Page 87 of Wolf Bane
“We’re not doing anything in this position,” he murmured, breaking away just enough for some sips of air.“We’re not teenagers anymore.”
“Worth a shot,” I muttered back, diving in to latch on to that spot just below his ear that made him?—
“Oh my God, Landry!”
Yeah.That made him do that.
The major benefit to doing this in our thirties versus our late teens was neither of us was about to have to go home with damp, sticky jeans and make a run for the bathroom before family members noticed.The downside?“Jesus!Leg cramp!”
Ethan chuckled shakily, his discomfort extremely clear as I shifted to sit back on the passenger side, rubbing my thigh as my muscles reminded me I was no longer seventeen.
“Wait till this evening?”he asked, voice whisky-dark, sending a little thrill straight to my nethers.
“I’d rather consummate our marriage right this second,” I complained, “but I think I might’ve torn my hamstring.”
Ethan snorted, started to say something, but froze when both of our phones went off at once.“Digital shivaree,” he said when the initial burst of ringtones stopped.“Tyler fucking with us.”
“Has to be,” I muttered.The phones started up again.Tyler on his, Mal on mine.A flood of texts started, the pinging and ringing chorus filling the cab of Ethan’s truck with dread, erasing any scintilla of arousal.“Shit.”
He nodded, grabbing his phone from the dash and answering.“Hey, what’s going on?We’re about halfway home.Why?”
I opened my texts.Every one of them was some iteration ofget back to the house, come back now, emergency, hurry.
Ethan glanced at me, eyes wide.I nodded, reaching for the seat belt.Wedding day be damned, I guess.
* * *
Our street was blockedwith firetrucks and cop cars.One ambulance stood at the very end, bay doors open but no activity inside.The EMTs looked to be shooting the shit, which gave me a modicum of relief.If they weren’t in a hurry, no one was hurt.
Though they wouldn’t be in a hurry for a cadaver or two, would they?Not like the dead are going anywhere until we help them along.
A deputy I vaguely recognized strode over to the driver’s side, smiling slightly when he recognized Ethan.“Hey, Chief.Long time no see.”
“What’s going on, Gordy?”he asked tightly.“Is anyone hurt?”He started to unbuckle but Gordy laid a hand on the door.A gentle but firmstay where you are.“That’s our house, Gordy.”
No one was on my side, so I hopped out.Ignoring Gordy’s shouted protest, trusting Ethan to keep him busy, I ran towards the thickest cluster of firefighters and cops, where I could see Tyler pacing and Waltrip looming like the ginger giant he was.“Hey!”I shouted.“Hey, what—oh, no…” I skidded to a stop.
My house.
It was standing but scorched.Dark sooty marks reached from the ground to the topmost peak of the roof, fingers of fire having left their mark.The front windows were broken but I didn’t know if that was due to the firefighters or whoever had set the place on fire.
“Whoa there, buddy, where?—”
“This is his house,” Tyler snarled, stepping between me and the firefighter.“Back off!”
“Easy,” Justin muttered, shuffling closer.“He just needs to talk to Landry.It’s okay.”
“The carport,” Tyler hissed.“
I stretched to see past the tall firefighter who was currently waving over someone else, someone in a white shirt with gold and black epaulets, to come talk to me, the red letters on the wall of the carport near the side door.
What do we do to mongrels?
The ground was hard and sharp under my legs and ass.I fell without realizing it, the flood of memories—Garrow’s voice, that grating threat, werewolf teehbared teeth in dim streets as I tried to pretend they weren't there, weren't chasing me down slowly.
The taste of blood flooding my mouth, chased by the chlorine-sharpness of the IV flush.
Justin’s sharp shout, his blazing eyes when he leapt, when he took Murchison to the ground.
