Page 48 of Claimed By Werewolf
“Try and stop me,” I said.I would die before I left Werewolf’s side tonight.
We moved together into the current.The winged brunette watched me pass, though her face was unreadable.A prospect wiped down a table like it might confess something if he rubbed hard enough.Tremor’s eyes cut like a blade, then slid away.No more personal commentary, which was somehow worse.
Close to the door, a man I hadn’t seen before unfolded from a chair.No patch, but he wore a cut like he’d been fitted for one and had walked out before they sewed the name on.
“Wolf,” he said, a nod like a test.“Need a word.”
“Later,” Werewolf said.Easy.Cold.
“Later,” the man echoed, eyes flicking to me.“New pet?”
I didn’t get the chance to answer.Werewolf’s body went still, and stillness in him was louder than violence in anyone else.
The man smiled like he’d been waiting to tap that vein.“Relax.I meant it kindly.”
“Don’t mean anything to her,” Werewolf said.“We clear?”
“Crystal.”The man’s gaze did one more slow slide, then he turned away.
“Bad news?”I asked under my breath.
“Old news,” he said.“That’s Chet.A prospect who will never get his full rocker.Any attention is good attention to him.”
Yeah, not the kind of person I wanted to get to know.I wasn’t sure there was anyone besides Werewolf I wanted to know in the Sons.
We pushed through the door into the early night.The air held that hint of October that tasted like apples and smoke.Halloween was a day away.
He walked me to the bikes.There, under his rear tire, was a scrap of paper folded twice, with a greasy thumbprint on the corner.He clocked it too and nudged it under the bike with his boot so only we could see.He bent, picked it up like it was nothing more than a receipt, and unfolded it with two fingers.
Four words were scribbled on the paper:She makes you weak.
No signature.
Tremor was my guess on who it was from.He seemed to like tormenting and teasing Werewolf.
“That’s interesting,” I said.
Werewolf shoved it into his pocket and grunted.“More like a note from an idiot.Fucking Tremor.He just liked poking the bear.”
“Are you worried?”
He scoffed.“That he thinks I’m weak because I’m with you?”He shook his head.“He couldn’t be more wrong.Hungry?”he asked, dismissing the note completely.
“For food?”I said.
“For anything.”
“Always,” I said, and he heard everything I didn’t say.
We didn’t make it to the bar.We made it three steps before he caught my wrist, turned me in under the overhang just out of the line of sight, and kissed me like the note hadn’t rattled him at all.His hand framed my face and his mouth took mine.Heat broke over me, real and fast.I clutched his cut and went up on my toes to meet him halfway.
It didn’t go further, but it went far enough that when he broke away, I had to relearn how to breathe.His knuckles traced my cheekbone.
“Tonight,” he said, promise and warning fused.“I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“I wasn’t going to let you,” I said.It came out breathless, but I meant it.
We stepped back into the noise.Someone wolf-whistled.Someone else laughed.
