Otherworld Nights (10 page)

I adjusted my course, heading straight for McKay. He saw me bearing down on him and flew to his feet, bruises forgotten as he bolted after Elena.

The clatter of nails on wood told me she was on the train tracks. As we crested the embankment, I saw her tearing along the railroad bridge with Cain a half-dozen strides behind.

I caught up with McKay at the bridge’s edge. He faltered, one of his legs probably complaining from his fall. I launched myself and landed on him. As he went down, his head shot back, throat exposed. I chomped down, eyes shut against the spray of hot blood as I whipped him off his feet. He went wild, all four legs kicking and scratching, body twisting.

I bit harder, then slammed him into a bridge girder. His throat ripped on impact, a huge chunk of flesh coming free, my mouth filling with blood. I dropped him. He fell, shuddering, dying. I bit the back of his neck, swung him up again, and pitched him into the river below.

A quick kill, but during those few minutes the blood pounding in my ears had blocked everything else, and it was only as McKay’s body splashed into the water that I finally heard Elena’s snarls. I started running. Halfway across the bridge, she’d stopped and was facing off with Cain, her head down, ears back, fur on end.

At first, the mutt seemed uncertain, prancing forward then back, like a boxer bouncing on his heels waiting for the signal. As I rocketed down the tracks, paws pounding the railroad ties, he stopped dancing and dropped into fighting position, as if hearing the sound he’d been waiting for: the arrival of his backup.

I slowed, rolling my paws, footfalls going silent. Then, right behind him, I hunkered down and let out a low growl. He turned, and had he been in human form, he would have fallen over backward. On four legs, he did an odd little stumble, his paws scrabbling against the gravel.

I snarled, teeth flashing, blood flecks spraying as I shook my head. He glanced over my shoulder. Seeing no sign of McKay, he realized what had happened, and swerved back, in flight before he’d finished his turn. He made it two strides, then saw Elena in his path, snapping and snarling.

I backed up two steps and sat. He looked from Elena to me—the challenger and the roadblock. Confused, he kept glancing back as if to say, “You’re going to jump me, aren’t you?”

Elena gave up and rushed him. She caught him in the chest, knocking him backward. They went down fighting.

It didn’t last long. Cain was spooked and distracted, knowing his buddy was dead and the killer sat five feet away, waiting to do the same to him. He managed to do little more than rip out tufts of
fur while Elena sank her teeth into his flank, his shoulder, his belly.

Finally, when one bite got too close to his throat, his cowardice kicked in. He threw himself from her and tried to make a run for it. Elena flew onto his back. She grabbed his ear between her teeth, chomped down hard enough to make him yelp, then yanked, leaving tatters. He howled and bucked. She leapt off the other side, putting him between us again.

He flipped around and took a few running strides my way. I growled. He looked from Elena to me, hesitated only a moment, then flung himself between the girders and plummeted into the river.

As Elena leaned through the metal bars to watch him, I circled her, inventorying her injuries. A nasty gash on her side was the worst of it. After a lick to wipe away the dirt, I moved up beside her. Cain flailed in the water below.

She glanced at me. “Good enough?” her eyes asked.

I studied him for a moment, then grunted, not quite willing to commit yet. An answering chuff and she loped off across the bridge. I went the other way.

We toyed with Cain for a while, running along the banks, lunging at him every time he tried to make it to shore. When he finally showed signs of exhaustion, Elena gave the signal and we left him there.

A lesson learned? Probably not. Give him a year or two and he’d be back, but in the meantime he’d have to return to his buddies with a shredded ear and without McKay, and no matter what slant he put on the story, the meaning would be clear: situation normal. I wasn’t suffering from a debilitating injury or settling into comfortable retirement with my family. I’d bought myself a little more time.

Elena lifted her head, peering into the bushes that surrounded us.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “No one can see.”

“Something I really should have checked about ten minutes ago.”

She pushed up from my chest, skin shimmering in the dark. She sampled the air for any sign of Cain.

“All clear.” A slow stretch as she snarled a yawn. “One of these days, we’re actually going to
complete
an escape before we have sex.”

“Why?”

She laughed. “Why, indeed.”

She started to slide off me, but I held her still, hands around her waist.

“Not yet.”

“Hmm.” Another stretch, her toes tickling my legs. “So when are you going to blast me?”

“For taking off and running down alleys at midnight?”

“Unless you slipped something past me in the wedding vows, I think I’m still entitled to go where I want, when I want. But do you really think I’d go traipsing down dark alleys in a strange city for a bottle of water? Why not just stick a flashing ‘mug me’ sign on my back?”

“Well, you did seem a bit bored …”

“Please. That mutt’s been following us since this morning. I was trying to get rid of him.”

“What?”

“Yes, I know, I should have warned you. I realized that later, but you’d worked so hard to plan our honeymoon, and I didn’t want this mutt ruining it. I thought I’d give him a good scare and send him packing before you noticed him sniffing around.”

“Huh.”

I tried to sound surprised. Tried to look surprised. But her gaze swung to mine, eyes narrowing.

“You knew he was following us.”

I shrugged, hoping for noncommittal.

She smacked my arm. “You were just going to let me take the blame and keep your mouth shut, weren’t you?”

“Hell, yeah.”

Another smack. “That’s what you were doing at dinner, wasn’t it? Breaking his jaw. I thought it looked off, and I could swear I smelled blood when we were walking back from the restaurant.” She shook her head. “Communication. We should try it sometime.”

I shifted, putting my arm under my head. “How about now? About this trip. You’re bored.” When she opened her mouth to protest, I put my hand over it. “You’re tired of St. Louis. There’s not a damned thing to do except hole up in our hotel room, run in the forest, and hunt mutts—which, while fun, we could do anywhere. So I’m thinking, maybe it’s time to consider a second honeymoon.”

“Already?”

“I think we’re due for one. So how’s this? We pack, head home, see the kids for a couple of days, then take off again. Someplace where we can hole up, run in the forest, and
not
have to worry about tripping over mutts. Maybe a cabin in Algonquin?”

She leaned over me, her hair fanning a curtain around us. “Wasn’t that where I suggested we go when you first asked?”

“I thought you were just trying to make it easy on me. We can rent a cabin anytime. I wanted this to be different, special.”

“It was special. I was stalked, chased, attacked … and I got to beat the crap out of a mutt twice my size.” She bent further, lips brushing mine. “A truly unique honeymoon from a truly unique husband.”

She put her arms around my neck, rolled over, and pulled me on top of her.

F
riday-night college parties were the reward for a week of hard work. Time to cut loose. Get wasted. Get laid. All of which was hard to do when your mother kept texting you.

As Trevor handed him another beer, Reese texted back, saying he needed to study and he’d call her in the morning.

Am I cramping yr style? Can’t party while talking 2 yr mom
.

He choked on his beer, then replied with
Partying? I wish
.

ROTFLMAO. Go on. Party. Just be safe. And don’t forget to run this wknd
.

Trevor glanced over Reese’s shoulder and read the last text before Reese closed his phone.

“Run?” he said.

“Beer run. Promised my study mates I’d pick up a slab tomorrow.”

Trevor slapped Reese’s back. “I thought maybe you’d joined the track team. Decided footy was getting too rough for you. Don’t want to mess up that pretty face.” Trevor looked around the room, his gaze pausing on every girl along the way. “Speaking of which, have you made your choice yet? I know to let you pick first or my ego’s going to take a beating.”

Reese’s gaze slid to the dark-haired girl in the corner. She’d been shooting glances at him all night. Shy glances, her pale cheeks flushing when he’d caught her looking, her grip tightening on her wineglass as her gaze ducked away.

She was small and pretty, and looked very sweet. The kind of girl he could take home to Mom, which meant she wasn’t the girl for tonight.

He needed a run. Already, the restlessness pulled every tendon as tight as a piano wire. But the kind of run he needed meant driving out of Melbourne, suffering through the torturous Change into a wolf, and spending hours hunting and working it off. Not something he was eager to do any sooner than necessary.

At home, on his parents’ farm, Reese enjoyed his runs. Sure, the transformation was hell, but he’d spent years looking forward to his first Change, the way other kids can’t wait to reach driving age. At school, though, Changing was a major pain in the ass, so he postponed it for as long as it was safely possible. One advantage to letting that restlessness build? Really great sex.

He knew enough not to let it go too far. A werewolf couldn’t risk losing control with a lover. He knew, too, that he had to find the right girl, someone who wanted exactly what he wanted—sex straight-up, no guilt chaser when he didn’t stick around until morning. The sweet little dark-haired girl wouldn’t do.

He scanned the room. Despite what Trevor said, Reese didn’t have his pick of any girl. He just did better than Trevor, who was the rugby team’s enforcer and looked like he used his face to do the enforcing. But Reese’s dark blond hair, pleasant face, and athletic build usually got him what he wanted, and it only took him one good scan of the party to decide what he wanted tonight.

She was a redhead. Not naturally, he was sure, but he’d find that out soon enough, if the looks she was giving him were any indication. She stood by the makeshift bar with her arm around a blond friend’s waist, hand in her friend’s pocket, a fake lesbian show that
wasn’t
designed to scare guys off.

When she saw Reese watching, she leaned over and nuzzled her friend’s neck, fingers kneading her ass, and Reese felt himself harden at the thought of a threesome. Wishful thinking, he knew, but he could always hope.

Twenty minutes later, he was leaving with the redhead. The blonde had stayed behind—the threesome hint had only been bait. Which was fine. Pleasing two girls would take time and patience, and all he wanted was release. Hard and fast release.

When he’d suggested they step outside, the girl—Mandy—was on her feet before he was. They’d made it as far as the back of the building, and he’d put her up against the wall, just for an appetizer, but she seemed quite content to stay there through the main course. He did check, though, asking if she wanted to go to his flat or hers.

She pressed against him, her open shirt falling to her waist, bare breasts pale in the moonlight. “I don’t think you’d make it that far,” she said as she rubbed his crotch. “In fact, I don’t think you’re going to make it through the next five minutes.”

“Can’t help myself.” He kissed her hard, and she groaned and pressed against him. “Is that a problem?”

It wasn’t. Girls were usually flattered by his eagerness. Flattered and excited, his passion contagious, and when zippers were being yanked down a minute later, it wasn’t Reese doing the yanking. That was normal, too. He let the girls set the pace, even if they didn’t quite realize they were taking the lead. He always had to be sure he wasn’t pushing them into something they didn’t want.

But Mandy definitely wanted it. Reese was ripping open a condom when a distant crash stopped him. As he looked around, a girl screamed.

“Sounds like someone else is enjoying herself,” Mandy said.

It didn’t. Werewolf hearing meant he caught the notes of fear in that shriek. Then he heard the girl protesting, telling the guy to stop. Reese waited. Mistakes happened. Guys go to a party, get drunk, get a little pushy. A good firm “No” usually smacked their brain out of their pants.

Not for this guy. The protests kept coming, growing panicked. Reese zipped his pants and stepped back. When Mandy grabbed for him, he moved out of her reach.

“That girl’s in trouble,” he said.

“And who are you, Bruce Wayne?”

When he started walking away, she caught the back of his shirt. “Forget her. I’m sure she wants what’s coming. She just doesn’t realize it yet.”

Reese spun, knocking her hand from his shirt and giving her a glare that had her stumbling back.

“Go home,” he said, then took off in the direction of the voices.