,” my amusement found its way out in a toothy smile, “first off, I do, indeed happen to think you are a real lady, and secondly, I don’t put my toe in just anyone’s pussy. In fact, I have never done this before tonight. Furthermore, I do not intend to discard you, ever. Don’t worry. I promise I’ll grow on you.”

  “If only I had run across you ages ago. What took you so long to find me?” She attempted a chuckle that fell sadly flat.

  “I’ve had a shitload of bad luck, I guess.”

  Her sickly stab at a laugh made me close my eyes on an unfamiliar ache. I opened them just as an expression of despondency flashed across her face. A human male would have missed the subtle nuance.

  Shame and tears thickening her voice, she lowered her head and whispered, “I’ve done too much to survive, bartered my soul until I have nothing left. Even if I wanted to be with you, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  How could a look, a sigh, a whisper make me hurt so?

  Two hours ago, I didn’t even know this woman existed, didn’t believe she could exist. Now I felt her pain in my own chest. How could that be?

  “I’ve found you, now.”

  She shook her head, impatiently brushed off the emotions I could see and smell roiling beneath her tough façade. “Too late.”

  Clearing her throat, she sat up straighter and squared her shoulders, trying to present a brave face. “I’m sorry. Let’s change the subject and talk about my fee and how much of my time you’d like to buy.”

  Ignoring her pitiful attempt at redirection, I recaptured her hand. “I want to know your name so I’ll know what to have them put on our marriage certificate.”

  Heart pounding wildly, I waited for her reaction, knowing my words had shocked her. Hell, they shocked me! Before tonight, the last thing on my mind was permanence.

  She frowned at me, skin taking on a pasty hue, paling as much as a black woman can. “You bastard, you almost had me buffaloed. I thought you at least liked me. Why would you play me like this?” She spoke stiffly, her tone inundated with the growing hurt and anger permeating her smell. “Get your damned toe out of my vagina. I’m leaving!”

  “No.”

  She struggled, but could hardly get up and walk away with four and a half inches of hairy toe jammed up her pussy. Not the best way to make a woman stay still long enough to listen to you, but hey, whatever works.

  “Calm down. I am not mocking you and I am not playing you. Baby, I have never been more serious in my life.”

  “Yeah, right!”

  “Hey! Watch the sarcasm. I. Am. Not. Playing. You. You’d better believe I wi
ll never lie to you.”

  Her continued look of disbelief pissed me off. Okay, maybe at the beginning, my plans had been to make her my late-night snack for the month. Fate--or our ancient scientists--having seen fit to change the rules of our little game, my intentions had taken a sharp left turn.

  How to convince her of my sincerity? After all, I could barely believe this situation, myself. I swear by the moon’s seven phases, I never in my life expected to come across a Breed female. Having found one, I’d be damned if I would pass up this golden opportunity to have a female of my own to cherish and protect, to build a family with.

  She was mate material where few existed, and biological imperatives implanted eons ago, more ascendant than will--hers or mine--dictated my actions. That I also found her an interesting, intriguing woman with a fine mind and a gentle forthrightness that proclaimed her basic innocence only weighed in on the plus side of this equation. When you added in her mega-fine body and heart-pounding, ball-tightening pussy, no way would I give her up for another wulf to claim.

  I should have known what she was when I found myself seduced by her alluring smell even before I saw her. All evening, even before I sampled my appetizer, my Wulfen senses had screamed at me to mark this woman as my mate. My body had recognized her as my biological match, and had urged me to stake my claim, to possess her utterly. Once I tasted her essence, discovered her sleeping nature, my destiny became intertwined with hers.

  That furtive, secretive taste of her prime pussy had served to leave me hungrier, starving, in desperate need for more. That quick, I found myself addicted to her. If I could, I’d feast on her all day and fuck her all night. I would breakfast on her, have pussy leftovers for lunch and look forward to dinnertime when I knew she would still be hot, fresh, and juicy as my evening meal.

  Werewulf males don’t make menu plans like that, not unless they are already contemplating forever, which translates to the big “M”--marriage by her rules, mating by mine.

  I thumped my fist on the white cloth, making the table jump. “If you think I am playing you, then you weren’t paying enough attention to what happened beneath this table.”

  The thought of losing my carefree, single state was nerve-wracking. I might have been a tad sharp addressing my future mate. Leaving my damned toe where it was, I snapped, “Furthermore, let me tell you something.” I shook my finger in her face. “There are more than five billion women on earth, but until tonight, all those cats were gray in the dark. Tonight, you lit up my world in living Technicolor, blinding me forever to any other but you.”

  I sighed. In that moment, resigning myself to my lost bachelorhood, I told her, “Baby, no male talks eternity unless he is damn serious.”

  She blushed, the deepened color washing her cheeks with a plum-rose tint.

  Damn, she looks so cute when she does that!

  I might have found her on a street corner, but regardless how that situation looked--and I would get to the bottom of it before tonight was over--my intuition told me my chosen mate was not what she wanted me to think. Far from being a prostitute, I believed her to be a true Lady, honorable, loyal and trustworthy. Best of all, she proved herself no airhead, holding a decent conversation with me on several levels. Well, not in the midst of coming, but who’s perfect? I’m sure not. In fact, in fairness to her, I needed to garner the courage to share some of my, uh, imperfections with her. She would be taking on a lot, mating with me.

  A stray breeze wafted by, floating a whiff of her pussy past my nose. My mouth watered. All of a sudden, the desperate need to get at her again assailed me. The intensity of my desires shocked and disturbed me. I had never before encountered the feelings bombarding me this evening, feelings of possession, of the biologically driven lust to procreate. I not only wanted to fuck her, I wanted to make her pregnant.

  “Let’s get the hell outta here!” Withdrawing my toe with a deft twist, I slammed my feet back into my sandals and lifted my hand, beckoning to the server. “Yo, waiter, get over here with my check!”

  A frown of shocked reprimand pleated my woman’s forehead, pursed her lips and firmed her chin. My lust-detoured brain retained enough social acumen to realize I’d better apologize to our server. I didn’t give a flying fuck if I insulted the man and never ate here again. But if I couldn’t act civilized in public, the look in my bitch’s eyes clearly read I would find her kitchen closed. I was too hungry to risk that so I muttered, “Sorry.”

  The waiter stammered out his acceptance of my surly apology and scurried away, darting several frightened looks over his shoulder.

  “Go ahead! Scare the beejeezus out of him, why don’t you?” She landed a swat on my arm as her foot tapped an irate tattoo against the Italian Fierenze ceramic tile.

  “Damn it all, I said sorry, already!”

  Okay, so the growling had been a little curt. How in hell had she expected me to act? A painful erection had been drilling a hole in the front of my jeans all the time my future mate had sat across from me, smelling up the place with her fragrant pussy.

  I wanted, no, needed to howl!

  “To hell with the waiter.” I tossed some bills on the table, grabbed my stubborn Lady by the arm and, lost to all sense, frog-marched her through the restaurant.

  “Where are we going?” Her voice was deceptively calm.

  “Someplace private, unless you prefer fucking in front of an audience. I have no problem with that if you don’t. It lets more males know you are truly taken and unavailable.”

  “Don’t you dare manhandle me like I’m your damned property,” she snarled. Pulling away from my grasp, she scowled. “You’re buying sex, not me!”

  Outside, the wind had picked up, lending a crisp, sharp chill to the autumn night. I pulled her right back to me and she snuggled closer to my warmth.

  “I’m not interested in buying you, I want to ma-marry you!” Hell, I’d almost said mate. She wouldn’t have understood that.

  Shivering in her skimpy ‘fuck-me’ dress she muttered, “I won’t go back to your place. I never go to a private residence with a--”

  The growl rumbling in my throat stopped her from finishing that asinine sentence.

  “Fine. We’ll go to your place. Where is it?”

  She frantically shook her head, no. The upsurge of terror that washed over her flooded my olfactory sense, bringing my baser instincts to the fore. I felt the impact like a blow against my solar plexus. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I fought to control my natural response to such fear.

  “Okaaay, since your place is out, where?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to rent a room. Maybe we can--”

  Before she finished, I had dragged her halfway down the block.

  She balked.

  “What now?” My exasperation came through my curt words.

  “You’re acting differently than you did earlier. You didn’t seem so…I don’t know…bossy and intense!”

  “You think?” I mocked, losing another notch of patience. “I seriously threw my heart on the ground for you to trample on. I think a guy has a right to be intense at a time like this.”

  “You are so full of shit. Back the spit up, Tarzan. Don’t go trying to frighten me or the deal’s off.”

  I laughed. I mean…really! The time to be frightened was when I asked her to dinner. Now that she had nothing to worry about, she decided to jump bad? Women! No matter what species, they all find a way to drive a male crazy.

  “You, of all people, have nothing to worry about. Regardless of how I might snarl at you, I would never hurt you. You’re the safest woman in this city. Look, you want to see my driver’s license?” I pulled out my wallet and started tossing cards at her. “Here are my credit cards; my social security I.D. card, my--”

  “Why are you showing me all this stuff?” she asked, shuffling my identification back as fast as I passed them over. “I don’t need to see all this.”

  She paused over the driver’s license and I cringed.


  I hated that picture. Some lame woman had ignored the no pets sign and smuggled her cat into the DMV that day. I was allergic to most felines, and they’d caught me just as I sneezed. I swear they did it deliberately. The surest test of trust is showing your potential mate your driver’s license. If they don’t run screaming into the night with hysterical laughter, they might stick around long enough to build a life together.

  I took her chin in my hand, raising her face so I could look into her eyes. “Listen up! I intend to marry you. Tonight would be nice. Tomorrow is acceptable. End of the week is the latest date I’ll entertain.”

  I Take Her Home and Introduce Myself

  “Now I know you’re joking.” Her mouth firmed with renewed suspicion.

  “That’s it!” I threw my arms up in the air. “Choose where you want to go! My place, your place, or that wall in the alley!” I drew in an agitated breath. “But choose quickly. The sooner we get this issue settled, the sooner I can get my cock in your pussy and make both of us happy.”

  “Not my place,” she reiterated, mangling her bottom lip in agitation. I howled inside, wanting it to be my teeth worrying that full, pouty mouth.

  “Fine! Not your place. Got it. Where?”

  She tapped her lip in indecision, absently slipping her finger inside and sucking it against her tongue. Buford almost split my pants.

  I have something for that tongue, sweet bitch, a whole lot bigger than the circumference of your finger.

  “You’re not a serial killer or anything?”

  “Hell, yes, as a matter of fact, I am! Now where are we going to fuck?” I pointed across the street. “That alley is beginning to look mighty promising.”

  Finally, just when I thought I would go insane from unfulfilled lust, she seemed to come to some decision. “All right, take me to your house.”

  I had her headed down the street before she finished speaking. Casting a worried look at her outrageously high sling-backs, I wished I’d driven to the restaurant. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry! I should have brought the car, but I never expected to meet you tonight. Want me to call a cab?”