Tommy
“Hey, baby. You like your new scarf?” I ask Stella. Stella lets out a cute little bark. Nudges her button nose against my calf, and I pick her up and settle her on my lap. It’s like the Corgi knows I need some comforting.
One glance at the clock in the living room tells me its ten minutes past eight. I fidget with Stella’s scarf. Stoke her fur to calm her down, except I’m the one in need of comforting. Stella’s eyes are on the TV. Some reality show is playing, although to me it’s just background noise. Distraction.
“He’s not coming, is he?” I ask Stella.
She only perks her ears. I sigh, quite aware I sound like a nut, talking to my dog. But don’t be silly. Every dog owner does it. I just do it much too often.
“Of course he won’t. Lance Stone answers to no one, especially not to some chubby little Peeping Tom. A nobody.” My voice hitches slightly. Damn it. I refuse to be this pathetic. This isn’t the first time a guy stands me up, but it’s just a thousand times worse its Lance.
I hug Stella to my chest. My button shirt sticks to my front and back, scratchy and uncomfortable. They’re new. Don’t ask. All the things in my closet seem inappropriate for the biggest date of my life.
“I should have expected it, really. I should have just agreed to go with Ted and the guys for a drink.” I reach for my phone. No calls or messages from Lance, but one or two from Ted. “Maybe it’s not too late to get roaring drunk.”
The doorbell rings when I’m about to text Lance. “Stop harassing me this time of the night. I don’t want to buy cookies or shit,” I holler.
More insistent knocking follows. Sighing, I put Stella down. She follows me as I walk to the front door, yank it open, and forget what creative curse I plan to unleash. My mouth goes dry and most of my anger evaporates. Lance stands there, leaning casually by the wall. He’s wearing a faded leather jacket, a plain black tee underneath, and faded jeans. Lance checks his watch.
“I know I’m late, but the patrol ended late,” he explains.
Somehow, his words don’t really sink in, because I still can’t believe Lance—all six-foot, muscled, and inked temptation, is standing by the front door.
“What patrol?” I ask, snapping back to reality. Stella plants herself beside my left leg and barks aggressively at Lance, probably reacting to my anger.
“Weren’t you listening at the meeting? Some out of control shifter’s lurking around the woods,” Lance explains. My heart softens a little when he bends down and holds out a friendly hand to Stella. “Hey, girl. I don’t mean your owner any harm.”
Miraculously, Stella approaches him. She sniffs at his hand, before letting out a happy ‘arf’. He laughs, rubbing her ears. “Nice scarf.”
“Made it for her,” I say, tight-lipped. “You made that up. What? You had another engagement in a public restroom?”
Lance growls, and the sound makes all the hairs on my neck stand. For some reason, he’s testier. “What the fuck is your problem, little wolf? Who I fuck is none of your goddamn business. I’m here now, aren’t I?”
I shut my mouth. Of course he’s right. He stands, and Stella sits, watching us. I pick her up for comfort. “Sorry. You’re right.”
“So, you ready or what?”
“Give me a minute,” I say.
I bring Stella back inside, and place her in her comfy dog bed. I carry a bowl of water, and a second one filled with food. Bending, I place the bowls down to rub her head. “I’ll be back soon. Here are some munchies in case you get hungry.”
“Why am I not surprised you talk to your dog, little wolf?”
I jump at Lance’s voice. Awkwardly, I turn, nearly bumping into the hard wall of his chest. He grabs hold of my shoulders so I won’t stumble. I’m aware of how close he’s standing, how I only need to take one-step forward so our bodies are touching. I tentatively look up at him, and notice the way his gaze grows dark, watchful.
“Kiss me,” I say impulsively.
“That an order, little pervert?” Lance asks, voice harsh.
Without waiting for my answer, his hand slides to my neck. My breathing hitches when he starts caressing the chords of my throat before settling his fingers on the nape of my neck. Lance brings our faces closer, making our first kiss intimate.
“Lance, I—” I’m speechless. Running out of coherent things to say when he bands his other hand around my waist. I take a deep breath. “It’s an order.”
Lance doesn’t protest. Only takes my lips, and the electricity I know existing between us sparkles, surging to life. Our wolves wake and begin to circle each other hungrily. He tightens his grip around my waist, eliminating escape—except I don’t want to part from his embrace.
You would think a player doesn’t know how to kiss. You’re dead wrong.
Lance thrusts fire into me, urging me to respond. Our teeth and tongues tangle for dominance. The world falls apart. I’m happy to yield, to let his prodding tongue in so I can suck it down. Brief surprise flashes on his face, but he continues fucking my mouth and I wonder if this is how he fucks—with the same arrogance and confidence that blows me away.
Reason returns to me, and I gently push against him. I don’t want to, but I have a feeling once our clothes come off and our skins and beasts touch...there’s no stopping the inevitable. But I don’t want Lance to see me as a piece of fuckable meat, no different from his other conquests.
Don’t laugh—but I want to rock his world. Make love, well, like me enough his attention will only be solely on me and no one else.
Lance releases my lips and lets out an impatient growl. I’m panting, trying to fight off how my body wants to be driven by need and lust. My wolf urges me to take the plunge, not seeing the point of heeding human dating rituals.
“Let me get my coat.” I twist away from his embrace, heart thumping.
“You’re such a fucking tease, Tommy,” Lance remarks.
I pluck my denim jacket from the hook by the front door. When I glance back at him, Lance’s gaze pins me in place. Something about us has changed after the kiss. Lance looks at me like he’s never really looked at me before. He’s no longer assessing me like a responsibility or chore, but something potentially edible.
It’s a discomforting, but strangely exciting feeling, but I act indifferent. Guys like Lance who can screw anyone become confounded when they meet a conquest they can’t instantly claim. Me. And the chase is on.
“Where did you park your car?” I ask as we walk out the hallway and get on the elevator.
Lance chuckles, and the sound raises all the hair on my back. We walk out of my apartment building and into the street. Its autumn, my favorite season, and the air feels good tonight.
“I don’t have a car, little wolf.” Lance says.
“Don’t tell me we’re walking,” I say, frowning when I catch sight of his bike. “Hell, no. I’m not getting on one of those things.”
Lance doesn’t listen. Instead, he walks over to the death machine and holds up a pink helmet for me. Seriously, pink? I’m pretty sure he did that on purpose. “Why the hell not? My baby has taken me everywhere.”
“Your ‘baby’?” I ask skeptically. “Besides, people die on those damn things.”
All four of us had gotten on dad’s car that day. Ted and I usually take the bus to school, but dad insisted on driving. He didn’t see the bike coming at us, or the driver shouting he lost control. Both dad and mom died on sight. Ted and I almost did too, except the old alpha of the Applewood pack, Jerry’s father, Amos, decided to give us the bite since we had a fifty-fifty chance of living anyway.
Lance studies me for a couple of seconds. I’m about to call him an insensitive jerk, except he asks softly, “who?”
I swallow. I’m twenty-two now. After we survived the bite, Amos also gave us a new home. The pack might not see me as a contributing important member like Ted, but they’re my only family nonetheless.
We band together when shit happens, and shit always happens when a particular group or pack controls a particular territory. Applewood is ours. We write the rules, work with the local human police to protect its folks, but that doesn’t mean it’s all happy-go-lucky.
The accident is ten years old, but I push aside the memories. “My parents.”
Lance tucks the helmet away. “We’ll walk then. The place isn’t far. A couple of blocks away.”
“Let me guess. You’re taking me to a bar?” I ask, skeptical. Lance has earned a couple of brownie points from me for being unexpectedly...sensitive.
Lance scoffs. “It’s a fucking surprise. And little wolf? If you think you’re never mounting my Harley, you’re dead wrong. I’m going to rewire that cunning little brain of yours, until you’ll see it’s only a machine.”
I swallow at the threat in his voice. Fixate on the implication of a ‘next time’ with Lance. What the hell does that mean? A second date? Simply hanging out?
“Come on,” Lance urges. He lights a cigarette as we walk. Then offers me one.
“No thanks. Quit these a while back,” I say. He shrugs.
“Were you serious about a psycho hunting our woods?” I ask.
Shifters who go crazy are those who find themselves losing control of their animal. Eventually, they can no longer turn back to human. Once that happens, they become wild and rabid predators. The only known method to save them was to kill them. Personally, I’ve never seen a wolf in the pack slip, but other wolves say it’s happened, especially to newly bitten werewolves.
“You seriously want to begin with something heavy like that on a first date?” Lance asks, sounding amused.
“Like you know what actually happens on dates.”
He scowls at me. “You seem to have a fucking fixed impression of me, little wolf.”
“I take notes,” I say unhelpfully. Regret it a second later, because Lance might think I’m a stalker—totally not sexy. I clear my throat at his look. “Most dominant wolves in the pack who pull rank do that sort of shit. Fuck and get high like there’s no tomorrow. Do it all over again with another person the next evening.”
“You’re not wrong,” Lance admits. “But it gets fucking boring after awhile. We’re here.”
“Here?” I echo.
I look around, sort of recognizing the neighborhood. Applewood’s pretty small, so it doesn’t take long to explore the entire town on foot. This particular street is lined with old antique shops during the day. What’s looking back at us is an old-fashioned ice cream parlor and diner rolled into one. Says so on the retro sign outside.
Lance pushes the door and I follow him in.
“Wow. Didn’t know something like this still existed in Applewood, and I’ve lived here my whole life,” I tell Lance.
I’m kind of stunned when Lance tells the waitress he has a reservation. The perky blonde in a 1970s orange waitress uniform leads us to a comfy four-seater booth in the corner of the half-filled diner.
Diners are mostly human retirees with the exception of two vampires on the other side. Judging by their auras, I can tell they’re pretty old despite looking like a couple of twenty year olds. Probably from Wulf’s coven, since Wulf’s line are the only permanent vampire residents in Applewood.
“I eat here at least once a week to get away from everyone else,” Lance mutters. I suspect he means the pack.
He isn’t kidding about being a regular. Another waitress, an elderly matron with the name ‘Betsy’ on her name tag, cheerfully greets Lance by name.
“The usual? And oh, who’s this sweetheart you brought with you?” Betsy asks, putting down her notepad.
“Tommy Jenkins. I’m his date.”
Betsy doesn’t seem to care she’s serving two gay werewolves. Doesn’t question why a bad boy player like Lance is dating a guy like me. She beams. “That’s a surprise...and a relief. Lance never brings anyone else here. I’m beginning to worry he’s never going to settle down.”
“Settle down? Woman, I’ve been blackmailed to this date,” Lance mutters.
Betsy beams at me. “Good for you. Like my momma always said, there are the go-getters and the bums.”
I like Betsy already. A lot. “I’ll get whatever he’s getting.”
“You sure, hon? Lance can eat like an ox,” Betsy asks with genuine concern.
“Absolutely.” I point to my stomach. “I’m a voracious eater.”
She laughs, and then says she’ll be back with our food in a little while.
“You sure you up for the challenge, little wolf? I eat a really big dinner,” Lance says, lighting another smoke.
I dubiously eye his rock-hard body and amazing arms.
“Pumping iron and running drops calories fast,” he replies.
I get what he means. Most shifters who keep in shape work as hard as humans. Our metabolism is a little faster, but it doesn’t mean we’re instantly sporting serious guns and rock-hard abs. I’m not one of them though. Exercise and I are not very good friends. Besides, I’m comfy with my shape. Although...what would Lance say if he sees me naked? What are the chances we’ll end up in bed?
My stomach grumbles as Betsy returns with...platters of food. I kid you not. It’s literally a buffet. There’s steaks, ribs and Buffalo wings, a whole roast chicken. Not to mention side dishes like an entire mixing bowl-sized slaw, mashed potatoes and fries.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, because if I eat all of these, I’ll definitely bloat like a whale. Not attractive when we’re having sex.
“You said you were a...what was that fancy word you used? Voracious eater,” Lance says. He flashes the sharp ends of his pointed canines at me. I don’t know if he intentionally set out throwing the gauntlet at me.
I cross my arms. “Clearly, you don’t know who you’re looking at.”
“Who am I looking at?” Lance asks, playing the game.
“Applewood’s hotdog and steak eating champion. Three years defending champion,” I say proudly.
Lance doesn’t look put off by the information. Instead, he grins. “I like guys who can eat.”
“You’re just saying that because you want to have this sexy package,” I accuse, pointing to my body. In another situation, I would be dead embarrassed. Guys these days are obsessed with body image no matter who they date, but for some reason, I feel at home with Lance.
“If I want to date a prissy bastard, I might as well get pussy.” Lance pulls one platter to his side, picks up a fork, and gives me one of those looks again—intent, penetrating, and capable of waking up my cock. “And little wolf? This might be a date, but by the end of the night, I am going to fuck you senseless.”
My entire face flushes. I steal a glimpse around the diner, but only the vampires could have heard. The male vampire gives me a once over, looks at Lance, and then turns back to his companion.
“Dude. You say that line to all your dates to scare them off?” I demand, except I know no one refuses Lance. How could they?
“Eat,” Lance orders.
Boy, he wasn’t kidding. Lance could eat. On some dates I go to, I usually get a sad little salad or a carb-free main dish. This time, I tuck in. We decimate most of the spread and take out the rest. Besides, Stella would like a T-bone.
“I’m full. Getting sleepy,” I mutter.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Lance warns after paying the bill. Betsy beams and tells Lance she hopes to see us both again.
We head out into the chilly night. I shiver, feeling the carbs starting to hit me like a couple of lethal punches.
“Come here,” Lance demands.
I blink. Sigh when he pulls me close. His body heat warms me up instantly. My spiritual wolf snuggles beside him close, but Lance’s wolf and human half has other ideas.
“I followed the date script, little wolf,” Lance whispers against my ear. His breath is warm too.
“Oh yeah,” I murmur, rubbing my cheek against his shoulder. He smells good. Fast food grease, smoke, and leather—who knew that combination of scents can be such a turn-on?
“Doesn’t the fucking come after a good dinner?” Lance asks.
“I want that too, but the potatoes are starting to make me really sleepy,” I mutter.
“I know just the thing to wake you up.”
“What—” I don’t finish the sentence. Lance catches my bottom lip with his teeth and begins to suck and nibble. Then he takes me by storm, deepening the kiss, thrusting fire into me. My eyes widen. Tingles creep up my body. My cock jolts to life. I’m wide-awake, aware Lance is kissing me in public. He tastes of the mint candy we ate after, and cigarette smoke.
Lance palms my chest, his hand settling on the bulge in my jeans. He lets go of my swollen lips, and then nips at my ear. “Still sleepy, little wolf?”
“God. No.”