Tate laughed. "Uh—huh."
"We're wasting time," Derrick yelled. He was right.
Derrick's parents went behind some bushes, and when they came back out they were walking on all fours. His father leaped over the fence easily. His mother followed. Kristin's parents stood glowering.
"We're not leaving you here alone with her," her father shouted. Derrick's father jumped up on his hind legs and knocked something off the side of the gate wall. The gate fell open and Kristin's parents stepped through it.
"Of course we're not going to leave you behind," Derrick said, turning to Kristin's parents. "You need to trust us, just a little. Not all shifters are evil." Then he willed his muscles and bones to form the familiar shape that he'd come to love. The itch to run made its way to his brain, and he didn't fight it. Running was good. Especially since they had to hurry.
Tate stood beside Kristin's mother with his mouth on the ground. "Awesome!" he finally whispered before slipping through the gate after the others.
***
Kristin heard noises below her. She opened one eye. Her face felt like a tenderized beef patty. She tried to scream, but it came out in a whisper. "Hello?"
Derrick's ears perked up. He could already smell her, but there were a lot of smells in this house. Wolf scent was barely palatable to panthers, and he'd been having a hard time finding Kristin because of it. Now, with her whisper, he had a guide. He ran towards her.
Derrick was at the top of the stairs, his path clear, when Tom leaped from out of nowhere, blocking his way. Derrick roared. Tom rushed at him. They rolled around on the ground for a while, teeth grinding against each other's skin, before, with a swipe of his massive paw, Derrick slashed Tom's cheek open and he ran off whimpering.
"Wait!" Tate bounded up the stairs. "Wait for me!" Derrick wasn't waiting for anyone. Kristin was close. Her scent was stronger now that he was upstairs. He followed it into the bedroom and pushed the closet door open. His wife was lying on the ground, unconscious.
Derrick felt his relief at finding her crushed as he took in the sight of her body. Her lips were blue. Her dress was stained. Her whole face looked like a giant bruise. Her eyes were half opened, as thought she was hallucinating. He licked her face and her eyes began to focus. She smiled and Derrick's heart leapt.
"Derrick?"
He was encouraged that her voice was stronger than it had been a minute ago. She looked bad, but he could hear the strength behind her words. "Derrick, look out!"
He felt something dig into his back. It happened so fast, he wasn't sure what was attacking him. For half a second, he thought Kristin's parents had driven one of their stakes into him. He tried to spin and see what was hurting him, but whatever it was dug into his body too tightly.
Randy Wolfe hung onto Derrick, refusing to let go. The anger in him boiled over and he dug his claws deeper inside him, envisioning hitting some vital organ. Suddenly, Wolfe felt a slug to his head. He fell off Derrick's back and hit the ground, looking up just in time to see Tate bringing a baseball bat down on him. He jumped at Tate, slashing his chest open with a satisfying rip that left his heart beating out of his chest. Tate fell to the ground. Wolfe grinned. It was almost too easy taking down jocks like Tate.
Derrick felt the growl rise in his throat seconds before he tore through the air, lunging at Randy's throat, it was with the intention of drawing blood. Randy turned, leaping at Derrick. They met in mid-air and clambered to the ground together.
More growls and roars sailed up from downstairs, and Kristin heard her parents scream. Her eyes flew open. She was wide awake now. Her head pounded and she felt like she'd gone through the windshield of a car, but she was alive. "Mom!" she screamed. "Dad! Up here! Help!"
Derrick and Randy rolled around the room together. Suddenly there were three more wolves in the room with them. The all pounced on Derrick. She could hear flesh ripping open.
"They're killing him!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to get out of her ropes so she could help. She rolled across the room and got close enough to kick one, but it had no impact.
Two panthers appeared in the door then, followed by her parents, each holding a sword. She barely had time to wonder where the hell they had gotten swords before they all ran into the room together, each tackling a wolf. She watched, amazed, as her parents cut through the air with skill and efficiency, knocking the wolves down one by one. Derrick's parents moved so quickly, they were nothing but black streaks with razor teeth. As soon as her parents knocked a wolf to the ground, his were on top of it ripping it apart.
When the roars had stopped and the air was clear of wolves, Derrick shifted back to his human form. He was hurt but not dead. His parents, still panthers, huddled around Tate, whose chest was moving in shallow breaths. They took turns licking his wounds, which began to heal over, but not fast enough.
Derrick cradled her in his arms. Her hands, finally free, wrapped around his neck, pulling him close. There was a soft whimper from the corner and Kristin opened her eyes to see Randy pulling himself along the floor, his leg dangling off him in an unnatural way. She wanted to feel bad for him, but then remembered the way he'd tied her wrists together and shoved her into a closet. She hoped his leg fell off.
Derrick rubbed his head against hers, relishing in the soft buzz of electricity that had returned. Kristin's face was bruised, but she'd never looked more beautiful. His lips found hers as warm and wanting as ever, and they breathed each other in again, feeling their destiny in each other's arms.
Chapter 16
"Ssh!" Tate whispered.
"What? She's not here yet," a woman's voice rang across the room.
"Ssh!" he said again, with more vehemence. The guest, a tall blonde woman, was about to bicker with him when his eyes glowed a golden hue and she shut her mouth, more intrigued than scared. Tate's ears perked up. He'd heard Derrick and Kristin approaching before they'd even gotten to their driveway. This panther stuff was awesome.
Kristin and Derrick walked into the room.
"Surprise!" Everyone yelled.
They looked around, stunned. Pink baby decorations lined the walls. Kristin's parents stood next to Derrick's, beaming at them. "It was all their idea," her parents said, pointing at Derrick's.
"No, no, you had a say in it, too," Derrick's parents said.
A giant cake, shaped like a pink panther, sat on a table top surrounded by white and pink balloons.
"How did you guys know?" Kristin asked, glaring at Derrick. "I told you not to tell!"
"He didn't say a thing," her mother said. "I promise. I keep telling you—we're psychic. When are you gonna start believing us?"
Kristin and Derek laughed. Kristin raised an eyebrow. Maybe there was something to all those psychic seminars her parents had gone to after all. If her parents and Derrick's could be friends again, maybe anything was possible.
Coach walked up just then and shoved a box at Derrick. "I had it framed, in case it turned out to be a boy."
Kristin cleared her throat and glared at him. "Or a girl. Girls can like sports too, I guess," Coach said, his cheeks going red.
Derrick opened the box and found the front headline from the sports section: DERRICK WELLBORN SETS NEW RECORD FOR RUSHING YARDS IN SUPERBOWL VICTORY. In smaller letters, just under it: With Assist from Tate Edwards.
He beamed. "Thanks Coach."
"Hey Derrick," Tate said, running up to him. He was running so much faster these days. This whole shifter thing was crazy. Not that he would have changed a thing, especially since Derrick's parents had saved his life by turning him into one.
"So like, I can still have sex right?" he whispered. "I mean, nothing weird's gonna, you know, happen?"
Derrick laughed. "Go for it."
Tate smiled and ran to find the blonde with the intriguing smile.
"So, I guess we need to pick a name now, huh?" Kristin asked, patting her stomach. Derrick watched her hand roll over the soft flesh jutting from her belly, a
nd wondered if anyone would notice if they disappeared for 20 minutes or so.
"Of course they would," Kristin said.
"Would what?"
"Notice if we disappeared."
"How did..." Derrick stared at her.
"What?" she asked.
"How did you know what I was thinking?"
Kristin frowned. "You whispered it to me. Didn't you?" Derrick shook his head. "Quick," she told him. "Think something else."
He looked at Kristin's breasts, even more pronounced now than they normally were, and this was just her first month. He wondered how big they might be by the ninth month.
"Oh! You better not just want me for my body," she squealed. He stared at her, wide eyed.
"Don't tell me you're psychic now," he said.
She grinned. "Maybe it's just a pregnancy thing."
Maybe I'd like to take you in the back right now and...
Kristin blushed as Derrick finished his thought. Wrapping his hand in hers, they snuck away from their party. Kristin decided he was right, no one would miss them if they were only gone 20 minutes.
THE END
FULL MOON LOVER
STORY DESCRIPTION
Mary is a young, single, attractive woman living in Baltimore.
Which should mean she is active in the city's dating scene. And, she probably would be if it weren’t for that one little issue of... social anxiety.
Besides, there’s really no one she’s even remotely interested in. Well, there is the steaming hot guy with severe bed head and horribly mismatched socks who doesn’t drink coffee but frequents the coffee shop to get the old Polish barista to comb his hair and help him match his clothes.
Mary figures that even if she weren't painfully shy, she still wouldn't have much of a chance with him, though, since half the woman in the city drool over him. She's seen how women in the coffee shop behave when he's around.
One night, fate delivers "Mr. Hottie" right to Mary’s door, only he’s not exactly what she expected; he is, in fact, much more. So, so very much more!
This time, Mary is not about to let her painful shyness stop her from having the adventure of a lifetime as the two set out together to save the city from a monster running beneath the full moon.
CHAPTER 1
The first thing she noticed about him, besides his devilishly handsome features and ripped physique, were his socks. They didn’t match, not in the slightest way. It wasn’t just a matter of mixing a blue sock with a black sock. No. One was a brownish plaid while the other was white. So, safe to say, he was in the realm of what the hell is wrong with him?
OK. She could move beyond that, but then there was the issue of his hair. It was a bed head to the nth degree. It looked like he had maybe used his hand to comb it two days ago, but had since slept multiple times and driven in a convertible.
But there were many parts of him that made him easy on the eyes. Well, his eyes for instance. She had never seen any like them before. They were the kind of eyes you would see in a perfume ad or a pretentious music video. You know the ones she’s thinking about: the world behind the model is gray and slightly discolored, while the eyes are an unnatural shade of blue. Alien even. Electrically vibrating.
It was hard not to be entranced by his eyes, which was probably why he always wore shades— Perhaps he was aware of his power. She had only seen him with them off once, and that one time was enough for them to be burned into her brain. She wasn’t the only one to see them that night when the shades fell off. All the girls in the cafe turned and watched him like a robot in sync, or a field of muskrats entranced by a mystical shift in the cosmos.
Of course it wasn’t just his eyes, though. She had a mega crush on him before that. His cheekbones and jawline were enough to make even Clint Eastwood jealous. He was a perfectly sexy Polish boy in Baltimore, Maryland. Her mother would be so proud if she managed to take him home. But of course, she wouldn’t get with him simply because of her mother. No, he was a catch, and she wanted to catch him with all her might.
All that was in her way was her social anxiety and fear of rejection. If she could just get over those two things, she would be in the clear…
But his hair and the way he dressed! Was he a fourteen-year-old boy caught in a thirty-year-old body? Could he not see himself in the mirror?
There was a woman who worked at the cafe
that seemed to take care of him. Every night the old barista saw him and waved him to the back. With a hairy mole on her chin, and the kind of slouch and shuffle that only accompanies an eighty-year-old woman, she managed to make him look… presentable. Hollywood handsome, even.
One night Mary peeped into the back as the old woman mothered him. With goggles for glasses, she peered at him at him closely as she delicately combed his hair, shaved his face, and even changed his bowtie. Yes, even his bowties sometimes didn’t match. He took out four from his pocket for her to choose from, and moaned, “Oh please just choose for me. I can’t bother to worry about this at the moment. There’s just so much nonsense going on that I have to deal with tonight.” She chuckled a guttural old woman laugh, shuffled close to him and untied his horrendous abomination, moving like an arthritic turtle.
To the old woman’s credit, he always came out looking damn good, albeit still a little out of place (but for that there probably wasn’t a cure). There was something else about him that pampering couldn’t fix. Besides the mismatched socks (which the old lady never bothered to fix), the alien eyes, and the chiseled facial features, there was something else, and Mary was never able to put a finger on it. It wasn’t for lack of trying— she often thought about it. More than she would ever admit to even herself.
Don’t tell anyone, but the one or two times she had seen him with his sunglasses off, she actually thought about trailing him.
Openly.
It was the oddest thing and she knew it, but she just wanted to follow him to wherever he went. She didn’t need to speak with him, she just felt an unnatural desire to be close to him. Now if he proposed his undying love for her and asked her to marry him would she say yes? Well yeah, but that was it.
That wasn’t so weird, was it?
Then, she saw his socks and thought of something better to do with her time.
Oh, but his body. He did have a hell of nice body. One night when it was cold— frigidly so— upper teens without wind-chill factored in— he came in wearing nothing but flip flops, slacks, and a tight white t-shirt and shouted for the little old lady. Most nights he just looked like a bum, but on this particular night he looked like a deranged bum— granted a very hot deranged bum with a rock hard, chiseled body that turned every woman’s head— but a deranged bum nonetheless.
“Aniela! Aniela! Quick! I’m in a hurry!” Aniela was Polish for angel.
“Pracuję, głupek! Bądź cierpliwy!” I’m working, stupid boy. Be patient.
Mary’s mother was Polish. She grew up speaking it in the house.
“Aniela!” he huffed and puffed. “This is important!”
“Znaleźć inną staruszkę do hepl ciebie.” Find another old woman to help you then.
“Jesteś jedyną kobietą dla mnie.” You are the only woman for me.
“Idiota, jestem 83 lat.” Idiot, I am 83 years old.
He shot his hand in the air as if she spoke nonsense.
She finished making a customer a teapot of Earl Grey tea, and waved him to the back when she was ready. He quickly beat her there and sat down in his chair and waited for her to shuffle over.
Mary remembered thinking, whatever you do, grandma, leave that chest the way it is. He’s fine. He won’t get pneumonia, I promise.
But Aniela didn’t leave it alone. In fact, it was the first thing she changed. She shuffled farther into the back and came back with a green knit sweater (one apparently she had knit herself) and pulled it over his head. It seemed she knew this night would come— him completely ill prepared for the weather and the social reactions and constructs
of the world in which he lived when dealing with such pesky nuisances as… cold temperatures.
Mary tried to ask her once about him, but she responded, “On jest po prostu jakiś głupi chłopak wiem.” He is just some stupid boy I know.
She tried to let him go. But a part of her just couldn’t. He was just too… weird.
But something happened on a cold January night that changed things.
CHAPTER 2
Saturday night. Yes, it was three weeks after Christmas, and yes she still had her tree up. But who cared? She’s a grownup. She could live her life the way she wanted.
Well maybe watching Love Actually for the tenth time after Christmas was a bit much, but it wasn’t like she was addicted to the movie or anything. She just couldn’t afford Netflix or cable, and it just so happened to be one of the only movies she had that didn’t skip. She had the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, but… that scene had started skipping long ago. And really, if she couldn’t watch Colin Firth get wet head to toe what was the point?
She walked to the kitchen to get some more cereal and heard the footsteps of the neighbor above her walking up the wooden fire escape. She had blinds pulled, and her lights weren’t on, but she still felt it best to hide against the wall until she heard him walking into his apartment.
When she heard him rummaging around in his apartment, she pulled the blinds a little out just to be sure he wouldn’t be able to see her.
You see, the door to the outside in her kitchen was the door to the fire escape, and this door had a little sliver of a window above it that she couldn’t cover with anything besides paper bags— and had somehow still fought the urge to do so (but it seemed like a better and better idea every day). Mary factored that if he got on his belly and lowered his head past the landing, he might be able to see her. Maybe not her body, but at least the top of her head, and maybe some of her boobs if she were naked— which she sometimes was.
Bears of Burden: WYATT Page 84