I inch forward, shining the flashlight on the way ahead. On a hunch that I can’t even explain, I hit the button to start recording and then point the camera toward the alley. The moment I hit record, the flashlight flickers off.
Damn.
It’s one or the other. I’ve made my choice.
My eyes trained on the screen, I watch as the scene ahead comes into view. The moment it comes into focus on the small screen, the haze of alcohol leaves my mind in an instant.
I realize with absolute certainty that I've made a mistake. Because the guys are obviously long gone. At the end of the alley are two of the biggest dogs I've ever seen. A brown one lies pinned to the ground by a monstrous black dog, its massive jaws clenched around its victim’s neck.
In a moment of panic, I throw my shoe at it.
“Hey! Get! Bad dog,” I yell as my heel bounces harmlessly off the black dog’s rear before landing nearby with a pathetic clatter.
The black dog abandons its kill and stalks towards me.
Shit.
Nice, Romy. You just annoyed the thing. And now you’re weaponless.
My gaze shifts to the dead dog behind it. But it’s not a dog anymore. A scream lodges in my throat as my brain tries to compute what my eyes are telling it. The naked body is still and lifeless–all except for the steady stream of blood still leaking from his torn throat.
Holy. Shit.
My phone slips from my limp hands and clatters to the bricks at my feet. I turn and run, only looking over my shoulder once I've reached the street.
My jaw falls open, and I skid to a stop, my bag falling down my arm and spilling some of its contents onto the road.
The giant dog is gone. Vanished.
In its place, in the middle of the alley stands the sexiest man I've ever seen—completely naked and dripping in blood. He starts toward me then stiffens suddenly and stops. The violent look is gone, replaced by an intensity I can feel low in my belly. He opens his mouth like he might speak but then quickly shuts it again, his interest turning to confusion.
Behind him, the bloody human corpse remains a very dead man.
Every sane and rational thought slides out of my mind as I struggle to compute what just happened. There was a dog. Then it was gone.
No.
That isn’t right.
There were two dogs. Now the dogs are both dudes.
One of them is dead. The other is staring me down like I’m next.
Shifters.
Holy. . .
Werewolves are real.
And this one looks ready to eat me.
Rather than wait around for my turn to come, I turn and run like my life depends on it since, apparently, it actually does.
Chapter 2
Anna and Talia are already waiting in our usual booth when I stumble into Hallowed Grounds. The wet weather hasn’t helped my trembling, but then neither did witnessing a murder eight hours ago. It’s been a hellacious night and is shaping up to be an even worse day. The only bright spot is the extra coffee I see waiting on the table when I walk up, saving me from having to stand in the ridiculously long line.
“We ordered for ya,” Anna says distractedly, not even looking at me as she scoots over to let me slide in beside her.
“It’s scary! I keep tellin’ y'all it’s not safe to be walkin’ around by yourselves at night,” Anna says, picking up a conversation they were obviously having before I got here.
“We all carry mace, and we took those self-defense classes freshman year. I don’t know why you’re acting like we aren’t careful,” Talia states firmly.
“I s’pose you’re right,” Anna sighs. “I just hope they find her soon,” she says, glancing down at a flyer on the table in front of her.
Not just a flyer, I realize when I spot the face of a beautiful redhead staring back at me with the word MISSING printed in bright red over her photo. A missing persons poster. I skim the information below her picture with a pang of sadness for her family and friends before sinking back into my own heavy thoughts.
My mind is still too muddled for the rest of the world’s troubles. The murdered wolf starred in every one of my dreams last night. And beside him, the killer. A smoking hot, psycho werewolf. A face I see every time I close my eyes now.
Werewolves are real.
Why doesn’t that freak me out as much as it excites me?
“Holy hellfire,” Talia says, looking up at me for the first time as I settle in across from her. “What happened to you?”
Anna’s eyes widen at my appearance before turning sympathetic. “Oh, Honey. Are ya sick?” she asks, reaching out to pat my face.
I shake my head.
“Hung over?” Talia guesses.
“No, I. . .” My voice breaks, and I reach for the coffee, feeling its warmth seep into my skin as I struggle to get myself under control. “I saw something last night. On my way home from Valkyrie.”
“If it was two idiots going at it, I don’t want to hear the details. I saw that last week and am already emotionally scarred by the peep show. I mean, who the hell thinks the top of a dumpster is a good place to get busy.” Talia stops long enough to take a big gulp of her coffee.
“It wasn’t that,” I assure them.
“What did ya see?” Anna asks.
“Look, before I tell you, just promise that you’ll keep an open mind, okay?”
Anna pats my arm. “Of course, sweetie. We’re always here for ya, you know that. Now, what’s got ya lookin’ so blue?”
I force the words out in a rush before I can lose my nerve. “Last night, I saw a werewolf.”
Silence.
Both girls blink at me before raising a quizzical brow to each other.
“In what movie?” Talia asks.
“Did you fall asleep watchin’ Twilight again?” Anna asks. “Oh, honey, you know what Jacob does to ya.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t see it in a movie. This was real life.”
They exchange another look before bursting into laughter, and I grip the handle of my mug tightly to keep from losing my cool. Now that I’ve said the words out loud, I’m more sure than ever that it was all real. I really witnessed a murder and the existence of monsters—all in one night.
“Okay,” Anna says finally, drawing out the word when she sees I’m not laughing with them.
“Did this werewolf say anything specific or just howl at the moon?” Talia asks, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“No, not to me, anyway.” I lean in and drop my voice to a harsh whisper. “He was too busy killing another werewolf.”
“Oh, so there are two werewolves now.” Talia frowns.
“Not anymore. One’s dead.”
“Right. Of course.” Talia nods, and I narrow my eyes.
“I’m not lying. I saw it.”
“Listen, Romy, ya had a few drinks last night,” Anna says gently. “Is it possible you mistook what ya saw for what ya wanted to see? We all know how much you love your paranormal romance.”
“You think I wanted to see a guy get his throat ripped out?” I ask angrily.
Anna leans away in surprise at my tone.
Talia thrums her hand on the table. Her expression is solemn. Not like she’s taking me seriously. More like she’s taking seriously the challenge of proving me insane.
“What do the police say?” she asks.
Shit. I knew she would ask that.
“Nothing,” I begrudgingly admit. “I’ve been up all night scrolling local news feeds, but there’s not a single reporting on a murder in Bricktown last night. Or anywhere in Cambridge.”
“So you didn’t call and report it yourself?”
“No, I was too busy running for my life.”
That, and he knows my face. I’m not stupid enough to rat him out when he knows what I look like.
The girls exchange another look, and my patience snaps.
“Guys, I am not making this up. I wasn’t drunk, and I saw what I saw. Werewolves
are real. You have to believe me.”
“Oh, honey, it’s not that we don’t believe you,” Anna says.
“It’s that you sound insane,” Talia adds, and Anna glares at her.
“What she means,” Anna says, “is that your story sounds so much like the openin’ scene of Dirty Blood. Remember that paranormal romance you made me read last month where a dead body in an alley turns into a Werewolf? You demanded I read the series so I could weigh in on whether I was Team Alex or Team Wes. Remember? Are you sure you didn’t just read this scene before bed instead of witnessin’ it? Sometimes our dreams can seem so real.”
“Yeah, remember last week when Anna was pissed at me because she dreamed I threw away her hideous sweater,” Talia adds.
“That sweater is adorable and was a gift from my grandmama. Thank you very much.”
“It wasn’t a dream,” I say before they can continue arguing, but I can see in their eyes that neither of them believes me. “Ugh.” I lean back against the cushion and think of my lost phone. If I hadn’t dropped it, maybe I would have all the proof I need. But all chance of that idea vanished the moment I’d left it behind. Unless…
“You know what? It’s fine. I’m going to catch up with you two later.” I take a last gulp of my coffee and slide to my feet.
“Where are ya goin’?” Anna asks.
“I have class.” I wave and then hurry out before either one notices it’s way too early for my first class.
Outside, the autumn sun has begun to break through the gloomy cloud cover, but it doesn’t do much for the chill prickling my skin. Leaves rustle as they fall, coating the campus in a brilliant array of reds and yellows.
Outside, I turn toward Bricktown. Toward Valkyrie. There’s a chance my phone is still where I dropped it. I at least have to look.
I hurry around the blind corner and slam into someone.
“Ugh.”
The collision with the hard body sends me careening towards the ground, but an arm slips around my waist pinning me to a firm chest and steadying me. A zing tingles its way through my body, and I glance up. My mouth falls open, and I wrench myself away as I take in the sexiest murderer I've ever seen.
Sexiest? What? No, I meant scariest.
Seeing him in broad daylight makes me question what I thought I saw last night. My mind can’t seem to equate the vicious, bloody man from the previous evening with the clean, gorgeous specimen standing before me. But even with the grainy half-light of the alley last night, I know it’s him.
I stare as he lets me go then crosses his arms over his chest. His muscles flex with the movement, straining against the fabric of his white t-shirt. The messy waves of his long, dark brown hair are streaked with caramel highlights. His jaw is all sharp angles and covered in dark scruff. Sexy. Very un-murderous looking. In fact, nothing about him is the same as last night.
Until my perusal reaches his eyes. The stormy blue depths that have been haunting me since the last time I saw them are exactly as I remember them. Haunting. And once again, gleaming with interest.
In the back of my mind, I wonder if there's something wrong with me for checking out a violent killer, but I quickly shove that thought away. I've been reading about werewolves since I was in high school. Of course I’m intrigued by him, but those books taught me one very important thing—every story has a hero and a villain. And right now, every sign points to him being the latter.
“Hello, again,” he says in a rich, deep voice that thrums along my senses.
“Are you here to kill me?” I slap a hand over my mouth in an attempt to silence myself.
“What?” He grabs my arm and drags me underneath the awning of an unopened business.
I blink up at him in shock as he lazily takes a sip from a disposable cup I hadn’t noticed before. My gaze zeros in on the Hallowed Grounds logo, and my eyes narrow.
“Are you stalking me?” I demand.
A man pauses to frown at us before continuing past.
When the stranger turns to side-eye the pedestrian, I seize the opportunity and bring my knee up aimed straight for his balls. Just before I can land it, he twists away so that I miss and nearly tumble forward with my own momentum.
The sexy stranger growls low in his throat, grabbing hold of my waist and pushing me further into the privacy of the alcove. His face is hard as he moves closer into my space, crowding me and making my head swim. He smells like bonfires and spiced whiskey, and I find myself leaning into him. My brain is having trouble focusing, and I can’t decide if I’m scared, angry, weirdly attracted, or a combination of the three.
Clearly, my book boyfriend fetish has broken my brain.
“What the hell was that for?”
“You’re obviously trying to kill me. What do you expect?”
He scowls. “I’m not stalking you, and I’m not trying to kill you. Don’t be ridiculous,” he says.
His fingers twitch on my hip almost painfully before he abruptly pulls back from me, putting some distance between us.
The space allows my head to clear, and I suck in a sharp breath. Holy shit! I just smelled a werewolf’s neck! That’s all kinds of bad. He’s dangerous, Romy! Get your shit together, I scream at my hormones.
“If you’re not here to kill me, then what are you doing here?” I ask with all the bravado I can manage. Still, my voice trembles slightly.
A smirk slides across his gorgeous, cruel face, transforming him into the monster from last night.
“What’s the matter, Romy? Is meeting a real live werewolf not living up to your expectations.” His voice is deep and smooth like a fine whiskey. I instantly hate it. “Pity. I was so hoping I would be book boyfriend material.”
My heart feels like it’s going to explode from my chest as my brain registers what he just said. He knows my name. No. Scratch that. His use of the words “book boyfriend material” means he knows everything about me. Right down to the hashtag I created for social media.
My mind races as I try to come up with a way out of this mess. Flatter him! Swear you won’t say anything, my mind screams at me.
He smiles at me, his teeth gleaming like he knows he’s got me. And my bitch switch flips.
“I took a video of you last night,” I blurt out.
Yes, queen! Make that smug son of a bitch squirm, I encourage myself! I may not be able to beat a werewolf in a fight, but maybe I can bluff my way to safety.
“If anything happens to me, the video I took last night will make it into the hands of every news agency in Massachusetts.” He doesn’t know that I lost my phone. I just need him to believe that I have some leverage over him.
He throws his head back and laughs a deep belly laugh. The sound of it is rich and sexy and something I find myself wanting to trigger again and again.
It cuts off sharply, and his focus returns to me. I cross my arms over my chest, unwilling to back down. He reaches into his back pocket, and my body tenses, but what he pulls out is worse than any weapon. There in his hand is my bright red phone.
“How is our relationship going to last if you start out by lying to me?” he asks, twirling my precious phone between nimble fingers.
I grab for it, but he holds it out of my reach.
My heart sinks, but I jut my chin up, refusing to accept that I’ve been beaten. “Thank God for the cloud, asshole! The video is already safe and sound.”
He slips my phone back into his pocket before shaking his head at me like I’ve somehow disappointed him.
“Oh, Pepper. Your attempts to intimidate are almost as endearing as those freckles peppered across your cheeks.” He brushes his knuckles across my face, and I shudder in pleasure.
“Ugh. Stop calling me that! We don’t have cutesy nicknames. You’re a murderer, who apparently dabbles in blackmailing and stalking.”
He touches his hand to his chest. “That hurts, Romy. I really thought we were going to give your followers something to howl about. I guess it just goes to show, you can’t tr
ust every pretty face you meet in a seedy alley.”
He moves too quickly for my eyes to track, and suddenly my body is pinned between him and the building behind me. He leans down, and my blood roars to life while my heart beats erratically.
“It’s like you don’t know me at all, Pepper,” he whispers in my ear. He pulls back enough for me to see the intensity in the depths of his eyes.
“Do you really think I haven’t already made sure that the video wasn’t on your laptop? And that sticker. Boys in Books are Better? That really hurt my feelings.” His brow quirks, and the mischief in his eyes wars with the warning in his words.
“You’ve been in my apartment?” I narrow my eyes, debating on a second knee-in-the-balls attempt. “What kind of psycho are you?”
“The kind who wants to understand who he’s up against.”
“I see. Do you stalk everyone you plan to kill, or am I just lucky?”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says though the words feel a little mocking.
I glare at him. “Sorry if I’m not convinced, seeing as how I watched you kill a guy in that alley over there.”
His expression hardens. For a split second, fury passes over his features but is quickly replaced with something more controlled. “You arrived too late to see the part where he attacked me.”
“So you’re claiming self-defense?”
“I’m claiming that you and he have nothing in common. I don’t want to hurt you.”
It’s the same thing he’s already said. Only, this time, I believe him. Or I want to. I mean, I think I could. If he stops being so scary. Sexy. No, wait. Shit. Scary. Yeah, that’s the one.
He drags his hand up my side, causing an involuntary whimper to escape my lips, only stopping when his massive hand cups my jaw. “I’m afraid things just aren’t going to work between us, Romy. You don’t trust me. I can’t be with someone who’s constantly questioning my motives.” He sighs like this ridiculous conversation has weighed heavily on him. “I don’t think you can love me for who I am.”
“A psycho killer?” I shoot back.
The smirk drops from his face, and his eyes turn cold before he continues in a much more serious tone.
“A werewolf. With more resources than you could wrap your pretty little human head around.”
The Girl Who Cried Werewolf Page 2