Praise for the writing of Camille Anthony

  

  

 Tales of the Quiet Kitty 1: Under the Cat’s Paw

  

  

 Under the Cat’s Pawis anything but quiet, it starts off with a bang and leaves you wanting more. Ms. Anthony’s description of this new world came to life for me and I was sucked in from page 1.Under the Cat’s Paw is a highly erotic read… Pick upUnder the Cat’s Paw ; you don’t want to miss this wild ride of discovery and love

 --Joy,Karenfindoutaboutnewbooks

  

  Both the hero and the heroine belong to non-Terran species both bearing high sexual drives and appetites. I was intrigued by the alien races introduced and by the fact that no humans seem to be playing a principal role (or at least not yet) in this serial. I look forward to the further adventures of the Quiet Kitty.

 --Mireya Orsini,Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  

 The story has a lot of interesting twists, particularly in the sex department. It definitely leaves room for a sequel, but without leaving you hanging in the air feeling like you ended in the middle of a story. I enjoyed reading it, and will look forward to the next in the series.

 --Julie Bryan,Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  

 Engrossing and extraordinary, this book will hold you interest until the very end. Willa is a sensual creature with a submissive nature. Brant is strong and in control, he knows how to use all the weapons in his sensual arsenal. Together this couple is dynamite both in and out of the bedroom. An interesting intergalactic adventure that is sure to be memorable in anyone's book, pick this one up ASAP.

  

 --Angel Brewer,TRS Blue

  

  

 Tales of the Quiet Kitty 1: Under the Cat’s Pawis now available from Changeling Press

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

 WEREWULF JOURNALS 1:

 WILD IN THE CITY

  

  

  

  

 Camille Anthony

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  



  

  

  

 Warning

  

 This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

 * * * * *

 This book is rated:

  



  

 Contains substantial explicit sexual content, graphic language, violence, and other material some readers may find offensive.

  

 Werewulf Journals 1: Wild in the City

 Camille Anthony

  

 This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  

  

 Published by

 Loose Id LLC

 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

 Carson CityNV89701-1215

 www.loose-id.com

  

  

 Copyright © 2004 by Camille Anthony 

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  

  

 ISBN 1-59632-014-1

 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  

  

 Printed in theUnited States of America


  
Editor: Maryam Salim

 Cover Artist: Angela Knight

  

  

  

 www.loose-id.com

 I Confront an Old Friend

  

 On the way home from a weeklong surveillance job, I detoured to have my monthly meeting with the city’s police commissioner. This month’s meeting was to acquaint me with a vicious crook. A drug lord who preyed on teenaged girls, sold poison-laced drugs to minors, and engaged in illegal gunrunning on the side. The Department had done what they could, compiled all the information undercover agents had gathered and delivered it to Kevin, who would pass it on to me.

 I already had several folders at home containing the dossiers ofSan Francisco ’s most unwanted. Untouchable by the law, judged to possess no redeeming spark of humanity, they now belonged to me. Tonight, at my sole discretion, Gerald Spenser, drug lord and boil--or another candidate--would cease to be a blemish on the fair ass of my city.

 For services rendered, I received a generous monthly stipend from the city referenced as payment for Licensed Certified Security Consultations. That’s just a big title meaning I do mop up work. Also, I dabbled in some private investigative work for the police department. Part of my job was securing the information needed to put scum in jail where they belonged. When I couldn’t get the dirt on them, I handled the problem in other, more permanent ways.

 Tired from a week trailing an illusive philandering spouse, I found myself yawning as the meeting dragged on into the late afternoon. I slumped further down on my chair, wondering how much longer the interminable discourse would drag on.

 As the meeting wrapped up, I jerked upright, coming alert as I sniffed emotional distress leaking from the commissioner. Strong and acrid, the scent scored my sensitive nostrils. Glancing up, I found his eyes riveted to my face, his expression one of intense loathing. When the meeting finished I made sure to linger behind until everyone else left and we were alone. I approached him, no longer willing to let his unspoken challenge go unanswered.

 “So, Kevin, what’s biting your ass?”

 “Nothing,” he mumbled, eyes lowered. He had been picking up the scattered papers, stuffing them haphazardly back into his briefcase, obviously trying to cut short our private chat before it began. His terse answer, blatantly untrue, pissed me off.

 “Come off it, Commissioner Morrison. I happen to know better. I can smell your agitation a block away. What the fuck is eating you?”

 Before the words cleared my mouth, his head snapped up. Slamming his hands down on the table, he snarled, “Back off, McCallum. Just do your gruesome little job and leave me the shit alone.”

 “Whoa! That was extreme. Where the hell’d it come from, anyway?” My eyes narrowed in a warning frown. “I don’t like my tail twisted when I’ve done nothing to warrant it.”

 “Oh, yeah? Well, for your information, lots of things happen that we don’t want to--like finding out your best buddy and partner is a fucking alien monster.”

 That hurt. Again. Still… Shit.

 Lips tight, I turned away and snatched up my leather biking jacket. Thrusting my arms into the sleeves with subdued violence, I gathered the rest of my stuff and made for the door. Halfway there, I changed my mind and turned back, realizing I had a few choice words for my former friend, words that had been seething inside me for years. I marched over and planted myself in front of him, eyes narrowed in years’ old anger.

 “You know, Kevin, back when we were partners on the police force, you and I used to get along fine. Then I made the mistake of saving your sorry ass--you’re welcome, by the way--and suddenly I was a rabid dog you couldn’t trust around your family.”

 I swallowed past a lump of remembered pain, wrestling to keep my cool. Meeting Kevin’s stony gaze, I took a deep breath and continued.

 “I broke Pack Law when I allowed you to find out about me. Being Wulf-in-Waiting to the Alpha of the Western America Pack wouldn’t have saved me if certain pack members learned what I’d done, so I was grateful when you promised to keep my information secret. I thought we were cool, that everything was copasetic between us. Instead, I ended up paying a higher price for your life than you did.”

 “How did you expect me to feel, to act? You’re not human, Hunter. You’re a…I don’t know what the hell you are, but I couldn’t take the chance you might one day turn on my family--”

 “Well, you’re right, there, bucko,” I drawled, resting a hip on the edge of the table. I looked him up and down, letting him see what I thought about his groundless fears. Like I’d ever hurt him or his.

 “I’m not human. Unlike you dirt monkeys, I’m Wulf, and we are loyal. If the tables had been turned, I never would have betrayed our friendship, left you alone to die--”

 He managed to look shamefaced. “I didn’t mean to do that, Hunter. I was in shock. I’d just seen a man I thought of as a brother turn into a giant wolf and rip the throat out of three men faster than I could have said, ‘Jack be nimble.’ Still, what scared the shit out of me was that you didn’t spit the flesh out--you ate it.” A harsh laugh grated in his throat. “All I could see was this mental picture of you looming over my kids, teeth bared, hungry…” He shook his head.

 I’d known what he thought all those years ago, but hearing it from his own mouth made my eyes burn. “I was the same person that held your newborn children and vowed to protect them with my life. We’d been through so much together. How could you just drive off and leave me to face those three perps?”

 A strangled sound from Kevin made me lower my gaze.

 “Maybe I should have hung about and talked my fears over with you. Maybe I overreacted when I got in the squad car and got the hell outta Dodge. Still, no matter what, you have to know I had no idea three more men were hiding in that alley. I never would have abandoned you to face that, alone.”

 Was he lying to himself? I sensed he believed what he was saying. So much water had flowed under that bridge that I decided to let it go.

 “I’ll give you that,” I conceded, grudgingly. “But what about later, when you transferred to another department without telling me? All of a sudden, invitations to the “just family” dinners and the late night pizza parties with Alison and my current--you used to call them my sex snack--dried up.”

 “I was too afraid to let you anywhere near my wife and kids.”

 “Damnyou, Kevin! I was your kids’ godparent. I never would have harmed them. I would have let you shoot me before I did anything to hurt them.”

 “Fat lot of good that would have done,” Kevin muttered, half under his breath. The bitterness in his voice and the disgruntled look on his face had me blinking, wondering if my friend had been jealous of me, of my abilities.

 Well, I’ll be damned! Everything clicked into place and I wanted to howl aloud over the years’ worth of hurt and frustration. He hadn’t feared me as much as he’d envied me. Not willing to face the truth, he’d cut me off from his family, leaving them to wonder at my abrupt absence from their lives. I had missed the visits and the dinners, but mostly, I had missed my time with his two children. I still did.

 “You sorry son of a monkey, you disgust me. Danielle and Kevin, Jr. have always been precious to me. Right now, they’re the only reason I’m not kicking your damned prejudiced ass into kingdom come.”

 “Well, hell, Hunter, what did you expect after you told me you wished you had let my--let me see, how did you put it?--’my punk ass’ die?”

 For the first time in years, I felt angry enough to let Kevin see the beginnings of my change. Fur flowed across my skin, rippling into existence under my clothing. A hair’s breadth away from giving in to rage, I swallowed down my fury and held back the metamorphosis. Speaking through a mouthful of fangs, I told him about himself.

 “Oh, for godssake, you fool, that was hurt and anger speaking! I might have said something asinine along those lines. After all, misery loves company, and I was mighty miserable back then. You’d just refused to let me see the kids. I took my responsibilities toward them seriously. When you stopped our visits, I was so angry I wanted to rip your heart out.”

 Kevin’s eyes glinted. His lips firmed and his chin angled up aggressively. For a moment, I thought he would say something. Instead, his chest rose in a massive sigh before he went back to stuffing papers into his briefcase.

 “Well, your comments didn’t do much to solidify our failing friendship.” He paused, glanced up at me and huffed. “Hunter, I don’t want to talk about this now. I have other things on my mind.”

 “You started it,” I mumbled. I hadn’t meant to bring up old hurts and insults, but he’d tweaked my tail, first.

 “My disturbance isn’t with you, today, McCallum.”

 “Yeah… right,”I drawled, crossing my arms as I sneered at him. “You’ve been nothing but disturbed since I got outted saving your bacon. In fact, I never have been able to understand why you called me in on that rogue wulf killing and eating rampage in the Heights a couple years back. Color me surprised when, answering an urgent call from the Police Commissioner ofSan Francisco , I found my old buddy and partner Kevin Morrison requesting my help.”

 The Commissioner turned a little green. “The deaths were gruesome and extremely messy, but I’d seen those kinds of wounds before. I’d seen how fast you moved and fought. If the killer proved to be the same as you, no human stood a chance in a fight with that monster. I figured the only way we could apprehend what I suspected to be the killer, was to get help. Your help.”

 I nodded sagely. “Takes a monster to catch a monster, huh?” I waved away Kevin’s half-hearted protest. “It’s okay, I was glad to help. At the time, I was just grateful you hadn’t targeted me as the one responsible for those seven grisly deaths.”

 The guilty look on his face had me shaking my head, a disbelieving laugh rumbling in my chest. “I’ll be damned. You did think it was me.”

 “I had to make sure. The best thing to do was have you under our surveillance to rule out that possibility. When the killer struck again, that put you in the clear.”

 “You never let on. All this time, I thought you had begun to trust me again, to realize I would never hurt you or your family. Instead, you were just using me. You’re using me now, but it galls you, doesn’t it?”

 Morrison cocked his head and stared at me, his steady gaze meeting my eyes without flinching. “I’ve told you I don’t have time for this, but you’re going to insist we hash this out now. Okay, you helped the city with that first case and some of the shakers and movers decided we should use your special training to help deal with the criminals who constantly manage to evade justice.

 “Everybody knows these crooks are guilty, yet somehow they keep slipping through our hands. Nothing can be pinned on them. They circumvent the legal system, laughing in the faces of the city’s prosecutors. Some patsy always shows up at the last minute to accept the blame, sign the confession and allow the guilty one to walk away from prison terms, or more, the death penalty.”

 Kevin glared at me, his smile a parody of friendliness. “I can’t stand letting a criminal walk away more than I can’t stand working with you. So I am prepared to work with you and keep your secret. Everyone here believes you to be retired Navy Seal as well as a retired police officer--”

 “I am.”

 He looked startled. I guess he was surprised about me having been Navy Seal. “As for trusting you…” He shook his head. “You’re a predator, Hunter. Humans are your natural prey. Isn’t it normal for distrust and hatred to exist between our two races?”

 “Kevin, no matter how often I come up against your prejudice, I still find it disconcerting.”

 “Prejudice?”

 “Don’t act so shocked. Species prejudice is as bad as the racial kind. I know firsthand how Blacks and Native Americans feel, labeled as being ‘not good enough,’ too different for true camaraderie or friendship.

 “Frankly, I find your attitude laughable. How can you humans actually believe yourselves superior to any truly sentient being? Look at you--self-styled demigods, mired in your own filthy social excrement, possessed of vomitous morals. You kill each other with unnatural impunity, preying upon the weak and helpless…not from necessity, but for gain. Name one other species that maims and destroys to gain glittering trinkets that will not fill one’s belly.”

 “Listen to yourself!” Kevin ordered, jaw tight, his rising anger a sharp smell seeping through his pores. “It doesn’t sound like you even like us. How soon would it have been before you turned on me and mine?”

 I sneered and let him see my fangs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t bite into you with dentures. You’d probably taste rancid because hatred sours your blood as well as your life. As for my species being predators, that’s true of both our people. Don’t kid yourself, Kevin. The cow doesn’t want you visiting her house anymore than you want me in yours.”

 “We kill to eat. We don’t go about slaughtering indiscriminately.”

 “You are fucking amazing!” I looked at him in disbelief, laughing harshly. “For beings so vicious and cruel to others, you dirt monkeys have such fragile egos. ‘We kill to eat.’“ I mocked him, my voice going high and singsong. “Tell that to the vegetarians among you, the ones who thrive without ever touching meat. Better yet, tell it to the cattlemen who slaughter thousands of cows just to drive up market prices. Oh, wait.” My voice dropped and chilled. “Why don’t you tell that to the parents of that insane fuck who killed their daughter, who slit her open so he could play with her--”

 Kevin gasped and went pale. He held up his hands. “Hunter, stop. Please!”

 “Why not just admit that we’re both animals, both predators? Your problem is you found out your species wasn’t the only one sitting at the top of the food chain and you couldn’t handle it. Well, here’s a reality check: Your race was never King of the Hill and Werewulves aren’t the only otherworldly creatures among you. There are things out there that send us scurrying to huddle in our dens. But, hey, stay ignorant as long as you can.”

 Kevin let out a shaky breath. Fear rolled off his skin in dense oily clouds of musk. His mouth opened and shut, opened again. I held up a hand, stalling whatever he planned to say.

 “You don’t have the time, remember? That brings us back to our starting point. What the hell is eating you?”

 “I think we’ve found one of those ‘otherworldly’ creatures you just mentioned.”

  

 I Set My Young Cousin Straight

  

 The wind swept through my hair as I sped towardDailyCity and home along the 101. Cutting in front of a slow moving truck, I zipped between two maroon P. T. Cruisers and roared into the diamond lane. Throttling down on the Harley, I let her rip, reveling in the freedom and joy of having a fast, powerful cycle beneath me. The only thrill that came close was the feel of a big woman trapped between my thighs.

 Handling the bike and maneuvering on autopilot, I let my mind dwell on the recent conversation I’d had with Kevin.

 He might have tried to hide his true feelings, but it’s hard for a human to do that around Wulves. Luckily for his self-esteem, I have had far more years schooling my expressions and do a far better job keeping my beliefs to myself. Working with humans has made me appreciate the wisdom my father drilled into me. It is rude, not to mention unnecessarily cruel, to let an inferior associate learn how socially unacceptable they are. The longer I dealt with species-phobic people like Kevin Morrison and his ilk, the more I saw the wisdom in Dad’s teaching.

 The miles melted away under my wheels as I flew down the road, the yellow dashes on the black macadam blending into one blurred line. The ride helped me put the meeting into perspective, helped me control my short-tempered edginess. The wind scoured away the unpleasant memories, leaving me calm and relaxed by the time I locked my bike in the garage next to my other baby--the special edition Lexus.

 I was so not ready for the sight that met my eyes when I walked into my den. Jaw dropping in disbelief, I came to a screeching halt.

 Someone had trashed my apartment.

 I stalked through the place, performing a lightning-quick but thorough reconnaissance.

 A bomb had hit and the fallout was everywhere. Clothes--multi-colored drifts of abandoned cotton, flannel and tweed--festooned the plump cushions of the two armchairs and couch. They reeked of stale body odor and the rancid stink of dried food drippings.

 Half-crumpled bags of spicy barbeque potato chips listed drunkenly atop the end tables, spilling their stale, meager contents onto the already soiled surfaces. Next to the bags, remnants of days-old Chinese food sat congealing in their battered cartons, alongside a weird assortment of half-eaten hotdogs, fuzzy French fries and barbequed ribs. The nose-wrinkling aromas burned my sensitive nostrils, raising my blood pressure and making my hackles rise.

 A complete circuit of the seven-room duplex brought me back to the living room. Except for my bedroom suite and office--both locked, off-limits to all but me--no room had escaped devastation.

 “That’s it! This is the last fucking straw,” I growled, anger drawing my lips tight against my teeth. “I’m through putting up with that puppy’s disrespectful distemper. I’m gonna chew his ass a new hole!”

 I marched down the hall, slammed open my cousin’s bedroom door and stormed over to his bedside to glare down at his sleeping form.

 He appeared to be having pleasant dreams. The randy little puppy had one hand curled around his distended cock, which stood out from his concave belly like a massive battering ram. Not feeling particularly impressed, seeing I had him by a good two inches both ways, I gave his woody a stinging flick with my thumb and middle finger. “Get up and bring it down, Spot!” Catching him by the scruff of the neck and the tender lobe of his right ear, I hauled his scrawny ass up off the mattress.

 He woke up yelping.

 In his distress, he’d reverted to fur-speak. Amid pleading yowls, yips and whimpers of pain, I headed back toward the living room, his captive earlobe in tow, his caterwauling sounding like music to my ears. I smiled, enjoying the hell out of being the cause of his painful cries.

 “We’ve reached the end of your line, little cousin,” I warned, “and my tolerance ends here.”

 Dragging his scrawny ass around the place, I forced him to acknowledge all the evidences of his slobbishness. My angry voice, rumbling like thunder, indicated the nearness of my change.

 “Despite repeated warnings, you’ve never done your share caring for this place. You refuse to vacuum or help with the laundry. You dump your clothes wherever you take them off and--” I paused, sniffing cautiously at a white cardboard tub, “--this Peking duck is so old, it’s turned into San Francisco Sewer Sausage.”

 The pup whined, spouting some silly nonsense about being too tired after work. I twisted his ear hard and he abandoned that excuse.

 “That shit won’t wash with me, Spot.” My eyes narrowed down to slits, I shook him by the scruff of the neck. “Aunt Sophie would have bit your tail off before she let you foul her home like this. Even if she hadn’t, I will. As of right now, your loafing days are numbered!”

 Over the years, the Elders have sent me some sorry-assed pups, but I swear by the Moon, Fortrayn is the worst! Of course, all the other youngsters exhibited differing foibles--laziness and slobbishness, greedy intemperance--the usual, normal kid stuff. I always let them all slide a month or so, then cracked the whip and nudged them into shape before shooing them out of my nest.

 Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy helping the Elders out by taking in the occasional savage cub, housebreaking it and teaching it survival tactics for the city. Working with the pups keeps me connected to the Pack, to home and helps me provide a valuable service to my father, the Pack Alpha.

 San Franciscois a big, bustling city--tight-packed and crammed with teeming masses of people--constantly infringing on the edges of one’s perception. Cities this frenetic tend to overwhelm our kind. They get the better of us quickly and dangerously.

 I guess you could say I had a finger on the pulse of the city that others lack. Not only did I know the ropes, I could braid them into macramé hangers to hold my plants. Moreover, being the acknowledged heir to the leader of the pack, who better to dump our misfits on? I mean, who better to train and guide our budding youth?

 I understood their fantasies, having had the same ones, once upon a time. Dreams of living large and loud were part of the reason I left home. My father’s inability to let me make my own mating choice was the other.

 Father never understood why I didn’t want to settle for the pureblooded bitch he had picked out for me. So her genes were pure--that wasn’t sufficient reason for me to give up my autonomy. Just because Linnea had been an energetic fuck-partner throughout our randy adolescence hadn’t meant I’d wanted to live or mate with her on a permanent basis. Besides, we were too different. She’d held to the old ways of separation and seclusion from mankind. Back then, I’d leaned toward the liberal view that we could peacefully co-exist with humans. I liked mingling with humans and even called some my friends. Outlooks and opinions that different was a recipe for a lot of stress in a wulf’s den. I didn’t need or want the hassle.

 Father tried to press my obedience and grew angry when I refused to bow to his choice. As Pack Prime and Alpha of our pack, it was his right to consider my refusal a challenge. To avoid a dominance fight I left home, choosing to let my father live. As a parting shot, I told Dad if he wanted Linnea bred so badly, he’d have to breed her himself.

 Years later, recalling the look on Dad’s face still made me chuckle. We’d both known the fur would have flown if he’d ever tried to bring another female into the family den. My mother was no feeble bitch, but the Pack Prima, well capable of keeping order in her own den. Mom would have chewed his balls off.

 My trip down memory lane proved advantageous for Fortrayn, ‘cause my anger lessened with the tension-cracking release of laughter. Abandoning my musings over my long-ago past, I went back to contemplating his numerous faults.

 In all my years of training youngsters, I’d never come across a pup like Fortrayn. Worse than his cleanliness-challenged behavior, was his disinclination to help with the monthly meal. Damn it…it just didn’t seem normal to do nothing, to leave the planning, shopping and procuring all to me.

 Granted, planning is rightfully my department, being both the elder and the Alpha; however, everything else should have been a joint venture.

 Humph!Only ‘joint venture’ that little slob understood was the one he monthly gnawed at the sole expense of my time and effort. Well, no more. Fortrayn needed major attitude adjusting and I was fed-up enough to get the ball rolling.

 “You’ll bring your tail home no later than eleven to clean up and help plan tonight’s hunt.” I issued the stern command while tossing him across the room hard enough his sorry rump bounced on the cluttered couch. “And do not even think about going to bed until my den is totally cleansed of this entire mess.”

 “Eleven? Ah, come on, Hunter. Lighten up, why don’t you? Tonight’s the Reidmar photography showing and I promised to stay late and lock up the gallery after serving the refreshments. The party won’t let up before eleven-thirty. If I call off now,Rosa will have my head!”

 Faster than thought, I flashed across the room, my hand around his throat, cutting off his whining complaint. “You listen to me, scud-brain,” I snapped, one-handedly shaking him by the neck. “I am Alpha in this den. If I tell you to piss on your boss, she’d better be stained yellow the next time I see her!”

 Cuffing the youngling upside the head, I growled my last warning. “You’d better decide which you want to save…your job or your life, because I am two seconds away from accepting the dominance challenge you keep throwing at me, and that fight will be to the death. Do you challenge?”

 “No, Sir!” The boy gulped, cautiously slinking down to the floor.

 “Do you really want me to come to your job and collect you?”

 Carefully tilting his head up to gaze over my shoulder, exposing his throat, Fortrayn whimpered and shook his head no.

 I crouched low, leaned over him and pushed my fanged muzzle in his face. The idiot had enough sense to hold still, hardly daring to breathe.

 “That’s right, you sick-minded puppy,” I rumbled against his quivering flesh. “Breathe hard, make one wrong move…and I will rip out your guts, stuff them down your throat and ship your sorry, wet-behind-the-ears ass back to the farm in a box with no holes.”

 In reprimand, I nipped his chin hard enough to draw blood. He yipped like a baby cub, abandoning human speech in his fear and pain. For that childish display, I shifted to mid-change--our enormously strong, fighting form of human/wulf capable of standing on hind legs--and buffeted him good, landing blow after punishing blow on his pale skin. When I finally let him up, the heavy, acrid scent of his fear rose up, permeating the air between us, another embarrassing failure for him.

 “Uncle Hunter… Alpha,”he stammered, hanging his head. “I am sorry. I mean you no disrespect, but I…really have t-to go to work.”

 Trembling before my half-changed form, he chanced a glance upward. When his pale brown eyes dared to meet mine, I growled low and menacingly, narrowing my eyes in irritation. When my head lowered in warning, he dropped to one knee, quickly adding, “That is, if I have your permission?”

 ‘Uncle’ is a term of respect among our family and his use of the term, along with his lowered body posture, went a long way toward placating my anger. I nodded once in acceptance of his apology.

 “We still have a problem.” I gestured around the room, indicating the clutter and debris. “I expect you to clean up this.” My words thundered in a bass roar, my voice difficult to control in half-change.

 “I will, Sir!” the pup ardently promised, bending over the piles of clothes, filth and trash littering my living space. Straightening up with his arms full, he said, “I will tellRosa I have to be home…uh…due to a…uh… familyemergency. I’ll come right home and be ready when you need me at eleven, then I will clean up the rest of this junk.”

 “See that you do.”

 I carelessly tossed his clutter out of my way, throwing dirty clothes at him until I had cleared off enough space for me to sit down on the couch. “Heed what I say, puppy. You have enjoyed your last meal at my expense and effort. My new work ethic for you is simple: You don’t work--you don’t eat.”

 “I understand, Sir.” His muffled voice came from under the mountain of clothes.

 “Get out of my sight!”

 “Yes, Sir!”

 He dribbled a trail of clothes behind him as he scurried out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind his fleeing figure.

  

 I Decide to Take a Stroll Downtown

  

 What is the younger generation coming to? Shaking my head, I picked up the remote and settled back on the couch to surf through the TV channels. I had hours to fill before Moonrise, when I could safely change and indulge my hunting nature in the wilds of the nighttime city streets. It’s easy for someone to mistake a wulf for a dog in the dark.

 I needed distraction. Not in the mood for Matriarch TV, I flipped past Star Trek. I’d only had to watch a couple of episodes to realize Uhura, not Kirk, held the Alpha position in that outfit.

 As usual, HBO had revolving reruns scheduled. It wasn’t until I’d subscribed for the year that I found out HBO only runs new movies during their promotional drives and the first three days of the month to keep us suckers hooked. Like all new subscribers, I actually believed they showed new movies nightly. Yeah, yeah, they saw me coming. So bite me, okay?

 Anyway, the first of the month had passed and TV Land had nothing to offer. After one brooding glance around my quiet, dirty duplex, I decided to go out for a pre-dinner walk.

 Tossing aside the remote, I ducked into my room, tossed off my work clothes and tugged on tight, button-fly black jeans before stepping into a pair of comfortable leather sandals. Buford was ready to play and I had a hard time tucking him down my left leg. I fastened the jeans, squeezing my cock behind the straining buttons, stashed some cash in my wrist pouch. Once I pulled on my favorite black leather biker jacket, I was ready to head into the city.

 The evening was beautiful, the chill October air invigorating. The weather rode the fine line between balmy harvest nights and blustery autumn days, clear and crisp with just a touch of brisk breeze to energize me.

 Goddess above, but the coming night sang to me! The blending of the setting sun’s magenta glow with that of the bright cold radiance of the rising harvest moon reminded me why this time of evening is called twilight--two lights. The beauty was almost overwhelming. I wanted to throw back my head and howl my joy to the pristine sky. Not even the constant thrum of human misery and noise could dampen my rising spirits.

 Wandering the streets, I meandered in a haphazard pattern, no particular destination in mind, soaking up the impressions of the city. About a mile and some past my neighborhood, I came upon the lower economic district. Three blocks away, inside a broken-down housing duplex that should have been condemned years ago, the sound of furious fucking carried on the thin air of the waning day. I paused, ears pricked as I caught the guttural curses falling from a man’s lips.

 Rape?

 My hackles rose, the protector in me coming alert. I sprang into action, covering two blocks before the woman’s wild, tortured-- well, hell!--ecstatic cries reached me. This close, I could smell their commingled odor. This couple had been together long enough that they had taken on each other’s scent.

 This fevered coupling constituted no rape. Rather, it celebrated the violence of passion given and received between two lovers. My tension gave way to wry amusement. Smiling in sympathy with the man, I closed my eyes and leaned against a low brick wall, deliberately listening in.

 I could almost visualize the male over his bitch, claiming her in a rage of possessiveness and masculine power--the only power poverty allowed him. Straining my ears, I heard the rhythmic pounding of his hips slamming against her pelvis. I somehow doubted he gave the physical state of their home a thought as he took his mate: roaring aloud his claim to the female, the reigning monarch of his castle marked off his territory.

 Their loud, uninhibited fucking reminded me of home. It brought to mind the joyous, public fucking that mated couples indulged in, often drawing the curious eyes of the young, randy cubs. Drinking in the distant sounds of their climaxes--his low-growled grunts and groans of love, her warbled cries and moans of surrender--my own cock stretched in envious hunger.

 I wondered if the woman appreciated her good fortune. Life could be worse than having a true alpha male as mate--one who takes the time and effort to spread her out and fuck her often--bestowing slices of heaven amidst the hell they resided in.

 As a former officer of the law, I had seen life at its gritty worst. Overhearing this interlude, knowing a male was spending quality time with his mate, was a refreshing change.

 Pushing away from the wall, I continued my stroll. The more I thought about what I had just heard, the greater I felt my own lack. As I slowly left the vicinity, I sighed, battling the melancholy trying to smother my joy.

 Lately, I’d grown resentful of my ever-present loneliness. Because I was heir to the Alpha of Western America Pack and a mature, healthy wulf, everyone was constantly urging me to mate. I would love nothing better than to enter into a committed relationship with a female I could love, cherish and nightly attempt to impregnate. Hell, Buford and I were tired of living in a perpetual state of sexual hunger because human couplings just didn’t satisfy a wulf’s total craving.

 Unfortunately, I had yet to find that illusive creature: a mate--wulf bitch or human-derived Breed designed by our scientists, ordained by manipulation, nature and fate to be a perfect breeder, capable of birthing a wulf’s pups.

 Tonight, I was hornier than usual, due to the case I had just completed. Damned thing had dragged on and on, so it had been a long, dry spell between playtimes for me.

 Buford pressed excitedly against my jeans, impatient for our special after-hunt fuck. Picturing my plans for later, my hand dropped to my aching cock. I rubbed it through my jeans, grimacing when it jerked and stretched in need of tighter, hotter friction. I glanced around, made sure no one could see, and whipped Buford out. Poor thing was flushed, hurting, distended and swollen. I gave him a couple of sympathy jerks to take a little pressure off the building head of steam. With a calming pat and a few words of consolation, I tucked him back in and buttoned up, reminding myself that only a short wait stood between having both my culinary and sexual hungers sated.

 A plaintive howl rose on the early evening air, interrupting my train of thought and informing me another of my kind prowled the city. The lonely, haunting cry drew my mind back to the beauty of the coming night. On the horizon, the moon hung low, the sight of that bright, mysterious beacon soothing my agitation and distracting my troubled thoughts from my escalating hungers.

 My smile but a mere lifting of my lips, I glanced about and found myself in a remote section of San Fran, off the beaten track but still well within the greater boundaries I had previously marked as my private territory. This small segment of city was unfamiliar to me. Though claimed, it remained unmarked and, right now, devoid of human watchers. With deft, quick motions, I unbuttoned my jeans and tugged them and my boxers down. Freeing my cock, I sprayed the corner of the building and the alley walls. I nodded in satisfaction. The strong smell of my claiming wafted up, carrying my signature pheromones. Any wulf prowling about had better take heed and avoid trespassing on my grounds this evening.

 Man, was I ready to howl. It had been a while since I’d really let loose and I had got a truckload of pent-up lust and sexual heat to dissipate. The woman I chose tonight would have her hands--and her cunt--full of randy wulf.

 My mind still focused on the coming events, I headed back towards my main territory. As I strolled, I gazed at the starry sky, stunned by the brilliance and beauty of the twinkling panoply. The oversized moon hung low in the star-studded heavens, swollen and pristine in her beauty, her chill light pouring down. In response, my beast rose up, beating against the fragile walls of skin that imprisoned it.

 “Soon, Mother,” I crooned, throwing my head back and emitting a soft howl, joining in the chorus of renewed greetings offered by the others of my kind. My anticipation grew as I waited for true dark to creep over the city.

 Too soon to change, loath to go back to my dirty, empty duplex, I pondered my options. I decided to head over to the little corner Mom and Pop’s Italian Dining parlor in the midst of my territory, my mood now geared toward something hot and tender with a lot of red sauce.

 The restaurant lies about twenty blocks from my apartment and I was currently ten or more blocks away, coming at it from the other side. As I strolled along, the night wind carried the life of the city to my quivering nostrils and I breathed it in, engaging my senses in processing the never-ending flow of information. I felt good, full of vigor and possessed of a powerful appetite. I was getting hungry, too.

  

 I Encounter an Intriguing Smell

  

 Two blocks out from my destination, an elusive scent brought me up short. Sexual hunger roared through me, causing my stomach muscles to clench while my cock stiffened. Fighting an almost overwhelming urge to change and take on fur, I angled toward the maddening aroma, breaking into a ground-eating sprint.

 Coming to an abrupt halt, muscles quivering and nose a’twitch, I found myself trying to wag a tail that had not--yet, anyway--burst through my skin. I stared, instantly lost in lust. Like a damned pointer spaniel, my cock tented the stiff material of my jeans, aiming with unerring precision at what had drawn me from five blocks away.

 Oh, Mother above, her aroma knocked my good intentions, my long-held beliefs--my world --sideways, tilted it upside down. Holding grimly to fast-shredding control, barely preventing a precipitous change, I battled to breathe. The heat radiating from my face told me my eyes glowed with the golden otherworldly gleam of imminent pre-change.

 Fur rippled and flowed along my back and down my arms, coating my goose-pebbled flesh. My mouth widened to accommodate gleaming fangs. I cursed. My nostrils flared, drinking in the female’s mouthwatering aroma. Wrestling my body back to a more normal human state proved difficult.

 She looked and smelled… edible.Her dark, creamy-looking skin gave off the richest, darkest, lustiest fragrance ever to waft across my nostrils. She smelled and looked like living chocolate, a confection against which I had no willpower.

 Despite the werewulf’s natural partiality to protein, we all tended to have a sweet tooth. Me, I was an avowed chocoholic, and rather than fight temptation, I indulged my demanding weakness at every opportunity. Glancing down at my distended fly, I saw Buford knew opportunity when he sniffed it.

 Note to self: Confirm reservations for late-night chocolaty snack.

 The black woman leaned against the streetlight lamppost situated on the corner of Divisidero and Webster, her wide, lush hips riding the thick pole. She wore a “come-hither” look, and not much else, that almost had me cumming hither and instantly deciding I’d soon be cumming in her.

 Did I say chocolate? Make that fudge: Dark and chunky, thick and creamy. Licking my chops…um…lips, I minutely examined every inch of the well-displayed feminine flesh.

 One generously curved leg, bent at the knee, braced her ample torso against the metal post. Her sultry stance caused her tight red dress to bunch up around her thick thighs, affording me a most pleasant view. My lips peeled back in a smile until it suddenly occurred to me that any male on the street could avail himself of the same sight. My hackles rose and a territorial snarl trickled from my mouth. There were too many wulves out tonight. I needed to get her off this corner.

 Her alluring body drew my eyes, a silent siren calling to me. My anger dissolved as a sigh of utter longing lifted my chest.

 By the Moon, justlook at her! I smacked my lips. I simply adored big thighs and, by golly, she had the roundest, fattest thighs--no wobbly loose cellulite, but tight, packed haunches. All that buttery-smooth, creamy dark flesh displayed for my benefit made my mouth water. An ache swelled in my balls and Buford grew impossibly hard.

 A thick thigh was quickly becoming an endangered species nowadays. It was rare for a fellow to see ones like these on public display since women had started torturing their bodies into thin, unsightly shapes.

 I once glanced through a female body builder magazine in the grocery store. The pictures were obscene. Naked women--hard everywhere they should be soft (Ouch! Bruises-Are-Us) --gazed out at me through crushed, celluloid eyes, their poor little nipples sitting atop hillocks of iron and stone, looking lost and forlorn. I remembered thinking what a rocky ride their bodies would provide and decided I’d pass. It would be more pleasurable fucking a steel plate.

 I knew I wasn’t the only one who thought this way about this issue, since most of the males of my species--certainly this male--wanted a woman with some meat on her. We wanted rebound when we slammed into our woman, rebound and cushion. “More bounce to the ounce!” was my motto.

 In fact, given a chance, I’d hop a time machine to go back and murder that damned Twiggy model chick. It would be worth snapping her skinny stick ass in two, to stop her from screwing with more than half the population’s thinking, ruining females’ bodies for us males.

 Where in hell was Jules Verne when you needed him?

 I went back to devouring the striking woman. She might have been five-feet-six, seven inches…tops. It was hard to tell, seeing she had on a pair of bright red, strappy kick-ass heels that elevated her at least three more inches. Closing my eyes, I visualized taking her for the first time. She’d be wearing nothing but those sexy fuck-me shoes while I held her gently rounded ankles wide as I pounded between her generous thighs. Buford leaped at the thought.

 From across the street, I could see her lovely, dark, cappuccino complexion glowing with natural health, her lively golden brown, almond-shaped eyes flashing and sparkling with life. Her wide cheekbones balanced her broad nose, its flattened bridge flaring into nicely proportioned nostrils. I had no idea what she painted her full pouty lips with to make them shine so. I only knew I wanted to lick them clean until they glistened with the more natural sheen of my saliva.

 A little red number of a purse dangled from her shoulder on a long, thin gold chain, swaying against her waist, which indented deeply enough to let me know where her top stopped and her bottom began. Everywhere else, she had plenty of flesh--built-in love handles, enough to allow a male a good grip.

 Her fat nipples pushed audaciously against the tight bodice of her sequined dress, demanding my notice. Boy, did I notice. Those plump, heavy breasts screamed at me.

 Shapely and full, her generous mounds had me licking my lips, longing to have her chocolate melt in my mouth and my hands. Meanwhile, those impudent nubs, masquerading as giant, bite-sized candies, had my jaw aching. I barely resisted the temptation to walk over there and bite down on the twin peaks straining against the constricting fabric of her bodice.

 The tight swath of red, sequined material passing as a dress faithfully delineated her round belly and jiggly, high-riding ass. Damn, but that bottom looked perfect for some slap-and-dive activity. I started to pant, tongue literally hanging out of my mouth at the thought of how snug Buford would be as I inched up that tight channel, all that flesh squeezing in on either side. My pulse stuttered and my knees weakened as I envisioned that dark, sinful glide.

 She had it all: Thighs, an ass to die for and a face beautiful enough to launch ships. Not to mention nipples a yard long. Yummy! What more could a wulf ask for?

 Pussy!

 The only thing that roused my appetites faster than a nipple-topped confection of smooth, buttery tit was the smell of sweetly fragrant pussy. Yeah, the one dessert I loved more than chocolate was cherry pie--hot, juicy and ripe--exactly like the one tucked snugly between dark, rounded thighs, smelling up my world from across the street.

 Oh, this woman had me reeling in glorious, mind-rattling lust, stumped by the delicious choices facing me. There was just so much of her; I wanted to grab it all at once. Breasts, thighs, ass, pussy--I didn’t know where to begin, though I knew exactly how I planned us to end. And I knew I didn’t have much time.

 For once, the San Franciscan air was distressingly clear of smog. The early evening breeze blew brisk enough to carry scents far and fast. With my luck, the damned street would soon be swarming with hungry wulves.

 A quick swipe dealt with the drool sliding out the corner of my mouth. I gave a tug on my jacket, straightened it. Gathering up my resolve, I stepped off the curb, anxious to secure the prize before another wulf caught a whiff of what I had found.

  

 I Invite Her to Be Dinner

  

 By the Moon, I had never sniffed a more lushly fragrant pussy. I had to get some of that! I walked over to her, mind spinning in a sexual delirium caused by the rich, gut-wrenching smell of her chocolate-covered cherry sex.

 I wanted nothing more than to skip the opening conversational gambit and dive right into her, wallow in her sweetness. Calling upon all my reserves of character, I resisted temptation. Even I knew I couldn’t get away with simply whisking her around the corner to a dark alley and fucking her against a convenient wall. I needed to pull back, proceed carefully, and rein in my almost out-of-control lust. I’d gain nothing by spooking her and possibly scaring her away.

 “Mhmm, mhmm, mhmm --don’t you look good? Hello, lovely lady.”

 She cocked an eyebrow at me and continued to lean.

 I let my gaze roam up and down her in slow, open approval. “You look good enough to eat. Can I interest you in dinner?” I smiled, wondering if the classic simplicity of the direct approach would work for me this evening.

 San Francisco was a liberal city--one of the reasons I chose it as a dwelling place, where just about anything goes. Still, due to the recent public outcry against the two police officers found brutalizing some of the city’s poor blacks, the volatile issue of race relations had again taken a front row seat in local news.

 While I, personally, had no qualms about light meat or dark, I had no idea if my chosen snack harbored such biases. Would she balk at fucking a white guy? I mean, some black women just don’t do white, even while conducting “business”-- ifshe truly was engaged in the business. Up close, I noted her scent belied any recent coital activity.

 Tilting her head back against the light pole, she gazed up at me, eyes widening as she took in my bulk. A flash of fear came and went so fast I almost missed it. I would have discounted it if the brackish musk of fear hadn’t risen, sharp and tantalizing on the still evening air.

 “I’m a working girl. I don’t have time for you if dinner is all you’re interested in.” Her sultry voice purred, delivering the matter-of-fact statement in the dulcet tones of a sex queen. With difficulty, I resisted the urge to drop to my knees and offer up worship at the altar of her queen-sized body.

 Shivers ran down my spine and the fine hairs at the back of my neck stiffened. Hair wasn’t the only thing that stiffened on me. Ol’ Buford sat up and waved high…er, that is, waved hi as in “hello.”

 My lips parting in a hungry smile, I indicated the massive bulge in my pants. “Does this look ‘interested’ enough for you?” A feeling of gratification swept over me when her eyes dropped to the flagpole tenting my jeans then snapped back up to meet mine, wide with a mixture of trepidation and awe.

 I let my own avid gaze drop to her wide pelvis, felt saliva pool in my mouth. “In a manner of speaking, you could say I am interested only in dining, seeing I fully intend to feast on you.”

 She looked startled, flustered and intrigued. I tucked her response away for later contemplation. They were not the usual reactions of an experienced woman of the evening.

 “Look, your eyes tell me your sexual appetite is roused, too, but right now, all I want is to become better acquainted. Later, we can indulge our other hungers.” I cupped my straining cock, deliberately thumbing the thick ridge of flesh through my pants. “Besides, I can hear your tummy rumbling, so I think the first thing I’d better do is satisfy your cravings for food.” I stared into her eyes while adding, “You’re gonna need your strength, because I’m not into sedate fucking.”

 As I spoke, her wide amber brown eyes gave my package and me a lengthy, contemplative perusal, as if weighing the benefits of accepting my invitation. As she looked me over, I wondered how I appeared to her. Did she see what I saw whenever I looked in the bathroom mirror? Did she find me appealing? Can any male ever predict what a woman will find attractive?

 The best I could say about my features was they fit together. My sexual partners have told me I am handsome. No one has ever called me ugly. However, I wasn’t vain enough to take for granted she would consider me attractive or appealing on a strictly visual level. Wulves exude a pheromone that lures even human females, so I expected her response to that natural attraction. But what did she see with her human eyes?

 People tell me I look to be anywhere between thirty to forty years old. I am 6’ 5” and weigh two hundred and ninety-seven pounds, packed with solid muscle. A few gray hairs highlighted my dark, shoulder-length shaggy hair, worn loose tonight. I usually bundled the unruly mop back into a haphazard braid. The rest of me consisted of hazel eyes, a sharp blade of a nose, wide shoulders, slim waist and long, muscular runner’s legs. My feet and hands were large, my fingers long with strong nails, and I was living proof the age-old adage--big hands plus big feet equals big cock. The proof usually stood perpetually at half-mast since Buford never got enough pussy to make the old dog lie limp.

 “Okay, big guy, why not!”

 I stared at her, not sure how to respond, having braced myself for a “no.” My brow creased in a momentary frown and my eyes narrowed in displeasure as it struck me just how giddy her “yes” made me feel.

 “Big guy? Are you referring to Buford or me?” I boldly palmed the part in question, deliberately trying to shake her up, to render her off-balance. It’s a lonely feeling, thinking you are the only one swinging in the damned breeze of an adolescent-like crush.

 Her whiskey-tinted eyes swept my groin, lingered on the ‘growing attraction’ before lifting her stunned gaze to my face. I had stepped close, crowding her, and she had to tilt her head back a ways to meet my hungry grin.

 “I guess I could assign that greeting to both of you.” She surprised me by touching a daring finger to the cloth-covered outline of my cock, sending a frisson of heat straight to my balls.

 “You seem to be a tall drink of water, hon--both upright and sideways.” She tapped my jeans-covered helmeted head in a practiced, bodacious gesture.

 “Sit down, dumb ass!” I hissed at Buford. The stupid thing exploded to full length until the bulbous head poked out the relaxed leg of my boxers. The thick shaft, etched in graphic bas-relief beneath the cloth of my jeans, reached to within three inches of my knee. I suppose, for decency’s sake, I should wear a cup, but I couldn’t stand caging Buford like that.

 Her eyes widening, she skimmed a measuring finger just above my cock, verifying its girth and length. “Blessed assurance, this is a big guy!” She gasped in awe. “If cocks were snakes, this fella would be an anaconda! You must have smuggled it in, ‘cause that monster can’t be legal in the U.S.!”

 Her nervous chuckle set all her lovely, delicious flesh to jiggling, distracting me from the curious dichotomy between her words, actions and emotions. I kept catching brief flashes of anxiety and nose-wrinkling whiffs of rank fear rolling off her skin. Ordinarily, my police training would have had me investigating those hints, but with Buford stretching and flexing under her arousing ministrations, my concentration centered on only one thing.

 “Old Buford might be a boa, but it’s your sweet pussy that will be doing the constricting.” I teased her, preening like the greenest pup, widening my legs so she could further admire my equipment. I flexed my hips and rubbed my erection against her hovering finger, letting her get a feel of Buford’s hot, hard readiness. My balls drew up at the touch of just that one finger. I shuddered, fighting the change, anticipation and lust riding me hard.

 What the fuck was wrong with me? I was no wet-behind-the-ears pup and I knew better than to get too entangled with this streetwalker. She was dessert, a late night snack and nothing else.

 Despite reminding myself how things should be, I felt inordinately pleased when she peeled herself away from her post and tucked her hand under my outstretched arm. Proudly, I escorted her up six blocks and across the busy street separating us from the restaurant.

 Her fingers slid under my sleeve and wrapped around my wrist. Her hand felt soft on the hot skin of my flesh, her womanly aroma drove spikes of lust into my balls. My beast awoke fully and strained at the leash, fighting my attempts at control, not content to wait until later. My traitorous insides struggled to get outside, greedy to savor the luscious scents flooding my olfactory senses. With increasing difficulty, I wrestled the beast back and down, determined to retain the ascendancy over my base inclinations.

 We arrived at the restaurant to find a long line outside the door. Taking advantage of the wait, I placed her in front of me, wrapped my long arms around her so they met under her breasts and snuggled her close.

 She filled my arms completely, feeling so good, so right cradled in my embrace, that I didn’t even try to resist her allure. Tightening my arms about her, I pressed my cock against her dimpled rump, gently grinding against her cushiony ass.

 To my delight, she squeezed back, causing Buford to leap with a little dance of joy. A spurt of pre-cum oozed out of my eager shaft, dampening the front of my jeans, while inside, my beast roared with ravening need, pushing against my weakening resolve.

 Hunger flooded every part of me and I knew food would not distract the beast for long.

 * * * * *

 “I’ll pay you for your time,” I promised, eating her with my eyes. We sat in a semi-private booth near the back of the restaurant. She occupied the wide cushion in lonely splendor while I sat across from her on a spindle-backed chair, having chosen that seat so I could better observe her.

 I relished her culinary enjoyment of our appetizer of crisp-crusted Italian bread with a side of seasoned olive oil. While waiting for our main dish we indulged in small talk, covering everything from local politics to world terrorism. Let me correct that. She waited on the main dish. I planned to take a nibble out of my dessert, first.

 “Damn straight, you will!”

 “Huh?” I’d been lost in lustful anticipation, my mind occupied with visions of her laid out on my bed, in my arms, under my cock. The harsh note in her voice had me jerking my wandering thoughts under control and focusing them on the conversation at hand.

 “Much as I might want to, I can’t afford to do freebies.” She paused to bite off a chunk of garlic bread and chased it with a large gulp of Sprite. Her eyes closed and she leaned her head back, a small smile playing about her full lips as she chewed the softened bread. She made eating a sensuous adventure. I loved watching her taste her food, loved seeing her savor the different textures and tastes of each individual item. Her unembarrassed hedonism was refreshing.

 I shook my head. “I meant I would pay you for this time, for gracing me with your presence during dinner.”

 A dark brown lock of bouncy hair fell over her forehead. Giving in to temptation, I leaned over and fingered it before brushing it off her face. It curled about my hand, soft, springy and full of life, without a touch of grease in evidence.

 “Hey! Don’t mess with my ‘do’!” She playfully swatted my hand away, and then patted her curls back into place.

 “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. Ever since I saw Eddie Murphy’s movie, Coming To America, I’ve wondered what Jeri curls felt like.”

 “You still don’t know, since technically, my do is goddess wave and not Jeri curls. That’s okay, though. I don’t expect a white man to know the difference unless he worked in a beauty salon.”

 “Goddess wave, huh? That fits you to a T. I notice your hair isn’t as greasy as the folks’ hair in the movie.”

 She laughed, throwing back her head full of corkscrew curls. “I know just the scene you’re talking about. The one where the guy’s father, mother and grandmother sat on the couch, and when they got up, they left three sets of greasy stains on the back cushions.”

 “Yes, that’s the one. They were the owners of this hair spray company who obviously used their own product entirely too much. That scene and others were hilarious. I laughed ‘til I cried. I’m glad you didn’t take offense. I know our cultures’ humor doesn’t always run along parallel lines.”

 “Why should I take offense? That movie was funny as hell. Besides, most of us don’t use that gunk in our hair anymore. I use a non-greasy conditioner that helps my perm stay fresh longer.” She twirled her fingers in the bouncy mass. “I will have to have it done again soon, since this one is almost gone.”

 I sniffed at her hair. She must have had it done ages ago, as it didn’t smell even faintly of chemicals. “Your hair is beautiful. Why perm it at all?”

 “I can’t do a thing with it if I don’t. I am definitely into wash-and-wear-hair.” She finished chewing and looked at me over another hunk of bread. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

 “Go ahead.” Beneath the table, our knees brushed and I hid a smile at her low gasp. A human wouldn’t have noticed the increase in her pulse rate or sniffed the heady smell of arousal wafting off her luscious skin.

 “I’m getting the impression I’m the first black woman you’ve been with. If so, I’d like to know why. Why, now? Why, me?”

 I leaned back against my chair and met her curious eyes. I had asked myself that same question numerous times this evening, finally concluding that this--her and me--just felt right.

 “Yes, you are the first black I’ve been with, but not from lack of trying. The beauty of black women has always drawn me. Unfortunately, the reverse doesn’t seem to be true. If you think prejudice only flows one way, you are way out in left field. I’ve suffered more rebuffs than you could toss a stick at, only because I was”--I raised both hands and made quotation marks in the air, “--white. You ask why now and why you? I didn’t see disgust in your eyes when you looked at me, and I definitely liked what I saw.” I let my gaze rove over her full, lush form, let her see the growing attraction in my admiring gaze. “Your color, your race is not a turn-off to me. So why shouldn’t I want to spend time with you, get to know you? Fuck you?”

 Her eyebrows twitched together in a quick, considering frown. “You make it sound like you plan on seeing me after tonight. Socially.”

 She’d caught that easily enough, faster than I had, actually.

 “Again, if we both want the same thing, why not?” Hearing the words leave my mouth had my own eyebrows rising. What the fuck was I thinking?

 She cocked her head, observing my face closely. “This is not a date. This is a prelude to a fuck. There will be no ‘we’ beyond this evening. Sex--uncomplicated and simple--is all you want from me, and I don’t like you wrapping it up in romantic drivel.”

 I smiled and sat up straighter in my chair. “You think I’m romantic?”

 She heaved an exaggerated sigh and moved her gaze from me, ignoring my question to ask another of her own.

 “Why pay me for having dinner with you?”

 I shrugged. “You are a working woman and I am taking up your time.”

 “Yes, but you are buying my dinner. That is payment of a sort.”

 “And I’m enjoying watching you eat it, which is re payment of a sort. Believe me when I say we men don’t get enough of seeing a woman take pleasure in her food. I consider it money well spent.”

 “Okay. Thanks.” She chewed a little slower, swallowed while she continued to stare at me. I watched a half smile widen her beautiful lips, light up her face from the inside.

 “Hey, you know, there aren’t many guys who take time to get to know a girl before just getting down to business. I think that’s very nice of you. In fact, I suspect you’re a nice guy.”

 “I try to be. Actually, I am, as much as possible, scrupulously honest. That is why I want you to know exactly what my intentions are. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us. You already know I intend to fuck you later tonight, right?” I asked her quietly, leaning across the table to take her hand.

 She nodded. “That’s pretty obvious. It’s what we’re here to discuss. Besides, it would be hard to play solitary pocket pool with that two-pocket monster.”

 “Yes,” I agreed, “private pocket pool is not very entertaining.”

 She grinned and I returned her smile with one of my own, momentary amusement soothing the beast within. “I have…special needs, certain requirements that demand more than your typical fuck,” I warned her.

 “Oh, I see.” Her face fell. “I should have known you were too good to be true.” She sighed. “I just thought…”

 “What?”

 “Never mind,” she said, that look of disappointment not abating. A cold, calculating look chilled the liveliness of her face.

 “I do mind! You were a warm, friendly woman and all of a sudden, you changed into a cold, businesslike robot. Tell me what I said to upset you.”

 “For a moment, I forgot you were a john, but reality just came crashing down with a vengeance when you mentioned special needs and certain requirements.”

 She sat up straight, placed her hands flat on the table and glared into my eyes. “Just because I’m black and for sale doesn’t mean I’ll put up with anything and everything. I won’t participate in extreme kink and my standard fee does not include my chocolate whiz-way. In fact, it is not even on the menu because nobody takes my ass. While we’re at it,” she continued in a stiff voice, eyes narrowing, “I won’t stand still for any painful play like corporal punishment--no beatings, no weird devices and no BDSM. Last but not least, blow-jobs are extra.”

 “No blow-job from you, tonight.” Just the thought that I might accidentally lose control and knot in her throat, be unable to pull out and possibly choke her to death made my blood run cold. I shivered, the notion chilling my soul. “It might be too dangerous.”

 That jolted her into repeating, “I am not into BDSM.”

 “I got you. No BDSM, no beatings, devices, blow-jobs or chocolate ass-reaming… tonight,”I reassured her solemnly, aware she didn’t catch the emphasis I put on the last word.

 “I can’t deny that full, bouncy ass of yours looks like my favorite playground; however, that can wait for another time. I’m willing to concede quite a lot to be with you.” I gripped her hand tightly, stared into her golden eyes. “You don’t have any idea how beautiful I find you, how much you excite me.”

 “No, I don’t. So why don’t you tell me.” A teasing smile tugging at her bodacious lips.

 Damn, those lips were full and cushiony. If I’d been Helen of Troy’s husband and her lips had looked like these, the Trojan War never would have happened. My cock would have been buried balls deep in her mouth every day, all day. She’d have had no time to find Paris and trouble.

 “First of all, I have enjoyed the liveliness of your mind. It’s been a long time since I’ve held an hour’s conversation with a woman and not been bored senseless.”

 “Well, thank you…I think!” Her acerbic tone warned me I’d said something wrong, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what.

 “What? What did I say?”

 A rueful smile tilted her full lips. She didn’t say it, but I could almost hear her thinking: Men!

 “Never mind, just go on with what you were saying.”

 “You are a painter’s dream. I could spend an eternity exploring the rich textures of your skin, the different tints and shades of cocoa that flow from the top of your curly hair to the lush curves of your full breasts. You are a work of art, all the way to the bottom of your dark, smooth legs.

 “But I am not a painter. I am more like a sculptor. I want to put my hands on you, mold and shape you into passion’s likeness, re-form you into an image of--” I stopped. “No, that’s not right, either. I need to be a chef--one who isn’t content to serve a dish without sampling it, making sure it is perfect. Before serving you up on my private bill of fare, I would have to taste you, suck your long, puffy nipples until they were raw. I’d nibble at your plump thighs and consume your chocolate pussy and then I’d lick every drop of hot, syrupy cream out of your gooey, juicy center.”

 “Ooohh, dayam, man!” She whimpered, fanning her hand in front of her face with fluttery, agitated motions. Her throat moved as she swallowed. “You sure make that sound good!”

 My thumb brushed over and over her soft hand. Her fingers curled into mine, warm and clinging, heating my blood. “You like the sound of that?”

 She nodded vigorously. “Oh, hell, yeah!”

 “Good, because there’s more,” I whispered, enticing her with my words, deliberately leaning into her personal space. My cock grew stiffer as her scent intensified, betraying her escalating arousal.

 “I don’t know if I can handle any more!” She gulped, yanking her hand from mine to sink back on her bench. Wetting her lips with a nervous swipe of her tongue, she hastily took a swallow of her drink. A nervous little laugh escaped her. “You are getting me so hot and bothered.”

 “And wet, too, I bet. Still, you’re not wet enough, not yet hot enough, baby.” Recapturing her hand, I curled my fingers about her wrist and pressed a kiss in her palm, running my thumb across the soft skin of her knuckles.

 Her hand trembled in my grasp.

 “Before I fuck you, I’ll do everything I just mentioned and more. I will bind you with silk and cotton ties, careful not to bruise your beautiful skin.”

 My lips moved against the soft skin of her forearm as my fingers tightened, mimicking the ropes I would use to bind her. “I’ll bind you stretched out, on your belly, open and vulnerable to my every touch, bound so you cannot refuse the ecstasy I will stroke into your flesh. I will fuck you so hard, you’ll feel me in your throat, fuck you until I bring you to the ultimate in pleasure. Before I finish, you will scream for me as you convulse in endless orgasms.”

 Her breathing hitched, becoming audible in the small space of our secluded cubicle. Her eyes meshed with mine, studying my face intently. Her tongue swiped across her thick lips, leaving them glossy and wet.

 She nodded at me, a shaky smile quivering on her fine mouth. “Oh, God, yes, I want that. I want you to do all that and more to me!” A nervous laugh caused her big breasts to jiggle. “Hell, if you can deliver even half of what you’ve just described, I might end up paying you!”

  

 I Contemplate Dessert

  

 The little Italian place was bustling with their usual early evening crowd. Being among the last customers admitted, the restaurant’s standard policy of first-come-first-served worked against us. Our order lingered way down at the bottom of the chef’s list and by the time our server delivered apologies and a second helping of complimentary appetizers, we had solved California’s energy problems and started in on World Peace.

 All through the lengthy wait and our energetic discussions, I put a lot of effort into keeping her arousal high. At one point, I slipped my sandal off and played with her ankles. My naked toes slid up her stockinged leg, around to the back of her knee, flirting and enticing. I slipped the other sandal off and placed both feet between her legs, nudging them further and further apart.

 Finally sliding one foot up the slope of her inner thigh, I heard her breath catch. She’d figured out my true target. I hadn’t known what to expect but was glad to find her vagina was bare. My big toe, slipping and sliding through her juices, came to rest between her swollen lips and I rooted for her opening, my toes wiggling over her fat little clit.

 She let out a huffing gasp and I smiled a little, quirking my eyebrow at the way her voice abruptly cut off in the midst of a sentence. Taking deep, shaky breaths, eyes cast down at the table, she eased her thighs further apart, silently inviting me to get my toe wedged in the doorway of her dripping cunt.

 I felt her pussy muscles clamping around my toe and I rotated my foot, flexing the toe inside her. I curled my other toes into the crease leading to her ass, wriggling those, too, with optimum results.

 When I pushed my toe all the way in, she almost ignited right there in her seat.

 “Do you like that?”

 My words emerged as a harsh whisper, my own breath raspy as I watched her fight not to convulse. I kept my toe pumping slowly in and out of her clasping pussy, my other foot toeing her clit. My chest expanded, lungs burning as I breathed in the heavy musk of her lust. I savored the primal scent that betrayed her climbing passion.

 She wet her lips, humming as she tried to answer, struggling to control the urge to scream. The helpless look in her eyes told me she didn’t have enough control to keep back her moans and hold a conversation at the same time. She settled for giving me a wobbly affirmative nod.

 I continued the secret, rhythmic fucking, grinning wickedly as a thought came to me. “Gives toe-jam a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” I chuckled quietly as my hard thrusts pinned her against the back of the booth.

 Her head snapped back, eyes squeezed shut as I forced an intense completion upon her. Hips jerking forward, she clasped the table, keening low and harshly as an orgasm slammed through her. She slumped down in the booth, bringing her lower body closer to my pistoning leg, causing my knee to hit the underside of the table with an audible whack. It hurt like hell, but I had cause to be thankful for it. The pain helped me to focus, to rein in my beast.

 I sat up and tried to ease out of her streaming pussy. She fought me, frantically pumping her hips down onto my gyrating foot. Trapping my toe inside her steaming channel, she rode her climax out and started on another.

 “Not yet,” she rasped, eyes pleading, her features stark, face stripped bare of all pretenses. Her hot little box clamped down on my toe like a vise.

 “You’re very hungry, aren’t you, baby?” Giving her an encouraging smile, I wrestled my toe out of her snug hole. It cleared her clinging lips with an audible pop.

 I’m a big man--raw-boned, my dad says, like all the males in my family. My big toe is thick, a good four and a half inches long and I’d had every inch of it crammed in her tight hole.

 I discovered that black women blush; at least, this one did. I saw and smelled the hot color wash over her chagrined features just before she gave in to her still seething desires. “Oh, please, I need to be filled. Put your toe back in me!”

 “No. Remember, we are in a public place. You need to calm down.”

 Tearing off a small hunk of bread, I dipped it in the seasoned olive oil and offered it to her. She shook her head, lips tight. She was angry with me and her fierce frown let me know it in no uncertain terms. Inwardly amused by her courageous streak, I persisted, rubbing the oiled bread over her lips when she didn’t open them fast enough to suit me.

 “Please!”

 Her word cut off abruptly when I pushed the chunk of bread into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed truculently, eyes begging me, conveying her frantic need to come.

 “Eat,” I suggested calmly. “You need to focus your attention on something less exciting than having my long, thick toe flexing in your juicy little pussy.”

 My nostrils quivered, catching the fragrant scent of the heated fluid spilling from her pussy. My hunger flared and I frowned, agitated and displeased over not being able to feast on that slick, sweet moisture. I took my displeasure out on her. “Don’t waste my cream!”

 “Wh-what?”

 “You’ve creamed onto your seat,” I growled, uncaring that I’d been the cause of that syrupy gushing.

 “I can’t help it. This is your fault. You’ve gotten me so hot!”

 Every sense I possessed focused on the woman seated across from me. All else, the diners, the staff… everythingfaded into the background to become just so much white noise. My job required that I always stay alert and conscious of any suspicious movement, but tonight, any one of those diners could have snuck up on me, captured or killed me unawares.

 “Tonight belongs to us. I want to claim every piece and particle of your body. I want every drop, every ounce of passion you produce. Like nectar for my thirsty soul, I will drink from your sweet pussy as reverently as Galahad drank from the Holy Grail. In return, you shall have pleasures such as you have never known. Your body’s honey is the elixir of life and belongs in the living receptacle of my mouth. Don’t waste it on a lifeless chair.”

 She moaned, squirming at my words, releasing yet more of her fragrant fluid. “Damn, you are so freaking romantic.”

 “I’m not anything of the sort, and you’re--” I broke off, shuddering, as the call of the moon swept over my flesh. Outside, true dark had fallen and the ascending moon summoned my beast. A rash of goose bumps shivered over my shoulders and down my arms, followed by an involuntary lengthening of nails and teeth, curbed only by the most intense effort. It was time to howl and my beast no longer heeled at my command. I knew I didn’t have much time to play. “I think I’d better cool you off.”

 The two walls of our half booth offered a modicum of privacy. Examining the dimensions of our cloth-draped table, I found it adequate for my plans. My voice rumbling from my throat in a deep growl, I ordered, “Get your dress up about your hips, out of my way.”

 Our conversations had revealed she was an independent thinker, but she didn’t question me on this. In a couple of discreet movements, she shimmied until that tight red flag of seduction rode above her thighs, the tablecloth hiding her machinations and her state of undress from the rest of the room’s occupants.

 My cock thrummed and balls tingled as I watched her ready herself for me. The wulf in me was so close to the surface I feared losing control, something I hadn’t done since my long-ago puppyhood.

 “I want you to know what I am going to do to you.” I held my teaspoon up, waved it before her face. “Do you see this?”

 She bobbed her head in a shaky nod, pouty lips parted as she audibly released her pent-up breath.

 “I’ll drop this on the floor. When I get down and pretend to retrieve it, I want you to nibble on the rest of your bread, maybe take a few sips of your soda. At no time should you allow your mouth to be empty. Do you understand?”

 “No.” She gulped. “Why?”

 I took pity on her, realizing she had been aroused beyond simple deductive reasoning. So had I.

 “If I said, ‘Because I command it!’ that would be reason enough.” I forgot myself so far as to give her orders. Shaking my head, I remembered she did not consider herself my bitch, didn’t consider I had the right to command her obedience. My aberrant behavior gave me grave cause for concern, but I could not draw back. I had to taste her or go insane.

 “I’m going to make you come hard enough to scream. Food in your mouth might help keep your cries to a minimum.” I shrugged. “It is your choice.” I tossed a dismissive glance at the couples sharing the room with us. I grinned, carefully hiding my elongated canines. “If you wish these others to know what I am doing to you…”

 Snatching up a small piece of bread, she stuffed it in her mouth and commenced chewing frantically, making me chuckle with delight at her panicked response.

 Smiling widely, I sat the spoon near the corner of the table, inching it in deliberate increments toward the edge with the tip of one finger. Her eyes, helplessly enthralled, followed the utensil’s measured, haphazard path across the pristine cloth, watched as it tumbled in slow motion, over the edge and out of sight. When it thudded onto the floor, her eyes snapped back to mine. Her throat convulsed as she tried to swallow around her mouth full of dry bread.

 “Sip,” I suggested gruffly, folding her shaking fingers about her glass. The ice rattled against the sides as she gripped it in unsteady hands.

 “Why, look,” I drawled for the benefit of the other diners and staff, pushing my chair back as I spoke. “I seem to have dropped my spoon.” With my foot, I nudged the spoon further under the table until the trailing cloth totally concealed it. Dipping my head because my grin had grown too wide to hide my fangs, I promised, “Be right back.” I winked at her.

 Making a drawn-out production of sliding from my chair and easing under our table, I left her gasping for air and wriggling in her seat.

 The small dark space, bordered and enclosed by the floor-length tablecloth, trapped the fragrant scent of my woman’s arousal within. Grinning, mouth drooling, I saw she had obeyed me, baring her thighs and mons in readiness of my use. My stomach growled, hunger roaring through me as I surveyed the feast spread before me. Howling with lust and attacking her feminine meat in urgent satisfaction of my desires would not go over well, I imagined.

 My nostrils quivered as I breathed in deeply, allowing her musk to swamp my senses. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of her sex made my head light.

 Oh, yeah!I licked my lips. There were no cold leftovers here. I found myself confronting a ripe, hot pussy, spilling spicy juices, waiting for me to dive into it, nothing preventing me from eating my fill.

 Swirling a finger in the spilled cream on her wooden seat, I painted her legs, daubing invisible patterns on her knees, thighs and labia. Bending my head, I lapped the soft bend of her knee. Moving up to lick between her thighs, swirling my tongue over her puffy outer lips, I meticulously removed my cooling handiwork with firm, broad strokes. I concentrated my attention on the plump, dark skin of her inner thighs, swiping at the slick moisture sheening her quivering skin. They jiggled just enough to make my balls ache.

 “Mmmhhmmmm…”Moaning in ecstasy, I released my tight control over my beast, allowing him a moment of freedom.

 Licking her tasty skin, I made my way up toward her hot, chocolaty gooey center, unable to resist interspersing a few stinging nips along the way. My sharp hearing picked up her low-voiced, incoherent moans and the high, sharp retort of the drinking glass clinking against her teeth.

 Hold on, baby girl, this ride’s about to get bumpy!

 Tired of teasing, wanting to get at the main entree, I hunkered down before her. Placing my hands between her legs, I yanked her knees wide apart, forcing her dress up higher, exposing her cunt fully to my greedy gaze.

 Freezing in arrested awe, I stared down upon sheer perfection. She had the prettiest, plumpest vagina I had ever seen. Its moist, dark folds were a mouth-watering, shocking pink nestled in a bed of rich cocoa-tinted flesh.

 Leaning closer, I buried my nose in her folds and inhaled, actually feeling my heart flutter as I drank in her luscious bouquet. Beneath her rich scent, I caught an unrecognizable smell and puzzled over it a moment, trying to place the elusive odor. It bothered me that I could not call to mind what that faint smell meant. I sniffed again. Just that suddenly, worry over the unrecognizable scent fled. My thoughts whirled, all a jumble, muscles locked in shock as another strong aroma flooded my astounded senses. This smell I knew, knew as well or better than I knew my own mark!

 Breed!

 No wonder I found it hard to control myself around her. Moon and stars above, but I’d stumbled across a Breed female, unclaimed and, if I recognized the signs, unaware. A Breed made exactly to my lustful specifications: A dark-skinned, generously full-bodied female that was mine for the taking…if I wanted her. Oh, hell, yes, I wanted her!

 Immediately, everything changed. My intentions became honorable.

  

 I Sneak a Slice of Chocolate Cream Pie

  

 In a perfect world, at a different time in the moon’s cycle, I would have wooed her with all the romance I sensed she wanted and needed. Unfortunately--or, depending how one looked at it, fortunately--I’d found her now, while I teetered on the brink of change. I didn’t have the luxury of courting my mate-to-be.

 Though I’d yet to learn her name, a visceral connection twined and unfurled between us, growing stronger as I lingered in her presence, drinking in her intoxicating scent. Unless I moved now, the growing connection would not be enough to protect her or me from the mate-hungry werewulves of San Francisco.

 Being heir to the Pack Prime of the Western American Pack, I was second only to my father and the other ruling alphas. If this weren’t a matter of mating, my word would be enough to command obedience. However, as it stood, even my position as Ascendant Prime would not stop the mating frenzy that would ensue when my fellow wulves caught the musk of an unmated Breed female.

 Unease snaked within. I recalled that lone werewulf, pacing the streets, howling his loneliness to the moon. He’d been close enough, and might have been hunting the same scent that had lured my own feet to the corner of Divisidero and Webster. If he or another wulf found her before I could mate her, all hell would break loose.

 I had been attracted to her when I thought her only human. Now that I knew her to be a Breed, she was fast becoming irresistible to me. I had waited a long time for a female of her caliber to come along. Damned if I would give her up without a fight.

 A whimper bled from my mouth as I stared at her tasty clit. The fat little button rose demandingly from beneath its hooded cover, exposed and vulnerable, just begging me to bite it. Giving in to temptation, I did so, with a voracious hunger that threatened to consume us both here in this public place.

 Like a puppy at his mam’s teat, I latched onto the stiff bit of flesh, worrying it, holding it firmly between my teeth. I shook my head gently from side to side. It was easy to sense her agonized struggle to maintain outward appearances as she clamped her knees like a vise over my ears. I wouldn’t allow her to contain my actions.

 Still nibbling on her clit, I brought my right hand up and opened her more fully, spreading her vaginal lips wide between my splayed fingers. When I had her opened up to my satisfaction, I began administering long, hard swipes over the entire surface with my flattened tongue. I pushed so hard against her sex, her back thudded against the back of the bench. She grasped the edge of the table, fighting to stay upright.

 I used my teeth on her, biting and nipping hard enough to startle, yet not breaking the skin. I knew the small discomforts, mixed with the escalating pleasure, would drive her up and over in a short time.

 Moving back up to her clit, I again engulfed it, sucking it hard into my mouth, drawing on it to a point just shy of pain, feeling it swell and throb in response.

 Her thighs trembled hard enough to rattle my brains, signaling her rapid approach to critical mass. Reluctantly, I released my new plaything and tilted my head sideways. Opening my mouth wide, I captured both her swollen pussy lips between my jaws. Biting down on her, I pressed my chin against her covered clit, working my jaws firmly but carefully.

 She exploded in lonely splendor above me.

 Her drinking glass hit the table with a dull thud. Her knees jerked up, bumping against the bottom of the table. She panted and moaned, managing to stop shy of a scream by plugging her mouth with bread. It is possible that I am the only one who heard and witnessed her climax, but at that point, neither of us gave a fuck.

 I waited for her to regain control and once her shudders ceased, released the grip of my mouth on her pussy, using both hands to pry her open. Burying my mouth over her opening, I suckled her, determined to get at every drop of cream I’d trapped behind her sealed opening. Growling, whining under my breath, I lapped her juices up with hungry slurps, forgetting myself so far as to allow a rumbling snarl of possession to escape my mouth. My beast rode me hard, demanding I claim this woman, this pussy, as my own.

 Mine to lick.

 Mine to fuck.

 Never again, would anyone touch this dark, sweet confection and live. Call me a selfish dog, but my kind doesn’t share.

 A long while later, with a last, soothing lick to her chapped clit, I reluctantly bid farewell to her pussy.

 Poor little darling, I commiserated. Both her clit and her pussy glowed red-hot with the heat of raw, chafed flesh. I had not been gentle with her little jewel box at all.

 I floated, light-headed from the euphoria of having tasted her sweetness, having made her come. I didn’t feel much guilt, since I hadn’t really injured her, just used her well and thoroughly. Though she did not know it yet, she and her delectable pussy would soon belong exclusively to me. As her mate, I intended to fuck her frequently and hard. In fact, her pussy would be a lot redder and rawer in an hour or so, as I fully planned to claim her tonight, fill her tight pussy with my cock and ride her into oblivion. My instincts demanded I tie her to me in any way I could. My present level of horniness pretty much ensured she’d be bow-legged by morning.

 Smoothing my hair and clothes before emerging from under the table, I rose with spoon in hand. Only after I finished seating myself did I look over at her. She wore a blank, vacant look reminiscent of victims suffering from shellshock. Her lips trembled and her breasts were still heaving, her nipples little hillocks butting against the thin material of her dress. Slowly, languidly, her mouth turned up and she smiled in repletion. Never had I seen such a beautiful sight. Her scent bathed my senses, rose about her like a cloud of incense and cloaked her in a robe of shimmering desire.

 I grinned back at her, impudently licking my lips. “I forgot to mention this restaurant is best known for its spectacular appetizers.”

  

 I Ask For Her Name and Her Hand

  

 “So, what is your name? It seems strange to know your pussy so intimately, yet not know what name your mam whispered over your wet head.”

 I had reinserted my toe into her pussy as soon as I sat back down. Not moving it, simply letting it lie quiescently just within the opening of her lips, using it as a plug to stop any more of my cream from spilling out. I questioned her, interested in learning as much as possible about her.

 Our server came and went, leaving our main dish and clearing away the residue of our bread sticks and seasoned oil. We both played with our pasta, appetites gone way beyond food.

 She didn’t say anything for a while. Frowning at my question, she stopped swirling her fork through her pasta to look up at me from under a fan of thick, long eyelashes. “Whatever you want to call me, I guess.” She pressed down on me, pussy rippling hard about my toe, revealing the state of her renewed arousal.

 Irritation flashed through me at her evasive answer. “I want to call you by your name. Your real one. And don’t lie to me,” I warned her. “I will know if you do. I can smell a lie.”

 She shifted nervously on her seat. Paused to deal with the ripples of delight her movement caused. Her heart rate picked up as she undulated on my long toe, riding me, trying to get me to push farther up. I refused, staying right where I was. I wanted to push her to the edge, withhold her climax until she succumbed to my will.

 “I don’t give out my real name to my johns.” The sultry droop to her eyelids was a dead giveaway of her mood. She wanted fucking, and I wasn’t giving. She couldn’t hide her frustration.

 I raised my eyebrows at her tone. “I won’t be just another one of your johns. I’ve decided I want a more involved relationship than that.”

 “A relationship is not part of our agreement. I can’t have a more involved relationship with you, white boy,” she said, mocking my choice of words. “Why would I want to?”

 Now, I’m a great server of sarcasm and can dish it out with the best of them. However, I do not care to have it served up to me. Her attitude pissed me off, raised my hackles, even as my admiration for her courage grew. She didn’t fear me, though by rights, she had reason to.

 Gripping her hand, I tugged her upper body toward me, pulling her off center. Feeding her an inch more of my toe, I wiggled it hard inside her, countering snidely, “Maybe because your pussy is still singing the Ode to Joy?”

 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?”

 “Myname 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 will 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?”

 “Didn’t you say you only lived a few blocks from here?”

 At my nod, she shrugged her shoulders.

 “That’s okay, then. My ankles can hold up that long.”

 She glanced up at me out of the corner of one sherry-brown eye as she clung to my arm, steadying her precarious balance as she pranced beside me. “But if I wake up dead in the morning, I’m gonna be seriously pissed at my misjudgment!”

 Her gallows humor startled a bark of amusement out of me. After a moment, she joined in, her infectious laughter ringing on the night air. If I hadn’t already begun falling in love with her, that carefree, infectious sound would have done it for me. Contagious and gay, she exhibited the childlike exuberance of true innocence.

 In lust and more than half in love, my feet never touched the ground as we hurried through the quiet evening. We made record time since I took the straight route home, without all my earlier meandering detours. Other than the fact she kept refusing to take my proposal seriously, all went well until we reached my apartment.

 I had just put the key in the door when the memory of my apartment’s messy condition slapped me in the face. Serious thoughts of flaying my slob of a cousin crossed my mind. “Crap!”

 “What’s wrong, Hunter?”

 “Nothing. Much. Will you do me a favor, baby? Wait right here for a minute.”

 Slipping my arms out of my jacket, I draped it over her shapely shoulders. Initiating a deep kiss, driving my tongue through her parted lips, I squeezed her abundant flesh against the hard lines of my aroused body. Her arms came up, clinging to my shoulders and I reluctantly let go. Backing away before I lost what little control I had and fucked her there on the stoop, I slowly lowered her arms and disengaged from her clinging lips. Giving her a last, lingering, promise of a kiss I whispered, “Be right back.”

 I ducked through the door, leaving her hugging my jacket and gasping for the breath I’d snatched with that lurid mouth-to-mouth communication.

 Quick as a flash, I whipped through the living room, snatching up every piece of stray clothing, and tossed them into Fortrayn’s room. For good measure, I folded a suspiciously stained sheet into an impromptu sack, bundled all the dirty dishes into it and threw it in after the soiled laundry.

 “You hiding the body in there?” I heard her stamping her feet and envisioned her chafing her arms.

 Shit! Was I?

 My head jerked up and I glanced frantically around before realizing she had been kidding. Shaking my head at my jumpiness, I slumped in relief.

 “Not tonight!” I hollered back. I sped up. I didn’t want her becoming too chilled or nervous, or leaving. Quickly plumping the couch pillows, I straightened the coffee table and stashed the Playboys under the cushions of the loveseat. Breathing in and out a few times, I reordered my ‘cool’ and headed for the door. Cleanup had taken just under five minutes.

 “Place is just a bit messy and I didn’t want you to think me a slob. That title belongs to the young cousin living with me!”

 Flinging opening the door, I found her facing the street, body poised to make a quick getaway.

 I shot her an aggrieved look. “Were you planning on just disappearing into the night without a good-bye, see-you-later, kiss my ass, taking my leather biker jacket with you? If you did that, I’d have had to hunt you down, woman.”

 She wouldn’t have gotten far. She could never hope to escape my detection. With the scent of her pussy seared into my brain, I could pick her out of a crowd, blindfolded, from six blocks away.

 She gazed up at me, her expressive face revealing her struggle with guilt and trepidation. Bending to brush my lips over hers, I reiterated my promise that I would never intentionally hurt her. I would always place her safety and well-being above mine.

 As always, she relaxed into the kiss and I slid my hands around her thick waist, gently turning her back toward the open door. What I had in mind to do to her didn’t belong on the front door step.

 As soon as the door shut behind us, I climbed all over her, devouring her full lips. Damn, but they felt and tasted wonderful, lush and sweet! Crowding her up against the wall, I pushed my jacket from her shoulders. Digging my fingers into her full ass cheeks and nudged my cock into her soft belly, I ground against her heat in a frenzy of lust.

 She unraveled in my arms, fingers sinking into the thick hair at my nape, clinging to me as I ravaged her mouth. Turning the table on me, she managed to get in some ravaging of her own, delighting me to no end. I wanted her involved, caught up, as lost in this whirlwind as I was.

 Eons later, we broke apart, gulping for air. Switching angles, I came at her again, nipping and biting her lower lip, alternately swiping my tongue across the glossy surfaces to soothe the stinging sensations.

 My demanding lips kept her attention occupied while my hands got busy on that hot, little red dress. The stupid thing sported a cleverly hidden zipper that almost got it ripped off her, being I was in no mood to play ‘hunt the opening.’ On the other hand, if Getting Your Woman out Of Her Dress had been an Olympic event, I’d have set a new world record taking first place.

 Once I had her peeled out of that clinging octopus of a dress, I stepped back to get the full-length picture and almost swallowed my tongue. My arms dropped to my sides and my knees grew weak, almost buckling. My eyes about curled up in my head. I felt a heavy pounding jar my bones and thought my heart thudded out of control. It turned out to be Buford, beating on the door of my pants, screaming to get out.

 “Damn it to hell, woman,” I howled, childishly taking my shock out on her, “you ought to be fucking illegal.” I thought about Kevin’s daughter, who’d be all grown up now. Hell, I’d strangle any male for thinking about doing to her what I wanted to do with and in this woman.

 She looked like dark chocolate nestled in a froth of peach fuzz. The sight made my mouth water and my balls draw up. She hugged her breasts, arms crossed in the classic pose of shy womanhood, as if she had cause to be ashamed. Her merry widow clung to her body in a sinful display of peach-colored lace. The sexy item barely covered her chocolate crème de menthe skin, stopping well above the musky delta of her sex. True peach, with no touch of cantaloupe, the thing was a cock-stretching wonder, contrasting marvelously with the soft shade of her creamy black skin.

 Mouth dry, cock wet with leaking pre-cum, I stood there, done in by her beauty, entranced by her ample charms, nailed to the floor in speechless awe. I swayed before her, watching her come into the knowledge of her power. Straightening her stance, she raised her head proudly and gazed boldly into my eyes. Seeing my wordless approval, she drew her shoulders back, dropped her arms and thrust out her bountiful breasts. Her fat, dark chocolate nubbins--daringly erect and distended--poked through the erotic nipple eyelets cut out of the lace bodice.

 One day, I mused, I would adorn those Olympic classed nipples with a set of chained nipple clamps, claiming them as I intended to claim every inch of her body. Visually devouring those stiff Hershey’s kisses, lost to reality, I vaguely heard her begin to speak. I snapped to attention as her words penetrated the fog of my inattention.

 “Hunter, my name is Melody Spenser and I would very much like you to fuck me, now.”

 She stood there, fear and arousal clouding the air about her, shattering my heart with her trust. Moved tremendously, I knew I had to be in her or die from the crippling need. But, first things first.

 Unbuttoning my jeans, I spread my fly and grabbed hold of my rearing shaft. Running my fist over the fat head, I gathered the slick pre-cum clinging to the small eye. Closing my palm around my cock, I pumped it with smooth, fast motions, eyes on her dark, puffy mound. She had the fullest bush of crinkly curls I had ever seen. It was matted and wet with the evidence of her arousal, and with such visual assistance it only took a few firm strokes to make me spew. Aiming my spurting cock, I targeted those impudent, beckoning nipples and her bush-covered mons, spraying both with a copious flood of hot, thick sperm. Balls still spasming, cock jumping, I introduced myself in return.

 “Hello, Melody Spenser-- soon to be Melody McCallum!--my name is Hunter McCallum and it will be my honor to fuck you.”

  

 Having Marked My Property, I Stake out My Claim

  

 My Melody looked down at her cum-covered breasts and then pointedly over at my still hard, rampant cock. “Why the fuck did you do that? Would you like to explain what this is all about?” Using the tips of her nails, she lifted the soaked cloth away from her chest. Gingerly, she touched fingertips to the semen dripping off her nipples. She glared at me, her expression telling me she didn’t care for my actions. She looked as if she couldn’t believe I had just come all over her.

 “Marking my territory,” I answered gruffly, toeing off my sandals so I could kick out of my pants. My shirt hit the floor shortly after.

 Her eyes narrowed and her facial muscles tightened. “Not only have you ruined my corset, you’ve managed to piss me off. Where do you get off trying to stake a claim on me? I told you before I belong to no one. Slavery ended a long time ago, and if it hadn’t, I still wouldn’t tolerate being treated as anyone’s property.”

 “I didn’t say property, I said territory. As in, I won’t share you with anyone else, and any male getting within a yard of you is gonna know it. Since you brought up the subject, I have never kept a slave and never held with that ‘white-man-is-superior’ bullshit that some like to bandy around. That being the case, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from ever bringing race up between us ‘cause I’ll tell you this once and for always, your race makes you special in my eyes. No, we are not the same. There are things you have yet to learn about me that will prove my point. No matter what the world or anyone else thinks about our relationship, I’m never gonna give you up. So don’t think the color card will deter me. It won’t. Got that?”

 She raised one elegant eyebrow. “That soap box feel pretty sturdy? You plan on staying up there the whole night?”

 I could feel the heat flood my cheeks. “Uhm, was I preaching?”

 She nodded. “A bit, yeah.”

 I took a deep breath and calmed myself. “Sorry about that. If you’re worried about the corset, don’t. I’ll buy you a hundred more to replace it.”

 “Thanks, but one will do.” She grimaced, reaching for one of the shoulder straps to remove the soiled garment.

 “Leave it!” I barked, caught myself and softened my voice before continuing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you, but, please…leave it on for now. I want to be the one to take it off you.”

 Melody relaxed and let her arms drop to her side. “You’re paying, Hunter, and speaking of wants, I sincerely hope you didn’t waste all your cum in this barbaric display.” She gestured to the semen thickly coating her breasts, mons and thighs.

 “No. There’s plenty more where that came from,” I arrogantly assured her.

 “Then why is it still over there, while I’m over here?” she asked, an adorable pout highlighting her full lips.

 “I guess, because I’m still waiting.”

 A frown creased her eyebrows. “You’re waiting for what?”

 “The correct answer to my marriage proposal.”

 She stiffened. “Enough with the games, Hunter. We both know you don’t have to marry me to fuck me. Hell, I wouldn’t even charge you if I didn’t need the money so badly.”

 I want you.

 I said nothing.

 “You want an answer? Fine. The answer is no!”

 I want marriage with you.

 I just stood there with my dick sticking out.

 I want us.

 My silence and my cock proved more eloquent than words would have been.

 With an exasperated sigh, she flung away, flipping her hands in the air. Lips pressed tight together, she glared at me, frustration at my continued silence visible on her mulish face.

 “Look around at this place, Hunter. I’ve never lived anywhere half as nice and upscale as this duplex. I’m not good enough for you,” she said finally, shaking her head. “How would you introduce me to your family? ‘Hey, Mom, Dad, want you to meet the whore I picked up down on Divisidero and Webster the other night.’ You deserve better.”

 “Tsk, tsk, tsk! My Melody, I believe we’ve already had this conversation. And my parents are going to love you.”

 Anger washed over her face. Anger so hot I felt the heat from across the room. “Why are you being so stubborn? You have no idea of the obstacles you would face if you tried to follow through on any marriage plans with me!”

 “Tell me the obstacles, My Mel. I will make them go away.”

 “Stop calling me that! I am not your Mel. I’m a whore. I fuck for money. Are you telling me you won’t fuck me if I say no to your proposal? Because, I’m still shy of the amount I have to turn in tonight. If you aren’t buying, I’ll have to go find someone who is.”

 My eyes narrowed in true anger. My beast roared, reared its head and glared out of my eyes. She took a step back, her dark face blanching.

 “My cock had better be the only one you take inside your body from this moment on, young lady. I will rip the entrails out of any man who thinks to put his hands on you.”

 “This can’t happen, Hunter.”

 Grabbing my cock and balls, I shook them at her. “Let me introduce you to inevitability. Make no mistake… This will happen! I am definitely going to fuck you tonight and probably every other night of our life together. Speaking of which, you need to know up front that I have an enormous sexual appetite, so I’ll be in your pussy and ass a lot.”

 She silently shook her head no, adamant in her refusal.

 I nodded mine yes, just as adamantly. “All you have to do is trust me. I will handle all the obstacles facing us. Believe me.”

 “Don’t you think I want to?” An angry frown twisted her face. “I like you, I want to fuck you, but it ends there. I don’t know enough about you to let you interfere. Too much is at stake!”

 “Oh, you know me, all right. Deep down, you know me just as I instantly knew you. You and I belong together and I won’t let anything or anyone come between us.

 “You want money? Fine, I’ll give you the money you need. I’ll give you whatever you want. Just give me the chance to deal with your problems. Give yourself enough time to know me better, eventually come to love me.”

 “Why?” she whispered, fists clenched at her side. “Tell me why you won’t let this subject drop. Why you can’t just fuck me, pay me and let us both go our separate ways?”

 Walking over, I embraced her, wrapped my arms about her. “I’m not very good with romantic words and I’ll probably never use them as often as you think I should. All I can do is tell you what meeting you has done to me, for me. When I awoke this morning, I had no idea you were in the world. I thought all I needed to make my life better was a regular fuck partner. Tonight, meeting you, my world tilted on its axis. Now I don’t want to awaken another morning without you beside me. I no longer want you as a fuck partner. I want more than that with you. I want to hold you, cuddle you close after I’ve taken you in every way imaginable, and some ways not so easily imagined. I want to share my body with you, give you my heart and soul. I want to love you.”

 “You can’t love me. No one falls in love this fast.” Her warm breath bathed my chest, voice husky from-- I hoped--the burgeoning joy my admission had brought her.

 I tightened my arms about her, leaned down and licked the delicate swirls of her earlobe. Sticking my tongue inside, I gathered another taste to add to my growing store of Melody memories. “On the contrary, the men of my family fall in love at once, or not at all.” I paused and looked into her slumberous eyes. “I bet you already love me a little, don’t you?”

 “Oh, God, I don’t know! You make me feel…I have never felt this way about anyone before.” She trembled in my arms. “This is happening too fast. It can’t be real.”

 “Tell me how I make you feel. How did you feel in the restaurant? Has any man made you come as hard as I did tonight? Don’t you think you could grow to love me?”

 “You make me feel a lust and desire I’ve never imagined. Your touch, your smell makes me tremble, makes my insides quiver.”

 She paused, took a deep breath and continued. “I thought I loved someone once, but it was gratitude, not love. When I try to sift through what I feel for you--what you make me feel--I don’t know how to describe it. It is so much stronger, sharper and more needful than anything I’ve ever felt before. It frightens me.”

 “I’m scared, too, so I’ll take that as encouragement.” Sweeping her into my arms, I grinned when she clutched me with frantic fingers, yelling in surprise at the ease with which I lifted her. I kissed her hard, mating our tongues as I intended to mate our bodies.

 Right now, unmated, but aroused, any wulf could make her horny as hell. I wanted to take her beyond that plateau to true need, a singular loyalty. When I finished, she would be bound to me, feel this intense ardor only for me.

 “Let me build on those feelings, Melody. I want to make your insides quiver again. I want to quiver inside you.”

 When she didn’t deny me, only clutched me tighter, I bent my head to hers, hefting her a little higher in my arms to rub noses. “Everything will be all right,” I whispered.

 Thank the Moon I had no worries over the cleanliness of my bedroom. Stopping before the closed door to my room, I dipped my knees, bringing her level with the doorknob. “Get the door.”

 Her shaking hand turned the knob and I walked through the open portal, feeling as if I’d walked over the threshold of commitment. Peace washed over me, calmed me. In the stillness of surrender, my emotions raged brighter. Nothing, no rebellion against losing my bachelor state, hindered the rising passion within me.

 Carrying my Melody over to the bed, I positioned her atop my dark green comforter. Looking down on her sprawled in decadent invitation, a growl rumbled in my chest. My sperm had dried to a sticky, milky substance on her breasts. I bent over and placed my palms on her, massaging her. Concentrating on her swollen mounds, I gently rubbed my ejaculate into her jutting nipples.

 Those sweet buttons grew shiny, drawing up harder and tighter as I rolled them between my thumb and forefinger, squeezing them. She moaned as I pulled them up away from her chest, releasing them and allowing them to snap back.

 When my seed had been absorbed completely, I unlaced the bodice of her merry widow, eased the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, semi-binding her with her own clothing.

 “I’ve been dying to taste these little candies since you flaunted them at me in the living room,” I informed her, resting my mouth over the first pouting nipple. My tongue flicked and lapped. Swirled and laved. I settled down and played with her breasts until she cried out, bowing up into my embrace, her spine so tight I feared it would snap. Her gasps were music to my ears and I wanted to sing with her, to howl my rising joy and lust. Instead, I contented myself with moving from hillock to hillock, latching onto a pouting blackberry nipple and drawing it between my teeth to worry it gently.

 Gods! She tasted sweet.

 Using my teeth, my tongue, and the hard suction of my cheeks, I feasted on her, my hands sweeping up and down her sides, then back up to cup the abundance that overflowed my hands. The bra size of her merry widow read 40DD. She had what I called a DH--double handful--and I loved them! Burying my face in the deep crevice between those silky mounds, I plumped them against my cheeks, turning my head from side to side, alternately tasting and nibbling at both her thimble-sized nipples.

 I tongued, nipped, and tweaked her breasts, paying close attention to her stiff little chocolate kisses until she cried out again, bucking wildly underneath me. Hungry to experience her wildness at its primal source, I slid down her body, groaning in need. My hands fisted in the skimpy undergarment, dragging it slowly off, uncovering each smooth, generous curve to my appreciative eye.

 Lifting her legs one at a time, she helped me ease the flimsy stockings from her luscious body. Capturing a shapely ankle and rubbing my hair-roughened cheek against it, I used my tongue to lick a hot path up her leg to behind her knee.

 The hot, sharp scent of her cream assailed my nose and I moaned at the spike of arousal piercing my guts, settling low in my groin.

 “Mhhmm! I’ve found a little honey spot back here.” I smiled against the sensitive skin at the bend of her knee, letting her feel my teeth.

 “H-h-h-honey spot?” She panted.

 “Yeah, babe.” I dipped my tongue into the crease of her knee and lapped at the baby-soft skin, and then slipped a hand between her thighs to gather her oozing honey.

 “This spot, here,” I tapped her knee, “produces honey here.” I caressed her stiff clit, circled it twice.

 She licked her lips, raised herself in tribute, letting her legs fall open, silently begging for my mouth.

 I placed my palms on the inside of her thighs, spreading her wider. What a sight!

 Using both thumbs to separate her swollen lips, I gazed with fondness on her fat little clit, glad to see it had recovered somewhat from my earlier onslaught.

 Recalling the many ‘how-to’ books on the subject of satisfying your sexual partner I’d read over the years, I shook my head. According to some so-called experts, there are hundreds of ways to eat pussy.

 Bullshit! There’s only one right way to eat pussy: with enthusiasm. My past lovers taught me a woman can tell if her lover enjoys going down on her. Half her stimulation and satisfaction comes from knowing her partner loves the taste of her cunt.

 I left Melody in no doubt of my fervent affection, falling on her with frantic fingers and tongue, lapping, licking, tonguing, nipping, sucking, thrusting up into that honeyed cavern…all the while letting her know how much I enjoyed her sweet-tasting pussy.

 “Gods, Mellie, I love your hot pink pussy! Yeah, baby, open up for me…spread those legs wide…wider, baby.”

 Inserting first one finger, then two, I pumped into the liquid depths of her pussy. My thumb circled her clit with teasing touches. “Oh, Mel, I am going to devour this luscious cunt all night long!”

 She gasped, started humping her hips up to me, seeking a firmer contact. I teased her, easing back whenever I felt her slipping over the precipice, keeping her on the razor’s edge of coming. I wanted her hotter than she had ever been before, needed to string out her first orgasm for as long as possible.

 The sweet counterpoint of her moans and sighs, interspersed with her broken pleas and demands spurred me to higher and ever higher efforts.

 “Uuuuhhhhhh! Oh, yeah, do me! Oh, Hunter…harder…like that, do me like that! Just…like that… Push your tongue up in my poontang and make me come…make me scream! Oh, please, Hunter! Yes, lick me! Fuck me with your mouth! Take me higher! I need…you…to… Oh, hell…I’m…oh…oohhhh! Oh, I’m…coming, I’m… yessssss!”

 Every ounce, every sweet abundant pound of her flesh joined in her dance of completion. Thighs shaking, belly quaking, her hands fisted in my hair and tugged me where she wanted me to go. Her feet, planted firmly, pushed her wide hips up from the bed, lifting her juicy pussy up to my lips.

 Drunk on her sweet essence, head reeling with the dual urges to change and mate, claim and mark, I continued to feast on her succulent cunt. Tonguing her swollen folds, I rooted between her thighs, got a firm grip on her clit and carefully bit down.

 Reticent amid our audience in the restaurant, she had been unable to participate freely and fully in her earlier orgasms. Here, in my bed, she rejoiced gloriously in her abandonment. Body jack-knifing, spine bending, she cried out my name. “Hunter…oh, Hun-ter!” Her voice broke on the syllables of my name, her small falter making me feel ten feet tall.

 Watching her come moved me more than my own completion ever had. I ached deep inside, battling tears as I witnessed the most profound event of my life. I could spend forever watching this woman peak.

 When my thoroughly modern Mellie passed out, swooning from an excess of pleasure, I tucked the event away, planning to tease her about it later. While she rested, I took the opportunity to retrieve the silken ties I had mentioned earlier. The ropes were necessary now.

 Handling her gently, I eased her over onto her belly, tying her legs first and binding them firmly to the fat wooden posters of my king-sized bed. Moving to stand between Melody’s bound ankles, I gazed at her deeply reddened pussy, exposed to my view by her outstretched legs. I looked my fill while fisting my cock, my mouth watering anew. I had just gorged myself on that succulent flesh yet here I stood, hungering for another taste.

 Her fine bottom rode high and full above her solid thighs, making me regret my impulsive promise not to initiate her into the pleasures of accepting my stiff cock, balls deep, up her ass. I ran my hands over her ass, squeezing her big cheeks, pulling them apart to stare down at the puckered brown rose nestled between her plump hills. Lightly rimming her dark, tight portal with a claw-tip, I growled low in my throat, eager to slide my cock into her forbidden channel. It would not be long before I fulfilled that particular fantasy. Content with the knowledge that I held squatter’s rights to my woman’s prime acreage, I reluctantly backed away, but not before taking the time to thoroughly lavish her tiny rear hole with a few long, sweeping flicks of my broad, rough tongue.

 With a sigh and a last lingering swipe, I left her enticing ass and went back to work securing her to the bed. Her hands were next and I allowed more play in the sash, giving her enough length to lift her torso, even hold me if she chose. Normally, I used hemp for the arms, not the softness of the silken sash. Before tonight, I had never wanted the woman’s arms about me, never cared for their comfort to such an extent.

 I double-checked my handiwork, assuring myself she could not get loose. That duty done, I went to the dresser and uncapped the thick gel lubricant, smearing a large dollop over my jutting cock. She would need that extra glide. Returning to the bed, I crawled between Melody’s legs and waited for her to wake up.

  

 I Huff and Puff and Blow her Brick House Down

  

 She came to with a frightened start, the musky smell of her fear causing my nostrils to quiver. Adrenaline rush of any kind lends a spicy flavor to the scent of prey but fear adds the most delicious spice of all. My precarious grip on control slipped another notch.

 Tugging frantically on the sashes binding her, she twisted sharply, fighting to win free. For her own safety, I had made it impossible for her to escape.

 “Take it easy, I have you,” I murmured as softly as I could, carefully stroking the buttery-smooth, cocoa-tinted skin of her back.

 She stilled. Cocking her head, she tried to swing about, searching for me. “Hunter? Is that you? Why are you disguising your voice?”

 I understood her confusion. My voice had grown deep and rough with the closeness of impending change, barely recognizable. Already, fur coated my legs and thighs, flowed up my back to my neck. I clung to my humanoid shape by a claw-tip.

 “Please do not be frightened, Melody.” Running my tongue over the tender bend between her neck and shoulder, I familiarized myself with her taste while preparing the area for my teeth. “I have to do this right now and in just this way.”

 “Do what?” Her voice quivered and she bucked in her silken bonds. Soft but strong, they held her securely. “Why have you tied me up? Oh, my God! Are you going to kill me? Answer me, damn you!”

 She slumped in her bindings, her body relaxing in resignation. “What else could I expect, right? After all, you did tell me you were a serial killer…oh, God! I thought you were kidding.”

 A heavy sigh rumbled through me. “For crying out loud, Melody, relax. How ridiculous can you be? Of course, I’m not going to kill you. If I’d wanted to do that, I certainly wouldn’t have asked you to marry me.”

 “Then why do you have me tied up?”

 I resumed stroking her skin, finding it silkier than the cloth that bound her.

 “Be patient with me. I’m trying to come up with the words to explain what I am…what I have to do…what is going to happen between us in the next half hour. Right about now, I want to kick myself for promising to always be honest and truthful with you.”

 She let her head fall forward as my thumbs rubbed in circular motions, pressing out the knots in her neck.

 “Mhhhhmm, oh wow, I love a man who can give a good massage.” Turning her head, the muscles in her neck straining, she glanced over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of my face.

 I drew back quickly, not wanting her to see me clearly. Not yet.

 “Waking up tied to a bed is not the most reassuring situation for a woman to find herself in, you know. If you’re not planning to murder me and hide the body, you didn’t have to tie me up. I’m not exactly what you would call uncooperative.”

 “That can and might change at any moment, darling. I have no idea how you will take my news. You may not want me anymore.”

 Her voice gone dreamy with relaxation, she dredged up the gumption to tease me. “Is this where you tell me you don’t like eating poontang? No, wait; let me guess…you don’t really like black chicks, right? I know…you just can’t get into fat gals.” She lowered her head, easing the tension in her shoulders. “Since we both know those are all lies, what could you possibly tell me that would cause me to stop wanting you?”

 “Harrumph! You are definitely right about it being none of the above.” Sighing, I eased my hands under her body, palming her full breasts, loving the fact I had to open my fingers wide to encompass her bountiful flesh. Besides my personal preference for a big woman, I prayed her extra cushioning meant she could hold up under some serious pounding. Despite my wishing our first time could be otherwise, she had a bumpy ride ahead of her…and a frightening one.

 Burying my face against the side of her neck, I squeezed her round globes, pinching those thick, pouty nipples and pressing her back up tight against my belly. I took a deep breath. The only way to get this done was to get it done.

 “I’m what humans would call a werewulf.”

 “Oh, you’re into fantasy play! I can get into that. Awooooo.” She made a howling sound, and then giggled. Spreading her legs as far as she could, she thrust her curvy ass up toward me, exposing her dripping pussy. “Come on, you big bad wolf. Eat my little red hood up again!”

 “I’m not joking, Melody.” I gave her behind a stinging swat. She howled again, this time in protest, and I quickly rubbed her reddened bottom, soothing the slight sting. Bending down, I planted an apologetic kiss to her rounded cheek.

 “Listen, I am not really a werewolf, but that is the closest thing that compares to what I really am. I have a lot in common with the legend of the werewolf, such as having to change on the night of the full moon. Ordinarily, I can change at will. Once a month I am forced into my fur form and retain that shape until I fu--until moon wanes the next morning.”

 “I know you can’t really expect me to believe your wild story, Hunter. That would make me as crazy as you are beginning to sound.” She sounded scared. She smelled scared. I knew she had to find this entire, bizarre conversation frightening.

 “Please don’t fear me, love.” My hands roved up and down her silken back and hips, across her sloping shoulders. “If you can, control your fear, for fear brings out the beast. I know this all sounds crazy, even impossible, but unfortunately, in a few minutes, I’ll prove it to you.”

 Melody stilled beneath me, voice trembling so badly, I could barely make out her words. “Either you are insane, or I have fallen down a rabbit hole.”

 Deliberately avoiding her erogenous zones, I massaged the tension from her tight muscles. “The fall itself is okay, what hurts is that damn hard bump when you land,” I murmured, stroking her tangled mass of curls away from her face. I wanted to see her reaction when she caught her first glimpse of me in mid-change form.

 She didn’t take it well. Mouth opened in a soundless cry, she bucked away from me, struggling against the silken bindings that held her fast. Her mouth opened again, this time emitting a shrill scream that battered my sensitive eardrums. I’d never heard someone sustain a scream for such a long time, at such a loud level. Finally, all trace of animation left her face, leaving her features waxy and doll-like. Her irises rolled up ‘til only white remained and she slumped to the bed in a dead faint.

 At least she had stopped screaming. My ears ringing, I chalked that up as a definite plus. Considering her less than optimal reaction, I figured my best course of action would be to get the hardest part over and done while she was unconscious. Despite her voluptuous size, her vagina was dainty, almost petite, and my cock wasn’t getting any smaller--in fact, just the opposite. Not withstanding the use of the gel lubricant, getting into her tight channel was going to hurt.

 By rights, I should shift completely; take her in full wulf form. Somehow, I knew if I did that, she would totally freak. I didn’t want to hurt her or frighten her more than necessary, but the Human mating rituals--dating, marriage, and the like--mean nothing to a wulf, did not bind us to a mate. Wulves mate for life when they bond, and that was what I needed to do tonight.

 I intended our mating to be permanent and binding on both of us. For that to happen, I needed to inject my DNA material into her bloodstream and take hers into mine. There are three ways to do this: kissing, biting and fucking. To be safe and thorough, I wouldn’t abandon a single step of the ritual.

 Kissing is an excellent way to exchange saliva and DNA. I had already gathered some of her DNA material from the sweet source of her tasty pussy. There was no need to kiss her, I just wanted to. Kissing her made my head swim and my cock harden. I’d added kissing Melody to my daily ‘to do’ list.

 I only needed to bite her once to ingest a small amount of her flesh and leave another sampling of my DNA in her bloodstream. This first bite would serve as a means of marking her, visible and physical proof to other wulves that I had claimed my bitch and woe betide anyone who would think of poaching. I’d make sure the other love bites were enjoyable.

 I had yet to fuck Melody. About to rectify this oversight, I gritted my teeth, eager to slide into her snug channel and plow through her hot, buttery cunt. I could hardly wait to plumb the depths of her little vagina and shoot my sperm directly into her womb. I longed to deposit my seed--the ultimate DNA material--into that sacred chamber, the most efficient blood circulating site in the female body.

 Committed to getting my cock inside her before she awoke, I allowed my body to relax and fall completely into mid-change. Moaning with the pleasure of the change, I keened aloud, consumed by the feelings of freedom and power my change always engenders within me. Fur rippled over my chest, down my arms and legs and across my back. My ears and teeth elongated, claws extending. My thick fur caused me to look much bulkier than I did in smooth skin, more like a monster. I feared she would find this version of me horrific.

 In mid-change, my senses intensified. Smell, hearing and sight sharpened, becoming ultra-sensitive until I could hear the rhythmic beating of her heart, the breath soughing through her slightly opened mouth. Her scent burst upon my olfactory glands, her pussy exuding a heady, rut-inspiring musk that caused me to fling my head back and howl a mating challenge to the ceiling.

 Lowering my head, I whiffed at the legs, cunt and anus of my mate, following my own familiar scent trail of saliva behind her knees, along her chunky thighs and between the slick folds of her creamy sex. I lingered at her anal cavity, nudging that small hole, my elongated nose pushing insistently against the puckered dimple. The tart, spicy smell wafting from her dark opening had me salivating, drool dripping from my jaws.

 Keening and whining with need, I left that intriguing place and moved up, prepared to mount my bitch. Careful of my claws, I grabbed her waist, hauled her limp body up to position my aching sex at the door of her cunt.

 I pressed against the tight ring of muscles guarding her opening. By now, my cock had grown so large and hard, the plum-shaped head had difficulty entering the door of her small channel. Wet as she was, slicked up as my cock was, I still found it hard going penetrating her. Gritting my teeth, I persisted until the helmeted head finally punched through the narrow opening of her pussy and my thick length surged in, stretching resisting muscles.

 Thank the Moon above she had yet to regain consciousness. My god, she was tight. Tight and hot and so deliciously wet I growled and whimpered at the mind-blowing feel of her thick thighs surrounding mine, her crinkly pubic hair rubbing against my matted fur, the walls of her cunt sucking at my huge shaft. What made her think she could fool me and pass herself off as a prostitute? This tight pussy hadn’t held a cock in over a year.

 Finally seated all the way in, I rested my considerable bulk against her back and hung there, emotionally exhausted, physically drained from holding back so as not to hurt her.

 Her inner muscles contracted, surprising me, squeezing my cock and sending ripples of heated lust shooting up my spine. My hips bucked, pushing my cock up her narrow passage with lustful force.

 She awoke crying out with pain, twisting under me to escape my cock, a huge invader she had to believe was tearing her in two.

 “No, Melody, lie still!” The order, the plea came out distorted, spoken using vocal chords no longer designed for human speech.

 “Hurts!” she whimpered, still wriggling, trying to get away. She didn’t realize what her small, tentative movements were doing to me. Lava sizzled in my balls, burned up my shaft, making me want to thrust and thrust in her, uncaring of her comfort. I managed to fight that urge down. My clawed hands clamped down on her hips, immobilizing her.

 “Sorry…sorry.”

 It was terribly hard pushing words out of a Wulfen throat, but she deserved an explanation and I desperately needed to offer what comfort I could. “Soon over…soon better… mate.”

 Her ragged moans and breathy entreaties for mercy shredded my heart. Tears leaked from my eyes even as my hips relentlessly continued to move. Driven by the biological imperative to mate, I couldn’t stop fucking her, taking her.

 Soon, my pre-cum and her own natural lubrication, coupled with the generous application of gel, began easing the way. My buttocks clenched and flexed in a smooth, slick, easy rhythm I’d maintain until she screamed with excitement, not pain.

 Her renewed cries rose, shrill and urgent in my lustful hearing. This time, they signified rising pleasure. Mewling piteously, her body strained up and back, toward my pistoning shaft, begging me to fuck her harder, faster, deeper.

 Heart easing at this proof of her willingness, I gave her what she wanted, rocking our hips together with jarring force. Tongue lolling in slavering ecstasy, I sank deep into her clasping pussy again and again.

 My balls slapped loudly, impacting with the clit at the top of her mound at the end of each inward thrust. The sharp sting to my tightened sac roused my lust to fever pitch. I groaned, astonished to find my knot prematurely forming within her constricted channel, locking us together. It grew enormous, quickly expanding the walls of her sex until she squeezed my shaft so tightly I feared death by cock strangulation.

 With a harsh, animalistic howl, I snuggled my hips against her, grinding, a finger circling against her clit as my balls churned, preparing to jettison a load of boiling cum.

 My strokes pierced her cervix, the broad head of my long cock intruding past the door of her womb. I spewed my seed there, flooding the life-giving chamber. My knot plugged the entry, ensuring no drop escaped.

 Bending my head to her shoulder, I sank my fangs in her, ripping a minute bit of flesh away. Hunger roared through me, burned along my nerve endings as the sweet taste of her blood flooded my mouth. Another gush of sperm rocketed from me, bathing her womb with Wulfen life.

 Pulsing around me, her pussy rained hot honey over my cock as she shuddered and quaked in my arms. Flinging her body backward, lifting her arms to encircle my neck, Melody dug her fingers into my furred shoulders and wept as she came apart.

  

 Uhmm…burb…Seconds

  

 Distantly, I heard her screams as her own orgasm hit her hard. She stiffened beneath me. Her vagina locked down on me, inflexible enough to hurt, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing. Her silken muscles milked the cum from my rigid length.

 Slumping down, I rested my bulk carefully on her back before gathering the strength to ease us both to lie on our sides. Still knotted, my cock throbbed inside the snug channel of her sex. Releasing pulse after pulse of potent semen, my lengthy ejaculation allowed my potential future offspring the optimum chance at life, the chance to take root in the fertile delta of her womb.

 Content, I nuzzled my mark, licking the small bite. The healing agent in my saliva ensured its quick healing. I looked down, possessive pride and renewed lust growing in me as I examined my handiwork. The fiery inflamed patch stood out in bold relief from the darkness of her skin, easily visible, telling the entire world this bitch now belonged to me. The wound, when dabbed with my sperm, would never fade; never darken. Soon all that would remain was the pale raised circle of my fang imprints.

 My knot slowly relaxed, gradually releasing me from the tight constriction of her pussy. Totally flaccid and sated, my cock slid from her, followed by a gush of pungent liquids. The hormone-laden mix of my spunk and her ejaculate spilled out, pooling beneath her. Quickly, before it soaked into the bedding, I reached down and scooped a dollop onto the end of my forefinger. Bringing it to her neck, I smeared it over my claiming bite mark.

 “Oww! Ouch! Damn!” Melody bucked under me, body twisting in response to the white-hot burn at her throat. “My god, Hunter, what the hell did you put on me? It burns like acid!”

 “It won’t last long, baby. Let me make it better for you.”

 I slipped my tongue over her mark, licked off the taste of our joining. While I nuzzled in her neck, her body relaxed, telling me the pain already faded.

 “Better?”

 “There, yes, but my poontang hurts like hell. Your tongue work wonders in other places?”

 I loved her wonderful sense of humor. “I was just about to take care of that sweet little honey box. I certainly don’t want it to be in any discomfort.”

 Satisfied over the completeness of my claiming, I gladly turned my attention to cleaning up my mate. I untangled myself from her and eased back, taking in her glorious form. Lying in a boneless heap, Melody drowsily relaxed from her last orgasm. Both legs splayed by the silken bonds, exposing her sopping, reddened pussy, she raised her head and smiled at me.

 A rich, enticing, pungent smell wafted from her pussy. Made up of a mixture of our fluids--my sperm, her juice and a reassuringly small amount of blood, all blending into one compound--it teased and tantalized my distended nostrils.

 I was relieved. There is usually a lot of blood when a female takes me for the first time. Thank the Moon Melody’s bio-engineered sexual organs were perfect for taking wulf cock and bearing wulf litters. Her pussy would stretch to accommodate my mid-change girth with no lasting damage.

 Sliding down her body, making my way to the fragrant area of her sex, I descended slowly, dragging my claws lightly and abrasively over the skin of her breasts, belly and thighs. She shivered beneath me, nipples beading up and stiffening.

 Answering the call of her pussy, my tongue snaked out, lapping at the residue of my claiming. I lovingly bathed my mate, cleaning her from clit to asshole, taking care, occasionally, to dip into her folds and lick up the cream coating her opening.

 “Don’t stop.” Melody lazily shifted her hips, inviting my continued ministrations. Moving into her line of sight, I allowed her to look her fill at my monstrous form, heart quaking inside at the thought she might still reject me.

 “Me-lo-dy…want…fuck you…now…again. Let…me?”

 The words came with difficulty. What I really asked, I could not verbalize in my present form. Will you accept me as I am? Will you take me into your body without shame? Love me and bear my pups with pride?

 “Untie me, Hunter. I want to face you when you fuck me this time.”

 That scared me. My breath stalled. If I untied her only to have her panic…

 “Sure? Control…gone…might…hurt.”

 I hadn’t fucked her nearly enough to be able to control my more animalistic urges. What would she do if I hurt her again? I swallowed thickly, terribly afraid that she might fight me. If she did, I would subdue her and take what I needed, no matter my soul would shrivel for the deed, later.

 I shook my head, denying her request. “Don’t…want to…hurt.”

 “You will never hurt me or harm me. I’ve learned that much, tonight. Untie me.” A small smile tilted the corners of her full lips. Her golden eyes sparkled up at me, filled with what even a cretin like me knew had to be the beginnings of affection. “I want to hold you.”

 How did she come to this pass so quickly? What drove her? Could it be the same instant attraction I felt immediately upon meeting her? Or was she responding to the biologically implanted command to adhere emotionally to the wulf that captured her?

 Whichever it was, I realized I didn’t give a damn. It was enough to know she held me in some affection. Given time and nurturing, true love would grow. I planned to nurture her with plenty of emotional and physical love.

 I shredded the ties holding her with my claws, too impatient to get her turned and in my arms to bother with untying them. She came to me without fear, without a thought to what those same claws could do to her tender flesh.

 Flattening the hefty mounds of her breasts against my chest, she leaned into me, taking my lips with an aggression that would have done justice to the most alpha of our females. Damn it, I swear she wanted to kill me, squirming all over my lap, waking old Buford with a sure touch that had him leaping lively between us.

 I didn’t even try to stop her. Instead, I reveled in the delight and passion she poured over me. Her open mouth roamed my skin, stopping to nip and lick the ridges and rises of my neck, chest and abdomen.

 Oh, goddess, was she going to? Yes!

 Despite her earlier protestation and my reluctant promise, she had fisted my cock, sexily licking the slit at the crown of my head. Throwing back my head, I howled as my bitch’s lips encircled my cock, taking just the jutting tip into the blistering heat of her mouth. I’d never felt anything better than the hot cavern of her mouth closing about my penis.

 My blood, my mind…everything went south as she gripped my distended length in her hands, fisting me and pumping my shaft with firm, slow strokes. All the while, her mouth played with the purple-crested head of my cock. My hips rocked forward as the tip of her tongue invaded my slit. Fire danced down the shaft, igniting a secondary conflagration in my balls. She palmed those full sacs, tugging daringly on the coarse hairs that covered them, her twinkling eyes locked with mine.

 Releasing the tip of my cock with an audible pop, Melody leaned back on her heels smiling at me, licking her thick lips and playfully rubbing her hands up and down my thighs, running her fingers through my dense fur. Beneath her touch, the muscles jumped, sensitive nerves twanged, as though she touched the exposed neurons.

 I thought I would go up in flames. Instead, I willingly drowned in the almost tangible wave of her desire flowing over me, calming and exciting me at the same time. I had given my heart to her earlier that evening, now I handed over my soul.

 “Ride…me,” I growled, urging her back up, trying to resituate her on my lap.

 Resisting my lead, she shook her head, setting her thick brown curls bouncing. Lowering her lips to my seeping head once more, Melody sucked hard on the tip, licking it as she would a favorite lollipop before letting it pop out of her mouth. Her hands combed through the fur at the base of my cock, teasing fingers brushed the hairs dusting my balls. “I’m not through tasting you yet.”

 “Your mouth… killing…me!”

 “Die happy, lover!” She snickered. Her smile faded as she sank her lips back over me, taking a surprising amount of my length down her throat, turning my world up side down. I’d branded her, now she returned the favor. She marked me as her own, inexorably placing her brand on my cock and heart.

 Words escaped me. Inside, feverish phrases screamed through my mind. If voice had been given to my ranting I would have hollered, “Oh, yeah, fuck me with your mouth…suck my salami, lover. Eat my cock, love, baby bitch…don’t forget I got nuts to go with that cheese log.”

 Willing and compliant, like a faithful puppy gamboling at her heels, I allowed her to assume the lead, panting for her attentions.

 She was in control, but she didn’t want to ride me. She wanted to be under me as I fucked her hard. Gazing down on all that luscious, full bounty, I couldn’t think of a single solitary complaint; in fact, just the opposite.

 With her lying on her back, I could suck on her fat, turgid nipples while she clasped me in the hot, enclosing embrace of her big, warm thighs. I would be able to see her acceptance of my inhuman appearance as the folds of her dainty pussy unfurled to receive my thick cock and I sank deep into her welcoming heat.

 I teased her with my clawed hands, traced her eyebrows, plucked at her breasts. My fanged mouth pulled on the diamond-hard tips. Her amply curved tummy rippled convulsively as my claws raked her skin, scoring light furrows over her flesh without breaking the skin, just this side of pain.

 Her arms opened wide, as did her legs, offering herself to me with a sweet, simple surrender that moved me beyond tears. Wide as her wrist, my cock tunneled its ponderous way into her tight opening. Her pussy gave way, muscles stretching and flesh parting, clinging to me, scorching the head and shaft of my cock with her burning internal heat.

 Sex with a werewulf can be messy. We tend to drool. She didn’t seem to care, eagerly lifting her mouth to me and letting her tongue tangle with mine, deftly avoiding my fangs.

 Bodies moving together languidly, eyes silently conveying our growing ardor, we strove to gift each other with the maximum pleasure the sex act could bring. Her little human claws scored my back, sank into the hills of my buttocks. The tiny pain was deliciously enjoyable.

 Not stopping there, she grabbed my furred ass cheeks, pulled them apart and fingered the beginning of the vestigial tail protruding above my rectum in this form.

 Shit!

 Her fingers, playing at the base of my tail, one of a werewulf’s most erogenous zones, acted like a turbo button, kicking my lust into high speed. I responded by surrendering all control.

 Her eyes widened as I gripped her knees, yanking her legs wide. One hand circling my cock, I beat the heavy head against her clit, rubbing it in the juices bubbling out of her cunt.

 “Oh, shit, yeah!” She twisted under me, her nails scoring my back through my fur.

 Dragging her to me, I began plunging in and out between her thighs. Hips blurring, I pumped her sweet cunt full of my cock. My meat pounded into her, parting her clinging flesh as easily as Moses’ rod parted the Red Sea, thudding against her cervix over and over.

 Terrifying to my own ears, indicative of my lost control, mindless growls and snarls fell from my lips. I couldn’t stop the harsh sounds, could only endure until my growls turned to moans and whines.

 Mouth twisted in a wordless snarl, she answered my cries, throwing her hips up at me. Mouth open wide, she screamed in long, drawn-out continuous wails as orgasm after orgasm slammed through us both, shaking the foundations of our world.

 I wasn’t ready to stop fucking her. Sinking in, pulling back, burying my cock in her repeatedly, I ached with a hunger I feared I could never appease. My cock, grown huge, shuttled back and forth through the tight corridor of her wet pussy, striving for the ultimate intimacy. I wanted to crawl under her skin. I wanted to make us one…one being, one heart, and one soul.

 With a strangled cry, I angled her chunky legs over my shoulders, tipping her hips up so I could sink deeper than I ever had before. I fucked her frenziedly, a distant part of me screaming I must be hurting her. Another part--shamefully, the larger part of me--gloried in the sheer, life-affirming action of aggressively breeding my bitch… mine!

 A triumphant bass laugh rumbled through me as I slammed into my woman and realized her screams were cries of ecstasy. Her body shook, breasts jiggled as she fucked me back, every bit as violently as I fucked her. When my knot formed this time, I roared. Bending my head and sinking my fangs into the bend of her neck and shoulder, I showed her how pleasurable my bite could be. Lodging my cockhead in the door of her womb, I pushed in relentlessly, determined to enter that sacred citadel.

 Thank goodness, my duplex had soundproofing. The size of my knot didn’t disconcert her this time around. No, this time, it seemed to act as an aphrodisiac. She writhed, screaming, on the thick pole of my cock, so loud in her enjoyment that civil-minded citizens, had they been able to hear us, would have called the cops in to investigate the mayhem occurring within my secluded walls.

 My spine bowed as my cock pumped jet after jet of steaming cum into her womb. My clawed fingers shredded the sheets by her head and my clawed toes ripped the stuffing out of the mattress as my hips flexed, driving my cock deep, not allowing a single drop, not one, to escape the fertile ground of my bitch.

 Fucking her, loving her, had stripped me of all control. Giving up the struggle to maintain my mid-change shape, I surrendered to the call of total change. Peace washed over me as I dropped my head to her cushiony tits. I heaved a satisfied sigh of repletion and allowed my formidable wulf form to collapse between her legs, my knotted cock still trapped within her spasming pussy.

 Moments later, a startled scream split the air, dispelling my peaceful rest. Two hands gripped the sensitive sides of my muzzle and tugged, abruptly snatching me out of my stupor.

 My intrepid mate yanked my head up to meet her eyes. “A Wolf- manlover is one thing,” she ground out, giving my shaggy head a sharp tug, “but a huge fucking dog buried between my legs is a whole other matter. If the neighbors see this, I’ll never get invited to join the P.T.A.”

  

 I Share A Little Revisionist History

  

 “Were you bitten, you poor thing? Is that how you became a werewolf?”

 I had curled up along side her, nestled against her soft curves while we recuperated from that last bout of strenuous fucking. Her ridiculous remark had my head snapping around. I glared at her, fangs bared. Maybe the snarl that ruffled my snout and my sharp barking protest adequately conveyed my disgruntled reaction to her ignorant question, but to make sure, I attempted mind-speak.

 I had never before tried it with non-pack; still, our DNA had blended well during our two lengthy mating sessions. Theoretically, she should be able to both hear my thoughts and project her own to me.

 What a revolting idea. I have a heritage,not a disease. I’ve told you I am not a werewolf. I am Wulfen--spelled with a ‘u’. My sire and mam are Wulfen, as were most of their parents before them, all the way back to the crash.

 An absurdly huffy expression came over her face. “Well, la-dee-dah! I don’t see why you should take offense. After all, I know nothing about you, how you became what you are, or whatever. I’m trying to be understanding, here.”

 What would you say if I were to ask you who painted your skin that luscious color? Better yet, what if I decided you came by your lovely dark skin tone by bumping into Rainbow Bright?I thought at her, trying to get her to see my point of view.

 “Rainbow Br--don’t be ridiculous! I would tell you the situations are nothing at all the-- hey!”She reared up, narrowing her eyes and glared down at me. “Hey, are you talking inside my head? You are! How come I can hear you?”

 We are mates. Wulfen pairs are telepathic within their bond and within the pack.

 I leaned up and licked her chin before flopping back down and laying my head in the comforting bowl of her lap. She absently combed her fingers through my fur, sending shards of pleasure through me. My tail thumped against the mattress like a metronome gone crazy.

 “Cool! I can deal. I’ve always loved Star Wars and Star Trek and stuff like that.” She gazed at me, eyes shining. “This is all so… neat.Telepathy, huh? Truthfully, I did wonder how we were going to communicate, what with the completely different species-thing going on between us. I mean, no one’s ever known for sure if dogs could understand human speech beyond ‘fetch’ and ‘roll over’ or if they were just responding to the tone of voice.”

 I lifted my head and gave her a long, mock mean look. Not so completely different, and I am not a dog. Don’t make me bite you.

 “Sorry. Of course you aren’t.” She agreed hurriedly, unsuccessfully smothering a giggle while tentatively scratching behind my left ear. “Just what the hell are you? I mean…if it looks like a dog, and barks like a dog then logic suggests…”

 I don’t give a rat’s ass what logic suggests. I am a member of an alien race that crash-landed here on Earth during your Ice Age. Wulfen are bipedal/quadrupedal hominids, possessing three forms--or two, with a mid-way manifestation. Unlike you humans, who are locked into one form, we shift. During certain times and seasons, one form takes precedence over the other.

 “Get the shit out! You’re pulling my tail.”

 No, I’m not. You don’t have a tail. Delicious looking tush, but no tail.

 She cuffed me. “You know what I meant.”

 What’s easier to believe, the fact that I am alien or the fact that I am Wulfen? My people crash-landed on this planet thousands of years ago. Ours was a military transport ferrying a take-over government to an embattled world galaxies away. They were accompanied by ten packs of soldiers, predominantly males. The few females were quickly taken as mates by the pack leaders and government heads.

 “What does a pack consist of?”

 At the time, it was a company of a thousand soldiers.

 “Whoa!” She sat up, dislodging me from her lap. “Ten thousand soldiers is a lot of people!”

 Don’t forget to add in the government officials.

 “Damn! How big was that ship?”

 It was huge. Do you want to hear this, or are you going to keep interrupting?

 “Sorry.” She grabbed a pillow, plumped it and stuffed it behind her head. “Okay, I’m comfortable, now. Go on.”

 I resettled my head in her lap. Her fingers resumed their soft combing of my fur and I closed my eyes in ecstasy at the erotic tugging on my skin. She would be aghast if she knew her actions were considered an invitation to share carnal pleasures.

 Shortly after the crash, the government officials got to worrying about our chances of surviving as a species with so few females among us. They ordered our scientists to come up with a solution.

 The first breeding program they tried was with what you call dogs. Guinea pigs were needed, and a hundred soldiers volunteered for the preliminary experiments.

 It turned out the biological make-up of Wulves and Canis domesticus were closer than some skeptics thought. Live births occurred.

 Not many of those pups survived. The few that lived did not have the power to change. They did have increased intelligence and the ability of telepathic communication with their sires. Also, they had some of our biological imperatives such as mate loyalty, which they passed on to future generations, establishing the different wolf breeds. Though the government vetoed the dog program, the minimal success of those pairings gave our scientists the basis of the information that made it possible for our race to breed with certain strains of humans.

 It took many years before the scientists and the government reached a compromise. While both sides knew it wouldn’t be much help in the short-run, it was agreed the initiation of a long-term breeding program was the most viable solution.

 A thousand volunteers were drafted--one hundred from each pack. My first planet-side ancestor was one of the thousand. He left a journal.

 “Drafted volunteers, huh?”

 I forgave her interruption because her giggle was so damned cute. Still, I turned my head and gave her a warning nip high up on the inside of her thigh. The return slap to the side of my head had my ears ringing and my cock distending from its sheath. Her gasp told me she noted the new development.

 You should know that a show of female aggression is highly arousing to my kind.

 She harrumphed. “You should know that those teeth are damned sharp.”

 You didn’t seem to mind those teeth earlier,I reminded her with a soothing lap of my tongue to the abused area.

 She squirmed under my ministrations, uncomfortable with how close my tongue was to a more interesting site. “Yeah, well,” grabbing my jowls, she pulled my mouth away, “this ain’t earlier. Get back to the story.”

 The thousand underwent genetic modification, received human DNA before leaving their packs to roam among the primitive humans. They took human females by force, mating with any strong enough to survive the genetic coding implantation. No doubt, many of your werewolf tales of abduction and seduction arose from those times.

 “So, technically, you are what we call a werewolf. Or, at least, what we have called werewolves all through the ages.” She sounded very smugly satisfied, back to believing her assumptions valid.

 Sorry to burst your bubble, bitch; however, there were no wolves, as you know them in existence when we arrived. I just told you the only species closely resembling us was the primitive form of Canis domesticus.

 “Darwin sure didn’t take you guys into consideration when he postulated his theories, did he? By the way, I got your ‘bitch,’ Hunter!”

 She frowned at me, smelling of burnt rubber. I batted at my nose with a paw, trying to clear the acrid scent from my nostrils. Tucking away that little fact for future reference, I noted: When mate smells like burnt rubber, walk softly.

 Among my kind, ‘bitch’ is a word of respect and honor.

 She didn’t look too convinced, so I left that topic for later, too. When I took her home to meet the pack, she would learn I spoke truthfully.

 The offspring resulting from those first unions, if they lived past puppyhood, were able to mate with either species. Most female children were collected before they reached puberty and returned to our enclaves. There, they became the property of wulf males eager and desperate for mates.

 A few escaped our detection and lived to mate with human males. The children of those unions carried the wulf DNA as a dominant/recessive gene. Their descendents thrived and went on to mate with others, passing down their dominant genetic modification to their descendants. We found we could activate the gene by delivering a new infusion of wulf DNA.

 “Is that why you bit me?” Her hand crept up to the sore spot on her throat.

 Yes.

 “So, how many of us are there? Breed women, I mean.”

 Relatively speaking, I would say, not many. Actually, there is no way of knowing. It is illegal for us to reveal our existence so few of us socialize with humans more than we have to. The great Pack Council has decreed we are to maintain a low profile.

 “Why?”

 For two reasons: First, the Council fears human governments will panic and mount a “witch-hunt.” They will seek to destroy us because they will fear us, fear our abilities and our intentions.

 “Well, that’s silly. You’ve been among us for thousands of years. I’m sure your people could have conquered us way back in the past. Obviously, ya’ll aren’t interested in ruling the world.”

 True, but our government has never been sane. Imagine the other governments of the world.

 “I see your point. So what’s the second reason?”

 There are factions among us who fear we will dilute our heritage by mixing with what they consider to be mutts.

 “Mutts? You mean us, don’t you? Breed females. What’s the name of this faction?”

 Melody, calm down. They’re fanatics. No one really takes that group seriously.

 “Never mind that, just answer the question.”

 They are called the Separatists. Despite their worries of a naturally occurring wulf/human breed, our scientists still maintain our species is not genetically compatible without artificial manipulation. Other than with Breed females, who are more Wulfen than human, no records have been found supporting the few outlandish claims. Besides, the only time our sperm is viable is when we fuck while in fur form. We’ve been forbidden to do that with humans.

 She stilled. Her fingers ceased combing through my hair and tentatively stroked her abdomen. “You were still knotted inside me when you switched into this form. Does that mean…?”

 I fought hard to keep my elation from coloring my thoughts. That I could have made you pregnant? It’s possible.

 A frown creased her eyebrows. “Why do I get the impression you wouldn’t mind that a bit?”

 I wouldn’t mind. I won’t deny I want pups with you.

 “Did you say pups?”

 She reared up to stare into my eyes, hands cradling her belly as if guarding against invasion. “Hunter, tell me I’m not going to birth puppies! That would be…” She swallowed hard, facial expression going blank. Her shoulders bowed. Her head moved back and forth in a negative motion. “I can’t even think of a word to describe what that would be!”

 My barking woof--laughter in this form--shook my body.

 Mother Nature takes better care of her creatures than that. Your body shapes the body of our child. He or she will grow in your belly and be born in skin form. Shortly after birth, if all goes as normal, the child will change to fur form and remain that way for about a year.

 Melody slumped against the pillows. “This is all too much to take in!”

 She was right. I’d tossed a load of information at her, without giving her the time to assimilate it.

 All right, baby. Let’s leave this for now. I’ll share more history with you later. Why don’t we talk about your problem and how we plan to deal with it?

 I saw her neck muscles jump as she swallowed hard, her eyes growing large and wary.

 “I don’t know what you mean.”

 I cut across her verbal dithering. Don’t lie to me. I can smell your deception. You know just what I mean.

 She didn’t realize, yet, that I could read some of her surface thoughts. They were still sketchy, but as our bond deepened, so would our communication. I refer to your brother-in-law and the troubles he’s caused you.

 As she had done earlier this evening when mention of her troubles came up, she blanched. Her beautiful skin turned a sallow hue that leached the vitality from her pretty face. Both hands clenched in my fur, trembling, and she buried her face against my side.

 “Please, Hunter, leave it alone. Gerald is a vicious animal. He’ll try to kill you. I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you.”

 I am the vicious animal, here, my love. Never forget that. This Gerald has caused you pain and for that, alone, he will die. Do not doubt that I can and will avenge you of every tear he has made you cry.

 She sat back up and I watched her thinking about what I said, watched her eyes roam over my huge form stretched out beside her. On all fours, in Wulfen form, I was almost as big as a pony. My broad head reached higher than her shoulders. My shoulders and hind legs bristled with muscle. My muzzle and jaw, wider than the normal wolf configuration--were equipped with an arsenal of deadly fangs. They could snap a man’s arm off or sever his head from his neck with ease. It took me a while to recognize the emotion growing in her golden brown eyes: Hope.

 I will not be alone tonight. My cousin will arrive soon. Once he gets here, we will beard this Gerald in his den. Until then, let’s play!

 I’d been bombarded by her scent while we conversed. Her unique flavor had flooded my senses until I had to have another taste of her.

 Rising and leaping from the bed, I flexed, first my hind legs, then the rest of me out in a lazy stretch, working out the kinks I’d gotten while curled beside her. Ready for sex, I approached her, gingerly navigating the soft mattress with the studied gait of a drunken sailor. I jumped on her, my massive weight bearing her down, tumbling her back against the pillows. Straddling her thighs, I lowered my head, trying to get my muzzle near her pussy.

 To my unwelcome surprise, she grabbed my ears and hauled back, keeping me from my prize. I easily broke her hold and dove for her vagina, lips drawn up in a warning growl. Just before I reached my goal, she slapped me, hard.

 Ears ringing, I sat up on my haunches, shaking my head in bewilderment.

 What the fuck?

 Then it hit me. She didn’t want me to fuck her while in fur! In full Wulfen form, my thought processes are slower, more primal, which explains my being so slow on the uptake.

 Do you reject me? Is this form monstrous to you?

 I couldn’t understand her reaction. She had consented to be my mate, had fucked me and enjoyed it while I held mid-change form. It never occurred to me that she would not want sex with me in all ways.

 Her grip eased but she did not let go entirely. “It…will take some getting used to. At least, in your other form, I could still see traces of your humanity. In this one…”

 I am not human in either form. Only the outside resembles your kind.

 “I understand that…intellectually. It’s just hard to get past this shape.” She sighed, petting my present form. I didn’t want her to pet me, damn it. I wanted her to fuck me.

 I cannot change back until the moon wanes. This is our mating night and I want to fuck you again. Are you afraid? My cock is large, yes, but smaller in this form than it is in mid-change. It will not hurt as much as it did before.

 She bit her lip, took a deep breath. She was gearing up for something, but I swear by the Moon, I never could have imagined what she said next.

 “Look, I lied about being a prostitute, okay? Tonight is the first night I’ve been on the street in sixteen years, and for over ten of those years I’ve been Mrs. Joe Vanilla. Hell, my husband was a minister and didn’t believe in practicing oral sex.” She paused, nodding sagely at my involuntary yelp.

 “Now you know why I blew sky high in the restaurant. Vanessa appreciated the hell out of that entrée, let me tell you, having gone without for more years than I want to remember. At any rate,” she continued, wriggling into a more comfortable position against me, “fucking a…being who looks waaaay too much like a dog…I just don’t know if I can do that right now.”

 Then don’t fuck me. Let me fuck you. You don’t have to do a thing…just lie back and--

 “Think of England? Excuse me if I can’t see the difference. A dog between my legs is a dog, whether I let him or beg him.”

 I didn’t bother reminding her I was a sentient being, not a dog. She knew it better than she let on. Subconsciously, her ability to converse with me mind-to-mind had to be reinforcing my claim to true sentience, no matter my shape. Incidentally, I loved the fine edge of sarcasm sharpening her words. My mate could turn a phrase with more panache than a square dancer could do-see-do his partner.

 All right, you need me to convince you it’s okay to fuck your mate--which is like being your husband, you know. I don’t think wives are supposed to deny their husbands. Isn’t there a law about that?

 “I’m sorry.” She sighed, shaking her head, no. “It would be like fucking Lassie.”

 Now you have really insulted me. First, a bitch played Lassie, so I’m very glad to hear you wouldn’t want to fuck her. Secondly, you--a black woman who should know better--are exhibiting the ugly trait of bigotry.

 She gasped. “I am not!”

 Yes, you are. It’s okay to fuck me when I look human or even when I look half-human. Let me take on fur and all of a sudden, I ampersona non gratis. You need to remember I am the same person you sank your nails into, crying, “Fuck me, Hunter! Fuck me harder…make me come.”

 Yeah, yeah, I knew that wasn’t very gentlemanly of me, but then, I was no man, gentle or otherwise. I was an aroused Wulfen whose swollen cock was hanging out of his sheath, ready for fucking. That pussy belonged to me and I didn’t like her trying to deny me. I would never force her against her will, but I sure in hell didn’t have to be polite about her refusing me.

 Look, I want some pussy. Let me just lick your pussy. I won’t put my cock in it until…wait! I can prove I’m different. Dogs don’t like cats, right? Well, I love the hell out of your pussy. That should convince you I am not a dog, no matter any coincidental resemblance!

 Helpless laughter spilled from her and I knew she caught the mental picture I sent her, of a giant dog eagerly licking a tiny, wet pussycat.

 I looked at her--my cute, luscious bitch--lying there with her belly shaking with mirth, her muscles all relaxed and pliable, slowly recovering from her bout of hilarity. All mine.

 Opportunist that I am, I took quick advantage, lunging for my target before she had time to tense back up. Sliding my tongue between her folds, I lapped at her clit, rasping my tongue over the little pearl with feverish determination, expecting to feel her hands dragging me away from my coveted treat at any minute.

 I hand-fed her with pleasure, offering it to her as a trainer feeds his lovebirds, using it to gentle her to my hand. Tender biting tugs on her nipples had her arching her back, mewling in response to the sensations I heaped upon her. The echo of the ecstasy flooding her fed back through our bond. I redoubled my efforts to overwhelm her senses with lust, hoping it would deter her from abruptly ending our love play.

 Imagine my surprise when, instead of resisting me she met my advances with rising ardor, warming to my seductive wooing. Opening her legs wide and meeting my eyes straight on she reached between her legs, shakily unveiling her sex…and her soul.

 I love this--I reared up, licking at her mouth, letting her taste herself on my tongue-- but…why?

 “Only one man has ever looked at me with the level of commitment I see in your eyes. No animal could express a deep emotion like that.” She ran her hands over my head and down my ruff. As if to prove she no longer feared me, she even probed my mouth with her fingers, brushing them against my fangs. I licked her for her trouble.

 “For some reason, you have gone out of your way to convince me you love me and I have accepted you as my future husband. Granted, I had no idea what all I was getting, but then, what woman ever really does. You also made a valid point, much as I hate to admit it, about it being a form of bigotry to happily fuck you only when you look like me. I have always prided myself on being fair to all races, no matter what a small minority may have done to me. Therefore, no more excuses and evasions. I have to trust my own judgment in this matter and not kowtow to what others may think or believe. From now on out, I will make love to you--not to the shape you might currently be wearing, but to you, to Hunter. Just, could we wait on the total insertion thingy a little while? I’m not reneging on my promise…it’s just…I need a little more time to come to terms with seeing you like this.”

 What will the neighbors think?I teased her. What happened to joining the P.T.A.?

 Her smile had a reckless edge to it. “I don’t really give a fuck what the neighbors might think and I figure we’ll home school any…puppies. We will form our own PTA: Puppy Training Association.”

 I thought about what she suggested and decided it was fair. I couldn’t expect her to overcome years of social conditioning in one hour. I had hit her with a lot of world changing information and she deserved some time to assimilate it.

 We will wait to fuck until you can accept me as I am, but I get to do everything else with you. Open your legs…I want to eat your pussy.

  

 We Discuss the Menu

  

 Fortrayn came through the kitchen door five minutes before eleven p.m., stopped dead in his tracks and gave an enthusiastic wulf whistle.

 “Holy shit, Uncle, you’ve hit the jackpot!”

 Melody screamed, covered as much as her hands could hide--which wasn’t much--and ran for our bedroom, her facial expression an interesting blend of horror and intense arousal. Despite her initial horrified response, being caught en flagrante de nekkid obviously turned her on. Hmmm… I’d have to explore that with her at a more opportune time.

 The flash of her bouncing chocolate-hued bottom burned in living color across my retina. I turned to my leering cousin, snarling a warning. Chagrined that I hadn’t heard or smelled his approach, I growled a severe scolding about his impertinent behavior. I may not have sniffed him out, but he certainly had known I was…entertaining.

 When Melody had confessed to being hungry and gone searching for something to eat, I had followed her to the kitchen, determined to continue our romp in surroundings that were more adventurous. Convincing her to spread honey on all her strategically interesting points had taken some doing, but persistence always pays off. I had been in the midst of licking the sweet, sticky syrup from her sweet, sticky flesh--my libido having relegated my mind to somewhere around my hind feet--and that was how I missed Fortrayn’s precipitous entrance.

 This one time, I wished he had been less obedient and less prompt.

 “Whoa! Stop growling at me, it’s no fair blaming me for interrupting you, Uncle. You’re the one who told me to be home by eleven.” Fortrayn tapped his wristwatch, advancing all the way into the kitchen, nose twitching in curiosity. “Funny…she doesn’t smell like din--” His eyes widened, identifying her musk sooner than I had. Of course, fucking her had intensified her scent. With her DNA awakened, any wulf would instantly know her as a Breed female.

 “Uncle Hunter, you go, dog! You’ve found a Breed female! Have you called and informed Chase? Man, what was that astronomical bounty he posted for anyone finding one? You don’t need the money, but it sure won’t hurt having the heir of the Eastern America Pack in your debt. Can I try her out before you send her to him? Oh, man, she smells sweet! Is it true about them being able to take us mid-change?”

 Swallowing my instinctive anger at his erroneous ideas, I barked a harried answer, quickly filling him in on my plans and Melody’s place in my life, anxious to go reassure my bitch. Nudity among den-pack members did not constitute improper behavior.

 “So, you’re keeping her for yourself. Wow! That will totally bum Cousin Chase out when he hears that. So, are we going to rescue your fair Lady from her evil ogre tonight? Cool. It sounds like dinner is going to be exciting. Do we get to scare him? I do like a little adrenalin with my meal…spices things up.”

 Leaving Fortrayn puttering about in the kitchen, I hurried back to Melody, finding her laid out in an ungainly sprawl on the bed, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed into the comforter.

 Leaping onto the bed, I curled up beside her, nudging her hand with my head. She obligingly draped her arm about my neck, still crying as if her heart would break.

 Why are you crying?

 “Your nephew’s--he is your nephew, right?--first sight as he walks into his home is my fat ass waving in the breeze, and you don’t think that’s reason enough to cry?”

 Actually, the term ‘uncle’ is a term of respect among us. Fortrayn is my cousin and since he lives in my den, it is acceptable for him to see your skin. So, no, I do not consider him catching a glimpse of your lusciously dimpled ass something to cry about. You have a beautiful body, one I will proudly show off to my all den members. Everyone in my pack will be secretly--and some not so secretly--lusting after you…especially Fortrayn. If he offends you, I will cuff him.

 “It’s not him causing the problem, I am the problem.” She flopped over onto her back, looking dejected. She swept her open hand down her curvaceous body from neck to pubis. “How can you look at all this and say it’s beautiful?”

 Are you kidding? How can you believe it’s not?

 Her full-blown, dark brown body grew more beautiful to me the more I looked upon her. She had no idea how rare and exotic she appeared and how much the males of my species coveted such ample and well-colored flesh.

 Once the single males catch sight of my pretty, chocolate-colored bitch, there are going to be some envious, disappointed werewulves back on the pack-grounds.

 That seemed to perk her up and she lifted up on her elbows to search my eyes, a smile quivering at the corners of her lips. “You really think so?”

 I know so.

 “Still,” her smile faded, “what kind of person forgets an innocent teenager lives here, and lets him catch her running around naked--worse, lets him catch me playing adult games with you?”

 Wait a minute, love! Back that shit up. Is that what’s causing all this angst? Honey, Fortrayn may appear young, but he is older than you are. Trust me; by no stretch of anyone’s imagination could you call him innocent. Yes, by our standards he’s still a pup, however, some elders on the council still reckon me a youngster.

 “You’re not telling me this just to make me feel better, are you?” She sat all the way up, peering at me suspiciously. I don’t know what she read in my inhuman face, but whatever it was seemed to reassure her. Did she realize how natural our communication had become? I was learning more of her secrets every minute.

 Come back to the kitchen with me. We need your help plotting how to dispose of your problem.

 “Oh, Hunter, must I?” She flinched, cringing away, “I don’t feel up to facing your cousin.”

 Well, I certainly did not intend to accept such cowardice from any mate of mine. Especially cowardice as completely unfounded as this was.

 Yes, you must. So get your chocolate cream confection ass up and headed for the kitchen, woman, before I bite a chunk out of it.

 “Hey, watch it, Fido. Don’t get snippy with me! And don’t you call me ‘woman’ like a punk says ‘bitch’ because I won’t take any disrespectful shit from you.”

 She started for the kitchen, sashaying her dimpled butt in front of me, giving it an extra jiggle for good measure. I woofed loudly, giving vent to wulfish laughter. She detoured by the bathroom, snagged my bathrobe off the heated towel rack and wrapped it about her naked body. With a snicker and a saucy flick of her tongue, she strode on, head held high.

 When we are alone, I will show you what I want you to do with that saucy tongue,I warned her, giving her ankles a loving nip.

 She yelped, skipped to escape the wet swipe of my tongue and fell headlong through the kitchen doorway.

 Fortrayn caught her, his arms tightened instinctively about her lush curves. Her robe flopped open and his eyes turned iridescent. Burning with lust and glowing with the amber light of change, his gaze raked hungrily over her abundant curves.

 I snarled a warning at him to release her, envious of the arms holding my mate.

 Fortrayn, disrespectful pup, took his time setting her on her feet. Muscles bulking up like a rerun of the Hulk series, his height and width grew as he began the rapid slide into mid-change.

 I saw his damn cock stiffen and start to rise, prodding the front placket of his pants and my hackles rose. Angrier than I had ever been in my life, I attacked, leaping for his throat, infuriated that another male would lustfully ogle my mate in my face.

 Melody screamed.

 Fortrayn, his change interrupted, dropped to the floor, belly up, head turned to the side. Realizing how close his bobbing cock swayed to the set of fangs ready to gnaw it off, his insulting erection shriveled and died. Slowly, as he lay motionless on the floor, awaiting my verdict, his body resumed its normal size. He had never been closer to death, and he knew it.

 Melody threw herself down beside the fool boy, reaching toward his tear-stained face. My possessive stance and menacing snarl stopped her mid-gesture.

 Back away from him, now, my bitch. Do not touch him!

 For once, she obeyed instantly and I gave thanks for her discernment. Annoyances aside, I loved my cousin. Given the choice, I would never hurt him. Had Melody put her hand on him in that moment, though, he would have been dead.

 Watching the trembling pup, waiting for him to recover, I sat on my haunches, making sure my body rested between my mate and my den-pack member.

 Get up, fool. You can thank the moon and stars your mother is beloved of my mam.

 Fortrayn rolled over onto all fours, his shaking knees hindering him from standing upright. Fear rolled off his body in a dense fog, acrid and hunger inducing. His eyes flicked up toward mine and then shied away. Keeping his head lowered, moving cautiously and making a wide circle around my mate, he crawled toward me submissively.

 Leaning into him, I licked his face, letting him know I realized his actions had not been intentional. Melody had fallen because of my teasing and no wulf this close to his change could handle a fertile Breed female without busting a boner.

 A couple of more licks and a few cousinly nips to the ears restored Fortrayn’s regular humor. Collapsing onto his scrawny butt, he waved jauntily at Melody. “Welcome to the family, Auntie. You won’t mind if I don’t offer you the kiss of peace right now, I hope.” Jerking his thumb in my direction, he lowered his voice. Pretending to a fright I could smell he no longer felt, he loudly whispered, “There’s a rabid dog in here. He has threatened to bite off something vital if I get too close to his new bone.”

 Melody chuckled and I stared at her, entranced. How had I missed that deep dimple in her left cheek?

 Hardee-har-har. How about we cut the fucking dog comments?

 “Huh?” Fortrayn looked at me, obviously questioning my sanity and rightly so.

 Among Wulfen, we bandied dog jokes about, with no one taking offense; sort of like blacks use the “N” word with each other, but woe betide those outside the group, should that word cross their minds, let alone their lips. My new sensitivity came from Melody’s as of yet unresolved issues with my Wulfen form. I didn’t want any “dog” jokes strengthening her erroneous perceptions of our species.

 Never mind, fluff-ball, it’s time to get down to business. Gerald Spenser has already come to the attention of the local police. He is a pimp who forces young teens to whore for him. He is also a major drug dealer, with South American connections and fingers in many of the city’s trouble spots. We recently learned that he is a predator-pedophile, one who enjoys anally raping pre-teen girls. He is also Melody’s murdering brother-in-law and--I bared my fangs in scorn-- has just won the nomination to be the main course of tonight’s meal.

 I Take a Backseat on Our Adventure

  

 The chauffeur being on vacation, I allowed Fortrayn, barely holding onto his skin form, to drive my stretch limo. He did so with reckless speed, taking advantage of this rare--and never to be repeated--opportunity to handle my pride and joy. Ensconced in the spacious back, I chose to ignore his insane driving and concentrated on strengthening the bonding process with Melody.

 As the car hurtled through the night, rushing us toward our destination, a silent, pensive Melody sat with her hands, stiff and cold with nerves, buried in my ruff. I rested my muzzle on my mate’s knee, brooding darkly, planning just how much I would enjoy gutting and ripping out the throat of the human animal that had emotionally mauled my mate. From her unguarded thoughts, I’d learned a whole lot more than the little she had told us about why she had been on that street corner. The knowledge had me looking forward with slavering anticipation to the upcoming meeting with Gerald Spenser.

 Fate was a strange thing. Just that afternoon, Kevin had added Spenser’s folder to my collection, declaring the man had finally exceeded all decency. A special task force had discovered what they believed to be his latest victim buried in a shallow grave, her young skull caved in, her pre-adolescent body mutilated almost beyond recognition. The details of what he had done to the child were too gruesome to share. I suspected my mate had an altogether too intimate acquaintance with the man’s depravity.

 She still hid something from me; her thoughts so used to avoiding whatever she protected, it had become a habit to direct her thoughts away from the area I wanted to penetrate. I vowed to learn the extent of her secrets before too much longer.

 The thought of Melody having once been the victim of this vicious criminal made me sick to my stomach. A boiling wrath raged inside me, violent and all consuming. Only Spenser’s lifeblood, pouring from his still beating heart, would cool it.

 On the floorboards of the vehicle, a black briefcase rested at our feet, filled with neat stacks of money. Melody had borrowed, begged and sold her last stick of furniture to gather a little over three thousand dollars. Safely tucked away in her secret hiding place, there had been no time to retrieve it before going to beard the monster in his den.

 Getting the money she needed presented no problem for me. I had plenty. I was the heir of a wealthy family. On top of that, I had a monthly stipend from the city and other government agencies that dealt with my security agency. I had a ridiculous amount of cash stashed away in every bank in this city, accessible by credit and debit cards.

 Using our telepathic link, I fed Melody the P.I.N.s to my credit and ATM cards. A few quick stops netted seven thousand dollars, more than enough to meet her requirements. If it became necessary I could use the extra money to distract Gerald’s greedy mind or bribe his henchmen into looking away long enough for me to kill the bastard.

 Beside me, Melody sat somberly, immersed in her thoughts. She turned to me and, as if privy to my own musings, shared her opinions about what to expect from Spenser.

 “He’ll accept the money, but it won’t be enough, you know. Gerald will only demand more and still more. Once he finds out you have money and are willing to spend it on me, he’ll try to bleed you dry.”

 What a coincidence. He isn’t the only one planning to bleed somebody dry.

 “What happens if it goes wrong tonight? What if he isn’t there? What if you get caught trying to kill him?”

 That is not something you need worry about, my love. I promise you, Gerald Spenser will die this night and the police will not hinder us. As for being caught, as long as he is dead…what does it matter?

 “It matters a lot to me! I don’t want you going to jail because of my problems. What was I thinking, pulling you into this? You and Fortrayn should not be caught up in this ugly mess.”

 Neither Fortrayn nor I will go to jail. Stop worrying and think of what you will feel, what you will do when the threat of this man no longer hangs over your head.

 “That’s not as easy to do as you make it sound, Hunter. For over six months, I’ve done nothing except worry and fret over what new torture my brother-in-law would devise for my…torment.”

 There. There was that flash of thought, quickly aborted. What was she hiding? Having told us of the trouble she faced, why would she hold back something that might prove vital?

 After tonight, your only worry will be how much fucking your little pussy can withstand. I have not had nearly enough of you, yet.

 “Is fucking all you think about?” Her chiding voice belied the shaking fingers spasmodically clenching in my dense fur, the sharp, sudden scent of heated juices pooling between her legs, slicking her puffy lips.

 When I am around you? Yes. I imagine I will still be thinking of fucking when I’m toppling you from your wheelchair and beating you to the ground.

 She looked at me askance. “And the funny thing is…you say that with a straight face.” She looked again and added under her breath, “As straight as doggy faces can get, anyway.”

 Shaking her head, she stroked my flanks, her fingers brushing dangerously close to my sheath. “You know, life is strange…a girl waits all her life for Prince Charming to come along, and he turns out to be a dog.”

 That’s it, young lady--

 I caught her fingertips with the edge of my teeth, worrying them without pressure. She giggled and tried to pull her hand free, swatting me away from where she lolled against the back of the car seat. In retaliation, I jumped up and maneuvered carefully in the space between the seats. Facing her and placing my paws against her shoulders, I pinned her in place, acting like the canine she teasingly persisted in calling me. Wriggling my body against her, I wagged my tail and licked her face wet, evading the hands that batted at my muzzle, trying to keep me away.

 I edged between her knees, forcing her legs apart and leaned my weight against her chest. With way over two hundred pounds of wulf lying on her, I had her well and truly trapped. Laughing and sighing, she gave up, draping her arms about my neck. I touched my muzzle to her up tilted face, indulging in some serious nose nuzzling.

 Pulling back to stare into her eyes, I told her again, how I felt, would always feel.

 I’m falling in love with you. Every inch of you is beautiful to me and I will continue to tell you so until you begin to believe me.

 I knew she didn’t entirely trust my promises yet, but she would learn. Unlike humans, a wulf loves forever…is faithful to his mate forever.

 I found it ridiculous that I should have to tell Melody repeatedly just how beautiful she was. What kind of society brainwashes its females into believing their lush bodies, designed by a Creator who had the inside track on what males liked, are ugly?

 I had often wondered it there were some inimical force in Earth’s atmosphere that foments contention and adversity, for the members of my race--whose sole claim to virtue is not being native to this rock--do not suffer from the social ills that plague humans.

 Don’t get me wrong, we had our share of in fighting and politicking, but we were, by and large, the most loyal, community-minded creatures inhabiting Earth. As I’d said, before, that probably had nothing to do with our worthiness as a race and everything to do with not being indigenous to this planet. Here’s a scary thought--if my people lived here long enough, would we begin to devolve and become more like humans? Yeck!

 Surprisingly, Melody seemed to be free of the pettiness and mean-spirited attitude that riddled humankind; she had a soft heart and a soft spot for an underdog. When the time came to present her to my parents and pack, I would do so proudly. Snuggled up to my own contrary human, I gave heartfelt thanks for finding her.

 Sometime later, Fortrayn eased the car into a shadowed alley between two abandoned warehouses, located out on the fringes of the San Francisco wharf. He lowered the privacy panel, shut the engine off and turned to face us. “We’re here.”

 We exited the car, being careful to disable the interior light and leave one of the back doors ajar. Fortrayn opened the trunk, taking out a snap-leash and collar and affixing both around my neck. He handed the leash to Melody and began to undress, tossing his clothes into the trunk.

 “Oh, what fun, Hunter! I could seriously get into leading you around on a chain! I love a man who knows his proper place.” Her chuckle died when I gave a sharp pull to the leash. The chain and collar separated, dropped to the ground and left me free. I got in her face.

 We will discuss my proper place later on tonight,I promised with a toothy grin, standing still so she could refasten my collar. While her hands deftly reattached the lead, Fortrayn divided the money in two, placing part in a canvas bag and the rest back in the briefcase, hiding the bag in the secret compartment under the middle seat. Earlier, I’d ordered Fortrayn to divvy up the money and set some aside in our hiding place. While I was fairly confident of the night’s outcome, it was possible we might become separated. I wanted Melody to have cash on hand if she needed to run.

 “Fortrayn, what in blue blazes are you doing?” Melody’s shocked whisper carried no further than the edge of the car. She gasped, wide eyes glued to my cousin’s lean, naked body. I saw her gaze drop down and heard her gasp again, obviously having caught sight of his equipment.

 “I can’t shift in clothes, Auntie. I’d get all tangled up.”

 I growled, disgruntled at her reaction. What was so gasp-able about his little pecker? Mine was bigger, as she had pussy-pleasing cause to know. Hell, time to get this show on the road before something else sidetracked her or I got mad.

 Shift to mid-change, cousin. It’s party time. Melody, once you get us in, remember to get back and stay out of the way. In fact, as soon as we confront Spenser, I want you to hightail it back to the car.

 It was a good thing we were speaking mind-to-mind, because if not, I’d have been wasting my breath. It was another good thing I was a shorthaired wulf. If my fur had been an inch longer, the look she gave me out of narrowed amber eyes would have curled it.

 “I am COMING with you. I am STAYING with you. There will be DIRE consequences if either of you attempts to accidentally or otherwise leave me behind. Do you hear me, you flea-ridden bag of fur and teeth?”

 Jeesh! I hear you, sweet bitch. There’s no need to speak in capitals and no need to call names.

 “Just so you know.” She stalked off toward the dark warehouse at the end of the pier. Hearing only her own footsteps, she stopped, swung around and peered into the night, whispering, “You guys coming?” She jumped straight up, smothering a scream when Fortrayn tapped her shoulder from behind.

 “Looking for us?” Fortrayn’s quiet laughter faded when he caught a glimpse of Melody’s pale face. He began to backpedal as she advanced on him, eyes ablaze in the moonlight, mouth tight with anger.

 “Damn it! Shit! Crap! You damned, piss ant puppy, you scared me half to death! If you ever sneak up on me like that again, I’ll twist your tail in a knot.” She punctuated every word with a pointed jab of her fingertip into his chest and arms. “And I don’t mean the one you’ll be wagging before the night’s over.”

 Thank goodness, I hadn’t given in to the temptation to startle her by nipping at her shapely heels. As it was, I enjoyed watching her lambaste the boy, but enough was enough.

 Kiddies, we have other things needing attention. Namely, ridding my mate of a nuisance and tenderizing my dinner.

 “Gee, Uncle, she’ll make a great Pack Bitch and later, Pack Prima. Is that why you chose her?”

 Never think it. Her scent lured me to her, and then her beauty knocked my world off kilter. Her Alpha skills are pure luck, Fortrayn…an added bonus.

 Fortrayn slowly shook his head, his jealousy a thick musk on the early morning air. His glowing eyes, trained on my mate’s retreating form, tracked up and down the length of her well-rounded, bouncing body. With a rueful shrug and a long, drawn out sigh, he met my watchful gaze. “You are one lucky dog.”

  

 I’ll Have Mine with Sauce

  

 Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. This one looked like a very handsome black male of about forty years of age. Lean and muscular, dressed in an expensive, dark brown double-breasted suit jacket worn over a pair of cream slacks, Gerald Spenser sat at his wide wooden desk, busy scribbling in a journal. He didn’t raise his head at Melody’s entrance.

 “You bring my money, bitch?”

 Earlier this evening, I had told Melody the word ‘bitch’ carried honor and status among my kind. Hearing it spat from this man’s lips made my ruff stand up. My lips peeled back from my fangs and a snarl trickled from my muzzle. Cautioning myself to be patient, I stood stiffly by Melody’s side. This man would soon pay dearly for his disrespect.

 “I have the money, Gerald,” she replied, her words clipped. She swung the briefcase up onto the desk, snapped it open and spun it around to display the neat stacks of twenty-dollar bills. “Do you have…what you promised me?”

 The man lifted his head, inspected the money and smiled. Glassy black eyes glittering, his pupils huge and unfocused--telling me he had recently indulged in a little private sampling of his illegal wares--he nodded. “Right here on the property, little mama. Did you tell anyone?”

 “No. I’ve told no one. Since you made it a condition of not chopping off any more body parts, I took you at your word, such as it is.”

 The smile slid off his face and he made a moue of disgust. “I’ll be glad to finally be rid of the thing. It’s been nothing but trouble around here. None of my bitches want to take time off the streets to watch it.”

 “Let me see him.”

 “Sure, why not?” Swiveling his chair to face the bookcase behind his desk, Spenser picked up a remote and pointed it at the small television monitor on the second shelf. “Closed circuit cable to a remote location,” his knowing smile raised my hackles, “and once I have the rest of the money, I’ll tell you the location. You can go pick up the baby and everything will be cool.”

 “It’s all there…all twenty-five hundred dollars. What more are you talking about?” Melody sounded confused.

 “I’m talking about what I’m charging you for keeping your brat in babysitters. Quality care don’t come cheap, you know.”

 “Why you--” Her complaint broke off in mid cry as her eyes became glued to the television monitor.

 On the screen, a thin female, looking more like a lost little girl, sat holding a little baby boy. The tiny black child appeared wizened and pale with hardly any flesh to its bones. A thin, hungry wail leaked from its mouth in a wordless monotonous plea for comfort and nourishment.

 “He’s so thin! Gerald, you promised--” A sobbing gasp escaped her before she gathered control about her like a suit of armor and turned her accusing stare on her brother-in-law. “You haven’t been feeding him.”

 Gerald swung back around to sneer in Melody’s face. “Bitch, do I look like I’ve got titties? I bought milk. All the damned thing does is scream and shit, scream and shit. I’m bout ready to snuff it. You better have another grand in there, cause I ain’t giving no second chances.”

 “Neither am I.” Her voice a snarling rasp, she slid the loop of my leash off her wrist, snagged the chain of the tiny red purse dangling from her shoulder and brought it to her chest. With a quiet snick, the catch came loose and without looking down, she drew out a small cellophane envelope containing what looked to be a dried cylindrical tube and laid it on Spenser’s desk. “You never planned to give him back, did you?”

 My guts slid sideways as I got a good look at the article and realized it was the miniscule finger of Melody’s baby. Shock snatched my legs out from underneath me and I dropped to my haunches, sickened beyond measure. Mind racing, recalling the moment under the restaurant table when I had caught a whiff of an unrecognizable scent, I howled soundlessly, heart hurting for my mate. Even through the plastic, I could smell the scent that identified the small scrap of flesh to be of Melody’s blood and bone.

 Mother’s milkhad been the elusive fragrance I’d smelled while under the table. The scent had been faint, unexpected, but there. She should have told me, no matter what Spenser threatened. She should have known I would never allow anything else to happen to her son.

 Eyes burning with an otherworldly glow, focused on the creature that had torn my mate’s child from her arms, I let the anger build in me, knowing it would soon rage out of control. Determined to execute this--for want of a better word, man--slowly, I flashed an outraged message to Fortrayn.

 He has been holding Melody’s pup to force her to his will. The little one is mutilated. Find our pup--they are keeping him in a nearby building--then let no one escape. Kill them all.

 Spenser leaned back in his chair, set it swiveling from side to side. His face carved in an expression of pure evil, his lips curved in a smile all the more chilling because it looked so innocent. “The bitch finally catches on. I thought you never would.”

 He gave a huffing laugh, and twirled a pen between his fingers, flexing it smoothly so that it looked like it was made of rubber. “I mean, you’ve never figured out I snuffed your do-gooder husband, did you?”

 He brought his chair upright. “Do I got to tell you everything, you dumb-assed broad?”

 Before Melody could answer, a distant howl, eerie and soul-chilling sang on the air. Enraged as only a wulf could become over the harm to an innocent pup, Fortrayn reacted to the mental images I relayed of that tiny, severed finger, preserved in a shrink-wrapped covering. Out in the night, screams of pain mingled with shouts of terror rose on the air. Gunshots rang out. Men began to die.

 There was nothing subtle about the sudden cacophony. Gerald rushed to his feet, head jerking to the left and right, eyes wild and panicked as the sounds of grisly dismemberment and bloody death began to penetrate the thin walls of the warehouse. “What the hell’s going on? What is all that fucking noise?”

 Leaning over his desk, her face shoved close to his, fists planted beside the small package, Melody spoke through gritted teeth. “It is the sound of retribution, Gerald.”

 Insanity swam in the eyes he turned on my mate. “Bitch, you goddamn ungrateful whore…what the fuck have you done?”

 “Why, I did everything you instructed, Gerald. I gathered all my savings and it wasn’t enough. I sold my house and that still wouldn’t satisfy you. I borrowed from my husband’s friends to pay the ransom you demanded, and later came begging for my son’s life. In response, you sent me this.” She gripped the little detached digit, fingers unconsciously gentle on the package holding her baby’s flesh.

 When she looked back up at him, her amber eyes glinted with hatred, glowing almost as much as mine while in the midst of changing. “Only a madman would torture his own nephew. Madmen should be destroyed, put down like rabid dogs, don’t you think?”

 He stepped away from the desk, hand reaching under the side, fingers scrabbling for his gun or, perhaps, a security button. A snarl from me had him jumping and throwing a nervous glance in my direction.

 “Take care to keep your hands above the desk.” Melody stroked my head. “He bites when he gets nervous. Er…that is to say, when I get nervous.”

 “I let you live, you stupid bitch. I could have killed you when I killed that mealy-mouthed brother of mine. It would have been easy. You weren’t but a month back from the hospital, still weak as a syphilis whore. I heard your pathetic mewling from upstairs. ‘Roland, Roland who is it? What’s happening? Are you all right?’ I laughed at you, ignorant bitch. Hell yeah, he was all right and tight dead! Ha--ha, dead as a doornail!”

 “You left my child and me destitute. The insurance company wouldn’t pay on his policy because you made his death look like a suicide. Then you came slithering back, demanding money I didn’t have, talking crazy nonsense about some treasure you claimed Roland had bragged about.”

 “He had it, all right. I know he did. No one brags like that unless it’s true. If you didn’t know about it, he was probably tired of your fat ass and fucking some slim bitch on the side, sharing the money with her.”

 She ignored his slur about her weight, obviously focused on other things. “The word ‘unfaithful’ wasn’t in Roland’s vocabulary. He didn’t know how to spell it, let alone practice it. What could he possibly have told you, Gerald, to make you believe he had access to that kind of money?”

 “He claimed he had a treasure worth more than all the wealth in San Francisco, claimed I’d never be able to possess it because I could never find it.”

 Silence ruled for the space of a minute and then Melody laughed. And then kept on laughing, gales of it, tinged with hysteria. Suddenly, she stopped laughing to scream, “You stupid, ignorant, crazy asshole, you killed your own brother, kidnapped my son and your only nephew for ransom…all for nothing.”

 “No, I didn’t.”

 “Iwas his treasure! Me! My child and I were his treasure!” She began to sob as she shouted at him, the tears flooding down her face, clogging her voice. “You…you…you… fucker!You destroyed my family looking for something we never had. We were poor as church mice, all our extra money going to help the destitute members of Roland’s little congregation. I only stopped working when I began to really show because a pregnant nightclub singer just isn’t sexy enough to bring in the dough like--”

 Melody’s tears choked her. Her breasts rising on a deep breath, she regarded her brother-in-law with disgust, shaking her head side to side. “Well, at least now I know why you did what you did. And I feel totally justified in leaving you to your fate.”

 “You still don’t know anything, damn fucking whore.” Spenser spat across the desk, a gobbet of spittle landing on Melody’s chest. The icy calm of the very insane frosted the air as he used his sibilant words to bombard my mate. He leaned against the desk, nonchalantly crossed his legs and continued his conversation while his henchmen fell to Fortrayn’s fury.

 “Oh, I never believed that sorry-assed story about a treasure, but I’ve repeated it enough to cop to an insanity plea if I ever get caught out. I would only spend, what, four--five years at the most in Atascadero. Medical breakthroughs happen all the time. I’ll wait it out, pretend I’m cured and be out like that.” He snapped his fingers.

 “Why did you let me live? Why didn’t you just kill me when you killed Roland?”

 He shrugged. “I wanted you to suffer. It was your fault my own brother turned against me and had me thrown in prison. You were my bitch-whore. I had just started to make good money off you when he came along, gazed into your puppy dog eyes and went all marshmallowy. Besides, I wanted to see your face when I did this--”

 Flicking a switch on the remote, he bent down and spoke into what had to be a built-in microphone. “Kill the little bastard!”

 The screen went black.

 “No! Nonononononono!” Melody screamed. Swinging her purse up, she fired through the sequined side, not taking the time to clear her little revolver from the clutch. The bullet hit Spenser high in the shoulder--a wound, not a killing shot.

 Spenser shouted. Moaning, he slumped against the desk, eyes feverish with hate. Glaring at Melody, he spat, “You’re gonna pay for that, bitch!”

 Melody ignored him, dropped her purse, along with the concealed gun and fell to her knees. Arms wrapped tight about her waist, she rocked and moaned, lost in grief.

 I was the only one not taken by surprise when Fortrayn shouldered the office door open, having smelled his approach. Spenser and Melody both turned toward the entry where a hulking Fortrayn stood in the open portal, fur matted with blood and gore, clawed hands marked and dripping with crimson fluid. Through a stained muzzle, he grinned, sporting sharp, curved fangs, one of them trailing a bit of red, stringy meat. In his arms, nestled calm and quiet, was a blanket-wrapped infant.

 “Auntie…this…yours.” He held out his arms, offering the child to her. He turned his head and grinned at me. “Am gorged…can change now?” His gruff, low rumbling growl of a voice vibrated the cheap wooden floorboards.

 Face transformed with laughter, Melody jumped up and rushed over to him, snatching her child from his arms to clutch the babe to her breast. I had thought her lovely, beautiful before. Now she shone, her sadness transmuted to joy. “Oh, Fortrayn, thank you, thank you!”

 Hands shaking, she impatiently unfolded the blanket, frantically examining each limb and dropped a commiserating kiss on the one little fingerless stump. Brushing a tender finger over the little face turned up to hers, she murmured assurances of love. Tears dripped unashamed as she turned to me, crying, voice shaking, “Hunter, he is so filthy…and I can almost see his little ribs. He’s been so neglected and starved--”

 He’s a strong little tyke, like his mother. We will finish here, take our pup home and get him cleaned up. You can get food into him. Stay focused, beloved. We must deal with Spenser so he will never bother you and yours, again.

 Glancing up from her closely held bundle, she eyed Spenser, her gaze gone cold and deadly. “Gerald, you don’t know my new nephew, Fortrayn. He’s a werewolf.” She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Wow! I just had a thought. Since we are semi-related, I guess that makes him your nephew, too. I’m sure you two will want to get better acquainted.” She smiled. “Say hello, Fortrayn.”

 My cousin, always the show off, flung out his arms, threw back his head and roared.

 Gerald staggered backward, tripped and fell into his chair, a smothered gurgle rattling in his throat. He clutched his injured arm, the scent of blood and fear burst from his pores in an oily gush that coated his goose-bumped flesh in the most fragrant of sauces. My stomach growled.

 “Auntie, bring pup.”

 “Yes. We’re coming, Fortrayn.” A new flood of tears washed her cheeks. “Oh, dear, how remiss of me,” she said, scooping up the envelope that held her son’s fingertip and slipped it into the briefcase, spinning the locks before handing it to Fortrayn. “Gerald, I rudely forgot to introduce you to my new fiancé, Hunter. He’s Fortrayn’s cousin. He is a werewolf, too. I hope you don’t mind that I invited him over to dinner?”

 Spenser swung his head in my direction, eyes bulged. I smiled at him, showed all my fangs and let him read his death in my eyes. His bladder released and the sharp, acrid smell of piss rose in a miasmic cloud about him.

 Nostrils crinkling in distaste, Fortrayn sniffed, grimaced. “Uncle no…eat. Meat smells…bad…good parts outside.”

 With a chilling smirk, Melody patted Fortrayn’s arm with one hand, her other curled about her son. She turned back to look at me, her eyes fierce and implacable. “Hunter, as long as you are not really going to eat him, I guess it is okay to play with your food this once.”

 Leave, woman. Now.

 The expression in her eyes cooled as she met the frightened eyes of her soon to be late brother-in-law.

 Spenser half-stood, hurriedly sank back down at my warning snarl. “Melody, I…you can’t leave me to…” His eyes, pupils dilated with horror, cut over toward me. “Please, I let you live!”

 “You never let me live, Gerald. I’ve been dying since I met you. I died a little the night you raped me in the ass, telling me it was my fault. I died the day I put my husband in the grave. I’ve died every day for the last four months, missing my son. You lucky bastard, you only have to die once.”

 Face contorting in rage, the man sneered at her. “My other men will be here, soon. They’ll take care of you and your monster freaks. I’m gonna kill you with my bare hands, you goddamned bitch-whore. You’re gonna regret the day you met me.”

 “Oh, I regretted meeting you five seconds after you said, ‘Well, well, what do we have here?’ Goodbye, Gerald.”

 She eased the door closed behind her.

 Fortrayn had it half right. Spenser smelled of bad meat and rank urine, but his heart tasted just fine.

  

 I Take a Bite Out of Fatherhood. It Bites Back

  

 “How can you ask me to allow this? He’s been through so much. You will frighten him, Hunter, and he’ll be afraid of you forever.”

 I tried to be patient. No, he won’t. Haven’t I proved you can trust me? You’ll just have to trust me a little bit more. I have to do this, sweet bitch. He can never travel with us into pack lands, otherwise.

 “Why do you have to do it now? Can’t it wait?” She clutched the babe to her, eyes wary as they rested on me. “Just until he gets a little stronger.”

 I must do it tonight, Melody, while I still wear fur. The enzymes in my saliva are strongest during the full moon. The bite won’t hurt him much and as well as marking him as pack, there will be added immediate benefits.

 “What kind of benefits?”

 He is Breed, like you, for the modified wulf gene is dominant and most commonly passed through the mother. Therefore, also like you, once he partakes of my genetic material, he will become harder to hurt, more difficult to kill. He will heal quickly and most importantly, I will be able to communicate with him along our telepathic bond.

 “You promise it won’t hurt him? Blair has suffered so much.”

 We’ve just spent the night rescuing your babe. Do you think I would willingly hurt him?

 I sighed, realizing I was dealing with a woman suffering from frustrated motherhood. Like a she bear, she would face down any perceived threat to her young. I looked forward to her taking the identical stance with the pups I planned on giving her…hoped I had already given her.

 I couldn’t blame her. Little Blair had suffered greatly. Six months old when kidnapped, he had spent the last four months neglected and starved, hungry for affection as much as for food. He was dangerously underweight, resembling a five or six-month-old rather than the ten-month-old he really was. The first thing on my agenda--after biting him--was to get some nourishment in him.

 What I am offering is fatherhood. I will stand in the place of your child’s father, be his father, if you will allow me. After tonight, Blair will be my son in all ways, even to an equal share in my inheritance. I will love and protect him as I have vowed to love and protect you. Anyone seeking his harm will have to come through me and mine. I will lay down my life for him, if necessary, for both of you. All you have to do is trust me. Whatever your decision, you must choose quickly, my lovely bitch. I sense the waxing of the moon.

 Her lips quirked in a half smile. “I love hearing that word on your lips. Tonight illustrated the vast difference between how you say it and how Gerald always used it.”

 Kneeling, she laid the baby on the faux fur rug before the fireplace, shushing him as he fretted over losing the warmth of her arms. “Okay, but make it quick.”

 Thank you for your trust. I will never betray it.

 “I know you won’t. You are very much like Blair’s birth father in that respect.”

 I never thought I would feel honored to have her compare me to a dirt monkey. Shows you learn something every day.

 We need to make this look like a birthmark. The best place to situate it will be on his buttocks. Which cheek do you want me to mark?

 “Why do you insist on asking me questions I have no way of answering?” She didn’t look up, busily removing the baby’s clothing. When the tyke lay on the rug, bare-butt naked and propped in the air, she moved aside, allowing me close to her precious bundle--my bundle now, also--her agitated thoughts like a thousand buzzing bees in my head.

 I had no wish to drag the procedure out. Despite her verbal avowals of trust, I knew Melody remained disturbed. I lowered my muzzle to Blair’s left cheek and bit down, carefully removing a bit of his baby-soft, enormously tasty skin.

 No, before you ask,I informed Melody, our councils do not condone the eating of infants and yes, just like calf’s liver, infants have the tenderest, most succulent flesh. Just as human hunters draw the line at killing Bambi before he grows his racks, we draw the line at premature eating. Baby-killers we execute without fail.

 Enough said. We were talking about my son. The only person that would ever sink fangs in him again--and live--would be his mate, should he decide to take a wulf bitch to bride. I licked his bite mark. My saliva invaded and sealed the wound, promoted quick healing and imparted my DNA.

 Hey, Blair, hello, my little pup! Listen and know the voice of your daddy--

 Daddy, Blair cold.

 “Oh, my God, I heard him, Hunter. I heard my baby’s thoughts!” Tears dripped from her eyes as Melody gently turned our baby over, cradling his head on her forearm.

 I leaned over to inspect my new son. He had two eyes, the same golden brown as his mother’s. His arms and feet were spindly, all too scrawny for a ten-month-old infant. We--his mother and I--would take care of getting his weight up to par. Meanwhile, he needed food and sleep. It had been a long night for all of us.

 Daddy, Blaircold!

 I hear you, little pup. Mam will--

 A hot stream of piss shot from Blair’s tiny erect penis, splashing in my eyes before reflex cut in and I snapped them shut. Howling at the indignity, I batted at my face with my paws, shaking my head to get rid of the stinging liquid. That didn’t work very well and I rolled my face on the rug, trying to scrape the stuff off.

 Melody fell over, laughing so hard I thought she would injure herself. Still laughing, she recovered enough to dig a diaper out of the bag Fortrayn had taken from the baby’s keeper. He had disobeyed my orders to kill everyone and had allowed the girl to live. After he told us her story, I couldn’t fault his decision.

 Only thirteen, the girl had been a runaway, captured by Gerald and forced into prostitution, much as had happened to Melody all those years ago. Beaten and abused, believing he would kill her for it, she’d still found the courage not to carry out Gerald’s last, insane command.

 Melody giggled now, happy as a child herself, as if the tragic events of her past had never happened. I vowed to keep her that way.

 Securing the diaper about our son’s lean hips, she glanced up and winked. “I guess Blair felt he needed to do some marking of his own. Welcome to our family, Hunter.”

  

 Melody Gets Wet and I Cum Clean

  

 The moon released her hold on me while Melody, finished with feeding Blair, prepared him for bed. Facing away from me, she didn’t see me stand up, stretch and knuckle at my eyes that still stung from my son’s urine.

 “I’m going to shower before coming to bed. Wait up for me?”

 “Oh!” Melody turned, almost dropped the baby when she caught sight of me. I rushed to catch him, cuddled him against my chest as I steadied her on her feet.

 “My God, Hunter, you’re back.” Her eyes lit up. Licking her lips, she locked her gaze on my quiescent cock. Under her interested look, it didn’t stay quiescent for long. Hardening and lengthening, Buford rose in salute.

 I smiled. “Somebody’s glad to see you.”

 She looked at the babe but didn’t reach to take him out of my arms. Instead, she palmed the head of my cock and gave it a firm squeeze. “Let’s get Blair to bed so I can say a proper ‘hello’ to Buford.”

 Cock jumping in her grasp, I chuckled, eased her hand off me and headed for the study, where we had rigged a makeshift cradle. “I’ll settle for an improper greeting if I can entice you into sucking my dick like you did earlier,” I told her with a wink and a loving leer, handing over our sleepy pup.

 Her tongue came out, swiped her lips before retreating into her mouth. I heard her breathing kick into high gear as she bent over to place the boy in the blanket and towel stuffed drawer, tucking him in tightly. That wiggle she gave was unnecessary since she always had my undivided attention. Before she straightened up, Blair had drifted off to sleep.

 My hand slid down the curve of her round ass, fingers dug into one dimpled cheek. She pushed back against my hand and I stepped closer, trapping my cock between us. I bit my lip, forcing back a scream. I wanted her badly, immediately.

 I backed off her, grimacing as our skin separated, already feeling lonely without her flesh connected to mine. “Damn, I’ll have to jack off in the shower to take the edge off. I have a powerful hunger for you, lovely bitch, which will take more than one session to appease.”

 Glancing at me from under her lashes, she walked beside me to our bedroom. “Can I…do you mind if I shower with you?”

 I turned from the closet, one arm loaded with towels and a washcloth. Without a word, I grabbed another towel, an anticipatory grin stretching my lips. “You know what will happen if you climb into that shower with me, right?”

 My eyes flashed to where her breasts heaved, her agitated breathing causing her tits to quake. “I’ll have you wet and coming before the soap gets lathered good.”

 Her gaze skittered over my body then away…then back down to where Buford eagerly bobbed, salivating for another chance at being surrounded by her snug heat.

 “I’ve had this one fantasy forever. I’m making love in the shower, being taken hard, against a wet wall with warm water cascading over me.” She lifted her eyes to mine and I saw the fevered heat in them. “I’m with the man of my dreams.”

 She wanted that shower scene and I wanted to give it to her. Still, this close from the change, my lust was a powerful entity that needed handling with kid gloves. She wanted vanilla sex and I needed chocolate.

 “If I give you what you want, will you let me have your ass?”

 Her breathing escalated.

 “I smell your heat. You just dampened your panties, so don’t try to pretend you aren’t turned on by my suggestion.”

 Melody sat on the edge of the bed and began taking off her clothes, her words measured and spoken without heat. “Gerald forcibly sodomized me when he found me huddled in an alley, a fourteen-year-old runaway. Afterward, I felt so filthy and dirty that I believed him when he told me I was only fit for the streets. I prostituted for him for three years. Then I met Roland, who had returned to town, fresh out of seminary. He found out what Gerald had been doing and turned him in to the police. They arrested him; put him in jail for ten years.

 “Roland took me and a few others of Gerald’s victims and cared for us, reunited us with our families. He even helped those without family--like me--complete their high-school education. I hero-worshipped him, because he rescued me from hell. As soon as I turned eighteen, he asked me to marry him and I did. We tried to have children for nine years. During that time, he never once licked my pussy or sucked my clit, something I had grown used to and liked. Lots of johns like going down on poontang. In contrast, our married sex was so tame it should have been rated ‘G’. And now you ask me to let you have my ass.”

 Her words killed my ardor. Buford drooped and I wanted to kill that bastard, again. I regretted not playing longer with his sorry ass. Setting the towels down, I pulled her into my arms, offering comfort, rocking her against me in silent communication.

 As we walked into the bathroom, I tried to soothe her, not caring to see her so agitated. “Thank you for telling me your story. I will not lie to you…I want your big, fine beautiful ass with a hunger that will never die, but I also love you. I will take what you can willingly give, and find satisfaction.”

 She paused and turned to me. Her soft hand covered my mouth, hushing my confused ramblings. Her next words gave me a pleasant shock.

 “I wasn’t finished, hon.”

 She stood before me, unashamedly naked, her full breasts tipped with stiff, candied nipples. I ached to suckle them into the heat of my mouth, to roll their hardness on the surface of my tongue. Softly rounded all over, she made my mouth water and my balls tingle. Her belly pooched out just a little, a perfect pillow for a wulf’s head, as I had proved when I lolled against her in full fur.

 “Everything you have done with me has been phenomenal, different beyond comparison. I have never wanted to give a man a blow-job, yet I went down on you and found I loved the taste of your cock.” She laughed a little. “You’ll never have to bribe me to suck your cock. You might have to beat me about the head to pry me off.”

 “Never!”

 “What I’m trying to say, Hunter, is that I am falling in love with you and if you want my ass, it is yours. All of me, whichever part you want. I’m yours. Not because you came to my rescue; I had, believe it or not, made plans to rescue myself.”

 I growled. “Don’t remind me. We are going to have a discussion about going off half-cocked relying on an asinine, half-baked plan doomed to failure.”

 “Forget that, we’re home safe and sound so why worry about it?”

 “Why worry…? How about, because I--”

 She placed a hand over my mouth and smiled. “Let me finish?”

 I subsided with a put-upon sigh. I could see I would never be able to deny her anything.

 “I am yours because my soul recognizes you. You are the one who should have found me all those years ago, not Roland. I will be forever grateful he did, for he gave me Blair, but he wasn’t you. I never loved him like he deserved because though I didn’t know it, I never stopped looking for you.”

 “You’ll make me cry,” I warned, moved and very close to tears.

 “I’d rather make you scream,” she teased as she snuggled into my embrace and palmed my cock.

 Tucking her under my shoulder, I led her over to the shower stall, leaned in and turned on the water. I reached for her hand. “How about we both do a little screaming, sweet bitch?”

 Melody took my hand and stepped into the double shower stall. Immediately yelping, she jumped back, shivering. “Cold!”

 Laughing gently, I adjusted the heat and the spray, aiming the stream of water so it cascaded down on us in a gentle fall of warmth. “Better?”

 I held out my arms and she came to me, rubbing her chilled breasts against the wall of my chest. My big hands chafed her arms and belly, sides and back, working with the water to take the chill off her flesh.

 Once I had her warmed up, I took her lips and she took mine. As usual, whenever we touched, the world spun away, leaving only the two of us, burning brightly, our growing commitment a flame in the darkness.

 Backing her into the spray, I sluiced her skin, scooping the water over her lush curves. Cupping and molding handfuls of her springy flesh, I ran my thumbs over her nipples, catching the hardened tips between my thumb and finger. I gave them a gentle squeeze.

 She threw her head back, surrendering to me so sweetly. “Oh, yes, Hunter…touch me…I love it when you put your hands on me.”

 “How do you feel about my tongue? Where do you want me to put it?”

 “Lick my nipples…bite them!”

 I stepped back a bit, my hands continuing to plump and pinch, smooth and stroke. “Offer them to me. Lift those chocolate kisses to my mouth.”

 She did as I asked. Slipping her hands beneath the bounty of one large mound, she lifted it toward me, moaning a little as I simply looked at it, gazing my fill on her wonderful excess.

 Unable to stand the anticipation longer, I swooped down, covering the thick little button with my mouth. She hardened further against my tongue and I bit down on the tidbit, sucking it deep into my mouth. I drew hard on her while my hands slid down her flanks to grip her hips, fingers sinking into the deep crevice of her ass. I switched breasts, pulled her other nipple between my lips and suckled like a hungry pup at his mam’s teat.

 Letting the nipple pop out of my mouth, I gulped for air. My breathing hitched as I hauled her close, rubbing her cushiony belly against my stiff erection. My bulbous head, swollen and sensitive, butted against her soft body. I rocked into her, pushing my cock against the tiny cave of her belly button. Pre-cum dripped from the slit in the crown, falling to her stomach. I ground my hips in a circular motion, working it into her skin.

 I leaned into her, pressing her up against the side of the shower stall. My heavy weight flattened her breasts against my heaving chest. Gripping her ass cheeks, I lifted her off her feet, holding her off the floor as I moved between her legs.

 Water cascaded down on us, drenching us, wetting and warming us as it made our bodies slip and slide against each other.

 She draped her legs around my hips, shoulders pressed to the wall, breasts mouth height. My hands tightened on her bottom, the fingers of one hand boldly exploring the area, finding a slick sheeting of silky fluid coating her from clit to crack. I trailed the liquid heat back to its source, dipping a finger between her swollen lips to stroke her clit. Her stomach muscles jumped and she dropped her head against me, moaning into my chest, her hands clutched my arms as I sank two fingers into her sweltering pussy. Bottom muscles flexing in my hands, she propelled her cunt up my fingers.

 Her pussy was tight, hot and so wet, saturated with creamy honey. My mouth watered, imagining how sticky and sweet her juices would taste, wanting her strong flavor rushing across my tongue and down my throat.

 “Your skin is like smooth fudge, soft and creamy and sweet. I love it when you melt in my hands. I love it more when you melt in my mouth. Will you do that for me, sweet bitch? Will you melt in my mouth?”

 “Please, Hunter… please!”Her voice shook. She looked up at me, eyes wide, her pupils dilated. The light of lust, of overwhelming need shone in them.

 “I want to please, you, Melody. All you need to do is tell me what you want. What does my beautiful bitch want me to do to her?”

 “I need…”

 “Yes?”

 “I want…”

 “Go on…what do you want?”

 “I want you… between my legs, hard and long and hot.”

 “Then ride my thigh.” I teased her, knowing full well she meant something far different. Shifting her about until her pussy rested on the broad surface of my upper leg, I slid her back and forth, hands gripping her waist. Each downward lunge placed pressure against her clit, raising her arousal to fever pitch.

 Her solid thighs clenched my leg, squeezing hard as her pussy lips fluttered against my skin. I could feel her inner muscles contracting, trying to grip my flesh. Her cry of despair told me she needed more than my thigh between her legs.

 “What else do you want, baby? What more do you need?”

 She moaned, head thrashing back and forth against the water-slicked wall, nipples jutting out hard and high, glistening with my saliva and the steamy drops of water from the showerhead’s gentle spray. “Fuck me. Put your cock in me and ride me hard, make me come.”

 I slid her down my thigh for the last time, turned her to the wall and ran my hands from shoulder to ass, smoothing and petting everything in between. With a sure touch, I eased her full cheeks apart, dropped to my knees to bury my face against her tight anal opening. Testing her willingness, I pushed my tongue just past the clenched sphincter, pulled back and rimmed her tiny entrance.

 I could take her, here, take this tiny asshole. She’d given me permission, carte blanche to have her, whichever way I wanted. I could slide my cock up this dark, secret tunnel and let her squeeze me into oblivion and make her like it, too.

 With loving reluctance, I backed up from her tense body. She would allow me any act I chose, yet as her mate, I knew she was not ready--not emotionally. Though her healing had begun, it was not complete. Tonight, I would concentrate on her fantasy, alone. She had already fulfilled mine.

 Turning her back around, I kissed her deeply, tangling my tongue with hers. I took her lips with single-minded hunger. Sliding two fingers into her hot cunt, I pumped them up in her as I ate at her lush mouth.

 I wanted more than her mewling cries, her avid participation. I wanted her total acceptance. My beast rode me, snatching control so I barely got my question out. “Will you take me mid-change?”

 “Yes, oh God, yes, I’ll take you! Change now!” she ordered, squirming with excitement, her little pussy gushing cream around my pistoning fingers.

 Instantly, my body bulked up, muscles and sinew increasing, cock lengthening and thickening as I smoothly obtained the massive form of mid-change.

 Growling, I raked her breasts and nipples with my fangs, nipping hard enough to sting. She screamed, face buried in the fur of my chest, arms clasped about my huge neck. She felt like a fragile butterfly, clinging to me with arms and legs clasped as far about my body as they could reach.

 My enhanced sense of smell brought the fragrant aroma of her pussy to my nostrils, driving me almost insane with the need to bury my tongue in her honeyed depths and lick out her sweetness. I simply lifted her straight up the wall until her mound hung before my mouth. Supporting her bottom in both hands, I dove into her sweet slit. My tongue, relentlessly forging in and out of her clasping depths, curled up to stroke the sensitive spot at the inner front of her pussy.

 With a shout, her torso fell forward over my shoulders. Melody shuddered around me, her panting breaths warming my ear and neck. I stroked one clawed hand down her back, lightly scoring her flesh, bringing the blood to the surface and rendered her skin much more responsive to my touch. I smiled as she bucked against my mouth, helping me impale her pussy on my thrusting tongue.

 Lowering her, I carefully inserted the tip of my penis, pressing steadily in as she moaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Too large in mid-change to enter her quickly, I slowly surged inward, my claws at her hips, holding her captive to my relentless advance. Thankful beyond expression, I knew she could take me and sustain no lasting hurt from my massive size. Her pussy was perfect. Elastic and tight, it was designed just for me. No matter what shape I took, she would glove me with the tightness all wulves craved for a good fuck.

 She widened her thighs and canted her hips, positioning her pussy to take more of me. “Ooooh, lover, yes…fuck me! Fuck my poontang…fill me up with your huge, hard cock!”

 With an inch to spare, I butted against her cervix. Pulling out, I slid back in, my passage made easy by the slippery substance of her hot dew and my viscous pre-cum. I pumped in and out of her sweet, hot slit, setting up a smooth, easy rhythm I could maintain all night long if need be, raising and lowering her on my enormous erection.

 “Oh, Hunter, you’re so big! I’ve never before been stretched so wide.”

 I will never stop filling you…stretching you. By the Moon, you are tight and hot around me, scalding my cock. Grip me, sweet bitch--let me feel you loving me back.

 I dipped my head to where her shoulder met her neck, tonguing the mating mark I’d set in her flesh. Electricity zinged through me and I felt the echo of the mark’s response race along Melody’s body.

 “Take me…in fur?”

 Her body stilled for a moment.

 Would she deny me? Had she forgotten her earlier promise?

 Hanging suspended on my cock, she slid up my shaft, bringing her body flush with mine. “I will take you into my body, my mate, my lover…any time and any way.”

 Heart bursting with the evidence of her surrender, I shed my mid-change shape, taking on skin.

 “Thank you, but not tonight, beloved. Tonight belongs to you. The morning will be a different story.”

 Clasping her hips, I held her against the wall, slamming my cock into her, driving high and hard in her, giving her the fantasy of her imaginings. Tongue rimming the canal of her ear, cock pounding into her tight, wet heat, I whispered what I would do to her later, how I would take her.

 “As the sun rises…in our bed…in morning’s light so nothing is hidden between us…I’ll take on fur and crawl between your legs. I’ll lick your pussy with my long, rough tongue, nibble your labia and clit forever. Turning you over, I’ll mount you from behind and fuck you until my knot forms, locking us together. When the knot melts away, I’ll take you in mid-change and pound your little cunt into oblivion until I come in you, filling you with my seed. I can’t wait for your cute belly to round out with my pups.”

 She came with a loud shout, raining her hot juices down on my cock, strong inner muscles clamped around my shaft and head, squeezing me into oblivion. The convulsions of her peaking triggered my own explosion. Balls churning, burning as they drew up tight to the base of my cock, I locked my knees, slammed into my bitch one last time, using that last inch to enter the hallowed opening of her cervix. My knot formed, swelling the base of my cock, locking our bodies together as my seed fountained out, a geyser of life erupting in her womb. With a deafening roar, I rocked my hips against her, as gush after gush of sperm raced up my shaft and shot into her spasming pussy.

 Too weak to keep to my feet, I collapsed to the floor of the shower, careful not to crush my mate beneath me. Water rained down on us, washing away the musk of our lovemaking, gentle and soft as spring showers on our spent bodies. We lay there for a long time, basking in the closeness of a mated pair.

 Finally regaining enough strength to rise, I gathered a drowsy Melody up and carried her from the bathroom. Standing her swaying form beside the bed, I gently toweled her dry, and then carefully tucked her under the jade green comforter gracing our California king-sized bed. Before joining her under the covers, I performed a last check of the apartment, double-checking to ensure I’d locked all the doors and windows. The habits of security died hard.

 To my surprise, the living room, kitchen and surrounding areas were spotless. Fortrayn must have cleaned them while Melody and I were engaged in our marathon bout of shower sex.

 Well, I’ll be damned if the little slob isn’t growing up.

 I peeked into his room to see him sprawled across the top of his covers, snoring heavily, hand clasped around his deflated cock. His belly was splattered with a pool of his spent cum. Poor pup. Listening to our lovemaking must have spurred him to heights of fantasy. He would be resorting to pocket pool a lot if he planned to continue living here. Speaking of which, I’d better run that by Melody. She might not care to have anyone staying with us during this transitional period. Although, knowing her soft heart--and I was learning more about that every minute--she probably wouldn’t hear of chasing Fortrayn out. Well, plenty time to deal with that later. For now, I wanted nothing more than to rest beside my mate, my arms and body wrapped around her generous, welcoming curves. Closing his door, I moved on down the hall to check on Blair.

 He slept restlessly, wriggling his little bottom high in the air, tiny fist stuffed in his mouth as if, even in sleep, he sought the comfort of holding onto something. I stared down at him, marveling that he should have moved into my heart and affections so precipitously. But then, why not? His mother had done the same thing. I could no longer imagine life without either one of them.

 A sleepy whimper drew me from my introspection and I glanced down to see Blair looking at me out of huge, sherry-colored eyes.

 Daddy.

 Son.

 Blair scared.

 And what the hell was I supposed to do? I could fight a physical enemy, hold back a physical threat, but I didn’t know how to chase night-demons away from my son. This called for an expert.

 Let’s take you to Mam, son. She’ll keep you safe.

 Hefting baby, the dresser draw and all, I carted Blair down the hall to the master bedroom. My little cub surprised me by gazing up at me, showing no fear.

 Balancing my precious cargo in one hand, I cleared the nightstand with one ruthless sweep of my arm. The noise startled the cub and he jumped, but didn’t cry out. How about that, huh? My boy was proving to be a brave little tyke.

 “Hunter, what are you doing? You can’t put the baby on top of there. He might fall off!”

 I frowned. I hadn’t thought of that.

 “My bad. Where shall I put him, then? He was a little restless and scared in this new environment. I didn’t want to leave him in the library.”

 She looked up at me, a soft smile lighting her eyes. “You’re already turning out to be a good daddy. I knew you would. Just put him on the floor by the bed, here. He probably just needs to hear our breathing, know someone’s in the room with him.”

 Her words bothered me and I eyed my son askance. On a tight thought beam, I let him know this situation was temporary.

 Enjoy this while you can, pup. Soon as we get you a crib and a nightlight, you sleep in your own room!

 No way was I sleeping with a ten-month-old baby in the same room night after night. His presence would quickly put a crimp in our love life.

 The cheeky pup had the nerve to giggle at me.

 I wagged my finger in his face. “This is not playtime, young wulf. Take yourself to sleep right now!”

 Blair closed his eyes tight. After a short while, he peeked through barely slitted lids to check if I still stood over him.

 “Yes, I’m still watching. Go to sleep.” I used my sternest voice and he obeyed immediately, flipping over onto his belly and bringing his fist to his mouth. He made sucking motions against his hand and I frowned, wondering if he could still be hungry.

 “Should we get him something else to eat?” I asked Melody, leaning over to examine the pup more closely. His eyes were shut, his breathing even. As I watched, his entire body relaxed, sagging into the bedding.

 “Naw, he’s all right. Thank you for caring. Now, come to bed. I’m lonely in here by myself.”

 “I’ll be right back. I have to go shut the lights off in the library.”

 When I returned to our bedroom, I found both of them sleeping the deep sleep of exhaustion. Moving quietly, I finished my security checks, making sure to lock the balcony doors leading out to the small private patio off the master bedroom suite.

 A jaw-cracking yawn surprised me and I chuckled silently. Tired as I was, I didn’t know how I was going to get into bed with as much woman as my Melody was and try to sleep. I knew as soon as I touched her, I would want to do a hell of a lot more.

 As I crept under the covers beside her, she turned toward me, snuggled close but didn’t truly wake. Knowing how tired she was, determined to see her need for rest met, I found it easy to subsume my desires. I settled in, drawing her phenomenal body close to mine and prepared to sleep.

 “Love you so much, Hunter,” she mumbled sleepily, rousing a bit as she felt my body warm against hers. “Thank you for fulfilling my fantasies. All of them.”

 Curling onto her side, full bottom nestled against my pelvis, she sank back into sleep.

 Lying beside my mate, my body one tired, contented ache, Buford for once, staying flat and quiescent, I opened the channel in my mind that connected us and sent her my thoughts.

 Beloved bitch, you and our son are the most miraculous thing to happen to me in this lifetime and I will love you until the stars grow dim. Your fantasy fulfillment is just beginning.

 Cuddling close, spooning our bodies together, I tiptoed into her dreams.

 Tell me your dreams, sweet bitch!

  



  

  

  

  

  

 Camille Anthony

  

 Camille Anthony is a pseudonym for the author who lives in the beautifully wild Low Country of South Carolina. She is a transplant from Sunny California. A fertile imagination and a love of romance fuels her writing, which she has been doing since grade school. Her favorite stories are those of strong, honorable people--whatever the race, or planet of origin--who are driven by love and lust to find and hold that one special someone. She likes her heroines feisty, her heroes dominant and her passion red hot!

 She loves to hear from her readers. Your comments and suggestions are appreciated.

  

 Visit Camille on the Web atwww.camilleanthony.com or e-mail her atcamilleanthony@camilleanthony.com .

  

 * * * * *

 Read on for a tantalizing glimpse of

  

 Dark Knights 1:Eternity of Darkness

 by Shana Nichols

  

 Coming this summer from Loose Id

  

  

 Dark Knights 1: Eternity of Darkness

  

 Moonlight caught Julie’s hair, gave its strands a golden glow. The ends curved inward, swayed slightly in the breeze, occasionally brushing her jaw the way he itched to do. Fine tendrils caressed the slender column of her throat, pale against the silky black material of her shawl, holding Stefan’s gaze, taunting him. He tried hard not to salivate, to recall his mission was to protect, not consume and very possibly destroy the mortal Louis had marked as his next victim.

 He could seduce Julie in order to save her. He could. He could then walk away, leaving her with nothing but a vague memory of him in the deepest reaches of her mind. How difficult could it be?

 Much more difficult than he’d have imagined before meeting her. For the first time in years--centuries--he genuinely wished he could crawl into Julie’s mind and stay there. Become part of her mortal life and take her with him into his own world… Stefan had the feeling that when he left her, he’d leave a large part of himself.

 Thinking about the vase of roses Renard had sent her incensed Stefan, far more than the gesture merited. The inexplicable pangs of hunger that wracked his own belly filled him with self-loathing, because that hunger wasn’t for sustenance but for the sensual pleasure of tasting Julie. Possessing her. He told himself it was the night and their proximity, the danger from which he’d been charged with protecting her. But he was fairly certain he was indulging in self-deception of the worst, most dangerous sort.

 Who but a eunuch could fail to be stirred at the sight of her, bathed in moonlight while the bright neon signs of upscale clubs lent her sun-kissed skin a surrealistic glow? Though Stefan resisted it, his arousal grew painful as the evening wore on. Touching her, warming his hand on the silk-draped curve of her hip…feeling the intimate heat of her fingertips through the thin fabric when she tucked them into the back pocket of his slacks…listening to the lilting sound of her soft voice when she pointed out her city’s landmarks…had him primed and ready. He ached with hunger for what he must not take.

 Always sensitive to his surroundings, Stefan tried to tell himself it was the moonlit night, the flashing neon and soulful jazz music that wafted to his ears from one of the clubs along Rush Street, putting him on sensual overload. But he knew that wasn’t entirely true. While his mind registered the signs blinking red and green, blue and purple and gold, flashing names like Mario’s and Dublin Pub and Syn and Pippin’s, his body heated in response not to them but to every stroke of Julie’s fingers on his forearm, searing and arousing him even through the layers of his clothes.

 “You know, I haven’t seen you nibble on the snacks or take more than a sip from your drinks anywhere we’ve stopped. You must be famished. I know this little retro diner down by the river that serves some of the best omelets you ever ate. Would you like for me to take you there?”

 Stefan tried not to fixate on the throbbing pulse in her throat. “I have somewhat eccentric feeding habits. If you’re hungry, of course we may head to the place you speak of.”

 She stopped beneath a streetlight, faced him, and laid her hands flat on his chest. It seemed natural, right, for him to make himself inhale and exhale, to enjoy feeling his flesh rise and fall against the light pressure of her fingers. Then she spoke, her voice soft yet urgent. “What I’m really hungry for is you.”

 “And I for you. From the moment I saw you, I knew this was destined.” He cupped her cheek, brushed his lips across hers, barely able to restrain himself from deepening the kiss, tasting her more fully. When she moved close enough to warm him with her body heat, his blood surged, leaving him lightheaded. Carnal need overcame caution, ballooned, robbed him of rational thought. His fingers tangled in the golden strands of her hair, for he dared not draw her closer, show her graphically how much he wanted her. Not here, underneath a street light at the corner of Rush and Oak Streets, in plain view of any merrymakers who might chance to leave their favorite watering holes at just this moment.

 He dared not break the gentle kiss, for if he did, he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tasting her…putting her at risk in a way she couldn’t possibly understand.

 Finally, Julie pulled away, tilting her head back as though offering her throat for his pleasure. Her tongue darted out, sampling the taste of him on her tempting, swollen lips. When she looked up at him, her cheeks glowed. Her desire was evident from the accelerated pulse he noticed in that tempting, vulnerable vein in her throat. “Let’s go back to my house.”

 Stefan gazed into her beautiful eyes. He’d set out to seduce her, only to find himself thoroughly seduced.

  

 * * * * *

 The bedroom reflected who Julie was…who Stefan wasn’t. Walls the color of clotted cream, moldings pristine white, satiny French doors overlooking a floodlighted garden through the sheerest of curtains. A huge painting of sunflowers on a dark-blue background--excellent quality, but he didn’t recognize it as the work of an artist he knew--hung above a king-size bed. Glancing back at the bank of doors with clear glass panes, he imagined the morning sun bathing the spacious room in light. Light he’d find blinding if he didn’t don the dark glasses he never ventured outside without during the day.

 Nothing like his bedroom back home, with its deep burgundy draperies that closed off the view of the English Channel, and matching bed hangings to block stray sunbeams that might have sneaked past the initial barriers. She’d hate your home, find it too dark, oppressive.

 Not a problem, he told his inner voice. That would never be an issue, no matter how much Stefan might wish otherwise. He didn’t need his conscience to remind him of Julie’s vulnerabilities. Of the danger of him that she courted so unknowingly, inviting him to take her as she’d done moments earlier.

 He’d managed to resist showering with her when she asked, just barely. Now the sound of rushing water filled his ears, flooded his mind with images of droplets sluicing over Julie’s slender throat, her ripe, full breasts. Her belly. He longed to go to her, kneel, and lick away the moisture there. She’d taste so clean, slightly salty, her fragrance of musk and roses light, never overpowering.

 No. He had to maintain some semblance of self-control. Shield her not only from Renard but from the beast that roared within himself. Seduce her, protect her…then walk away once the risk to her was over, leaving her to her mortal pursuits. He glanced at the painting above the bed, suddenly realizing when he noticed the bold “JQ” at the lower right corner that Julie did more than do restoration of paintings and dabble with art, as she’d mentioned earlier when he’d asked her whether she worked. She’d apparently created this and many of the other striking paintings he’d noticed when they’d made their way through her house.

 He’d seduced a mortal who fed on sunlight and brilliant colors. Not one who’d adapt to an eternity of darkness, even if he were selfish enough to turn her. Stefan barely held back an oath. It was so damn unfair to have found a perfect mate…one who wanted him as much as he wanted her, if he read her correctly…only to realize he’d have to save her life, then let her go.

 He toed off his shoes, rubbed his feet against plush carpeting the dark blue color of the midnight sky. As he stepped out of his slacks, he noticed the waning moon peeking between the window frames. They only had three more nights…three days. Three short days before Louis would make his move, before Julie’s life would be in mortal danger and Stefan would be her only chance for survival. Three days to make memories that would have to last a lifetime--in his case, centuries during which he’d regret having lost her every waking hour.

 In three days he’d have to be at his fighting best to meet an adversary stronger than any other he’d ever faced. An enemy stronger than himself. Fuck, but Stefan didn’t want to face Louis down with just Claude if Alex didn’t arrive in time. Not when Julie’s life would depend on him destroying his prey.

 He’d have to fight Louis, for Claude was virtually useless in a fight, and Alexandre--if the young scamp got there in time to help--was still recuperating from his own foolhardy attempt to stop the killer vampire on his own.

 Stefan had to have an edge. He dared not risk draining his strength in Julie’s welcoming body, yet he couldn’t deny her need. He’d have to tell her. Warn her of the danger she faced. Reveal himself for what he was and enlist her help in protecting herself, possibly even getting the police to listen and lend their protection. Perhaps she’d even help him find a likely source for fresh, life-sustaining blood other than the enticing vein in her pale, slender throat, for with his constant arousal, he knew he’d require a good supply.

 Stefan bent, intending to dress before Julie finished her shower, then changed his mind and stripped off the rest of his clothes. Once she saw him as he’d been born centuries earlier, without the pretense of clothing, she’d have to believe he was of another species…the creature of the night that mortals had feared and reviled since the earliest recorded history.

 That he’d be subjected to the pain of watching her desire turn to revulsion would nearly destroy him. But it couldn’t be helped. He flipped on a lamp on the bedside table, then drew back the coverlet on Julie’s bed.

 In the bright circle of lamplight, she couldn’t help but notice his body didn’t look quite like that of most mortal males. Intending to lie there, exposed to her scrutiny, he stretched out between the pale blue cotton sheets. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he drew the top sheet up over his pale, hairless chest.

 Surely it wouldn’t hurt for him to see desire on her beautiful face one more time before he made the admission he imagined must have sent many a mortal screaming for the nearest lawmen over the centuries since vampires had come to exist. Just for a moment, he told himself, he drifted into her mind, let her fierce need for him fuel his own passion, as though the irresistible pull between them were a harbinger of joy, not pain.

 Stefan reached over and dimmed the lamp to a soft glow.

 * * * * *

  

  

  

 What people are saying about

 Luna Ten 1: Cassiopeia

  

 I love Ann Jacobs. What a different world she has created inLuna Ten!…Luna Ten is a hot, steamy, turn up the air conditioner to super high, have plenty of cold water on hand, type of read. Based on Ann’sGates of Hell,Luna Ten is a standalone book and is part of a continuing series. You will do yourself an injustice if you do not addLuna Ten to your reading collection.

 --Joy,Coffee Time Reviews

  

 Luna Ten 1: Cassiopeiais quite a different look at the future. Ann Jacobs has done a wonderful job of giving the reader a look at her version of the future and laying the foundation for a series.Luna Ten 1: Cassiopeia is a highly erotic look at dominance and submission. I highly recommend it to all lovers of futuristic stories.

 --Chere Gruver,Sensual Romance Reviews

  

 …deliciously hot…a lovely introduction to Ms. Jacob’s new series for Changeling Press. With loving bondage and a “to die for hero,” this novel kept me hungrily turning pages to the end. I’m waiting with great expectation for the next one.

 --Meribeth McCombs,Road To Romance