I’m sure a few expletives crossed my lips. But they died in the air between us, and so did the false laugh.
He was dead serious.
I swallowed hard, then cleared my throat and said, “I should’ve finished my beer.”
He nodded. “We should’ve got another round.”
I agreed. “Maybe two.”
The truth was, I wanted this guy to jump me--in spite of what he’d just said. I couldn’t wait for it. And I was scared to death. I mean, there was no question that he was big enough to hurt me. Definitely, he could rape me if he wanted.
He looked virile. In fact, he looked so damn sexy that I wanted his children. I know it sounds stupid. But, on the spot, I went from being alone to wanting to belong. I wanted to be his. To be connected forever.
Leer said, “I’m having a little trouble with self-control here.”
His fingers were clenching and unclenching. He kept tucking his chin, looking--no--darting his gaze around the room.
I watched him, half-afraid of what he was trying to control. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside, I’d been waiting for him all my life. I knew, instinctively you might say, that we were going to end up together. Call it kismet. Call it destiny.
He called it kinship.
What that really meant was that I was a breeder. Somewhere back in the family line, a werewolf had crossed with a human in my tree. The gene doesn’t dominate the line, thank God. But when it resurfaces, there’s a few signs that tip off the elders. Life lines in the palm, shape of the eyes, that sort of thing. They’d been waiting, watching my mother, her mother, my grandma. Just waiting.
You see, Garou--that’s another name for werewolves--are short on breeding females. Their bitches are just that. A lot of in-fighting. They kill each other off regularly. If it weren’t for the kin-lines, they’d have likely gone extinct altogether.
I’ve learned a lot about my relatives since that first night when I met Leer, as you can see. Now, without going into the whole deal, you may be wondering… so why don’t they just mate with human women, like their ancestors did? Well, they could. But that opens a whole other can of worms. I’ll probably get to the worms later.
Leer said, “Look. I just wanna jump your bones.”
I didn’t think twice. “So get to it. We both know you’re not leaving here without what you came for.”
We both held our breath.
I didn’t blink. I’m sure of it. But I must have. Because, not a half second later, he was on me. Well, he was kneeling between my legs, on the floor in front of me. Both his hands were on the arms of the chair. His nose was in my throat.
He was sniffing me.
Oh my God! There is nothing more sensual than a werewolf that is panting for you, getting ready.
They get so close that you are all but touching. Their pheromones fill your senses. You pant back. You can’t help it. And you become moist all over. Your skin sweats. Your crotch drips. Your mouth salivates.
At least, that’s what it’s like for kin.
You know, I’d always had great ears. Could hear sirens before they turned the corner, birds and insects that no one else heard. Smelled smoke long before anyone else did. Sneezed repeatedly over strong perfumes. Could taste faint nuances in unusual dishes. Now I know why.
And now I know what those senses were meant for.
I sniffed him back. With my eyes closed, I inhaled time and time again. I don’t know when I reached for him, cradled his face--licked his jaw.
But that was all it took. The next thing I knew, he lifted me up out of the chair and grumbled, “Where? We need more room.”
My apartment actually had a huge living room, but I didn’t question him. Instead, I clung to him, my arms around his neck, nuzzling him. “Mmmm. The bedroom’s in there.”
He was dead serious.
I swallowed hard, then cleared my throat and said, “I should’ve finished my beer.”
He nodded. “We should’ve got another round.”
I agreed. “Maybe two.”
The truth was, I wanted this guy to jump me--in spite of what he’d just said. I couldn’t wait for it. And I was scared to death. I mean, there was no question that he was big enough to hurt me. Definitely, he could rape me if he wanted.
He looked virile. In fact, he looked so damn sexy that I wanted his children. I know it sounds stupid. But, on the spot, I went from being alone to wanting to belong. I wanted to be his. To be connected forever.
Leer said, “I’m having a little trouble with self-control here.”
His fingers were clenching and unclenching. He kept tucking his chin, looking--no--darting his gaze around the room.
I watched him, half-afraid of what he was trying to control. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside, I’d been waiting for him all my life. I knew, instinctively you might say, that we were going to end up together. Call it kismet. Call it destiny.
He called it kinship.
What that really meant was that I was a breeder. Somewhere back in the family line, a werewolf had crossed with a human in my tree. The gene doesn’t dominate the line, thank God. But when it resurfaces, there’s a few signs that tip off the elders. Life lines in the palm, shape of the eyes, that sort of thing. They’d been waiting, watching my mother, her mother, my grandma. Just waiting.
You see, Garou--that’s another name for werewolves--are short on breeding females. Their bitches are just that. A lot of in-fighting. They kill each other off regularly. If it weren’t for the kin-lines, they’d have likely gone extinct altogether.
I’ve learned a lot about my relatives since that first night when I met Leer, as you can see. Now, without going into the whole deal, you may be wondering… so why don’t they just mate with human women, like their ancestors did? Well, they could. But that opens a whole other can of worms. I’ll probably get to the worms later.
Leer said, “Look. I just wanna jump your bones.”
I didn’t think twice. “So get to it. We both know you’re not leaving here without what you came for.”
We both held our breath.
I didn’t blink. I’m sure of it. But I must have. Because, not a half second later, he was on me. Well, he was kneeling between my legs, on the floor in front of me. Both his hands were on the arms of the chair. His nose was in my throat.
He was sniffing me.
Oh my God! There is nothing more sensual than a werewolf that is panting for you, getting ready.
They get so close that you are all but touching. Their pheromones fill your senses. You pant back. You can’t help it. And you become moist all over. Your skin sweats. Your crotch drips. Your mouth salivates.
At least, that’s what it’s like for kin.
You know, I’d always had great ears. Could hear sirens before they turned the corner, birds and insects that no one else heard. Smelled smoke long before anyone else did. Sneezed repeatedly over strong perfumes. Could taste faint nuances in unusual dishes. Now I know why.
And now I know what those senses were meant for.
I sniffed him back. With my eyes closed, I inhaled time and time again. I don’t know when I reached for him, cradled his face--licked his jaw.
But that was all it took. The next thing I knew, he lifted me up out of the chair and grumbled, “Where? We need more room.”
My apartment actually had a huge living room, but I didn’t question him. Instead, I clung to him, my arms around his neck, nuzzling him. “Mmmm. The bedroom’s in there.”
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