Page 12 of Marked By Feral Monsters
Inexplicable hurt stings my eyes, which is ridiculous. Fuck, I'm not cut out for this.
I'll finish this table, then I'll take Eli up on the job offer, and serve drinks for the rest of my life. Maybe I can get a job in marketing for The Monster Playhouse, help them franchise or something.
I look over at the only remaining green light. I take another sip of water, then I'm ready.
Much like the first client, his whole body jerks, as if in surprise, when I grab hold of him. His feet slam erratically. I cantell by his legs he's a little smaller than the first werewolf, but not by much.
Can you tell a personality by someone's cock alone? That seems silly. But the way his hips shake and knees tremble, there's something sweet about this guy. The more I work him over, the quicker I forget about my earlier disappointment.
He comes faster than the first. Eager and ready, I barely grip his knot before he's coming down my throat, and I almost choke at the surprise. He comes longer than the first, and I work my lips over his velvety length, humming against the soft skin, feeling a rush of pleasure every time his foot slams down beside me.
I'm wet again—still—and when I finish him off, greedily drinking him down, again, it's like I'm right there with him, ready to grind myself against his body and hold him close.
I'm sweating, and the cool air chills me.
Even more so now, when I let go of the wolf and lean back. And take in the room. The quiet. The cold. The alone-ness of it all.
I can't do this job. I can't feel this wet with need, this attracted to these strangers without faces and, worse, feel this empty after every client. How do the other employees do this?
I clean up, use the bathroom, taking extra care to clear away the embarrassing amount of wetness from between my legs. My underwear is a lost cause, so I take them off and stuff them in my bag. I drink another bottle of water, stalling, hoping that when I return, I'll have three more green lights. Because if this is my last night down in the lower deck, I want it all. I wantthemall.
But when I return to the table, all five werewolves are gone. My chest tightens as I look around the empty, stark room, and my heart skips a beat, falling out of rhythm, so strong I can feel my pulse churn in my gut.
Again, inexplicably, tears burn my eyes.
I guess I didn't do a good job after all.
Arlo
When a werewolf catches a scent, nothing and no one can run from us. Sweet apple pie, sticky burnt sugar, fresh autumn air.
The scent of home. The scent of our mate.
My wolf has two modes: feral beast and patient hunter.
Right now, they collide, fighting for control. I can't see straight with the thought of her so close.Hunt. Catch. Bite.
"Arlo, stop!" Knox's voice pierces through the chaos in my mind, but I'm so hazy, I barely register him. There's too much urgency.Mate, my wolf chants.Find our mate.
There's nothing else, nothing exists but that one thought, one task.Find her.Apples, autumn leaves.Find her.
Sweet human, nervous, neurotic. She sounds perfect. A few throwaway words about her, and I already think she's the most wonderful person on the planet.
Dodging monsters, fighting the shift while I hunt, I note traces of her scent littered throughout the club. I run frantically between the tables, toward the bar, accidentally running into a server—the cotton candy girl—sending a tray of drinks in the air. Movement across the room tells me a troll is already on his way toward me.
An orc I wasn't expecting plows into me from the side. I land hard, then retaliate with a swift kick to his knee. He lands a brutal punch to my stomach, but all I can think about is my mate. My claws emerge and I swipe, cutting into his mossy green skin. Blood seeps from the orc's neck, but the troll catches upto us, his lumbering steps shaking the ground, and he pulls me out of the orc's grasp. Knox punches the orc in the face. They're evenly matched, but against the troll, I'm fucked.
Hoisted into the air, the troll tucks me under his arm like a misbehaving child. Half-wolf, snarling and slicing, he carries me through a set of double doors while I'm a desperate flurry of resistance. I manage to get out of his grasp just as Knox barges through the doorway.
"Let him go! Our mate is here, we need to find her!" Knox's voice booms as he slams into the troll from behind. He lands on all fours, still in human form, but rebounds and attacks again.
The troll is unmoved. He throws out his arm slowly, but it's like a swinging anvil, flinging Knox into the wall. Knox is huge, and he lands hard against the confined space, leaving a crack in the plaster.
Knox takes a second to shake it off, and that pause gives me clarity.
"Our mate is here. We found her. She is here," I plead with the troll. "We must get to her."
He furrows his giant unibrow and huffs, then tosses me to the ground. My heart is racing, I'm panting. I begin to shift again, then glance behind us, back toward the club. I can run faster as a wolf.
