Scared of Spiders

She was deep into her spreadsheets when the murmur of voices caught her attention. She ignored them, even as her body flushed in interest wondering if it was one of her good-looking bosses.

Ignorance removed itself from the list of options when the first savage snarl sounded from the warehouse floor.

Oh, my God, what was that?

Chapter Three

Clint and Brandon filed into the warehouse followed by the rest of the pack. A shiver ran through Brandon as the lingering scent of Josie hit his nostrils. He breathed deep. Damn, it was as if she’d just walked by and the sweet aroma, uniquely hers, made him hard, even given the reason for their presence at the warehouse on a weekend.

“Do you really think they’re going to show up?” Brandon asked Clint as he leaned against some stacked crates. He hoped the rogues showed up quickly so they could take care of business and still salvage enough of the evening for him to ‘drop by’ Josie’s place with a movie and a pizza. The whole going slow so as to not scare her was chafing to both him and his beast, which whined to mark her. He could sense the impatience in Clint, too, the only saving grace in their battle to win her affections.

“Oh, they’ll show,” said Clint, his expression hard. “I made the message pretty clear. Meet us on our terms, or we’d take their no-show as an act of war.”

“Should have gone for war,” grumbled Brandon. “You know these rejects aren’t going to join the pack. And even if they leave town, they’ll just end up terrorizing another place.” The rogues had caught their attention when they’d shown up in their town a week or so back and didn’t follow pack protocol by checking in with the alpha for the area. They’d further broken pack rule by hunting without permission and causing bodily harm to a human. Unacceptable, hence the summons for them to appear and face judgment.

“My pack. My rules. Besides, I get the feeling there’s another player guiding them. Rogues aren’t usually so brazen.”

“Speaking of which…” Brandon trailed off and stood up straight as he took his position of beta beside his alpha. The rogues came slinking in, a juvenile-looking bunch with greasy hair and biker-styled clothing. Wannabes who in their very arrogance were dangerous. Brandon still thought killing them all was the best option. If someone was pulling their strings, that would send the message of “fuck off or die,” too.

But, then again, his kill-now, oops-later attitude was why he wasn’t pack leader. He’d let Clint enjoy the headaches. Besides, while Clint was occupied with pack politics, it left Brandon more time to pursue their little mouse, whose commanding tone in the office was at odds with her timid nature outside the workplace. But the occasional spark of attitude proved she was coming around. Slowly.

The rogue leader sauntered up to them with a cocky grin on his face. “So, who’s the old guy in charge?”

Clint gave the arrogant pup a cold smile. “Me. Why? You think you can take me?”

The smile on the young rogue’s face didn’t falter, and Brandon wanted to shake his head at the stupidity. Youth was well and good, but Clint was just entering his prime, and aside from his experience, he outweighed the pup by several stones.

“Name the place, old man, and I’ll whip your ass for control of the pack.” The challenger and his lackeys laughed amidst the growls of the pack. The pup laughed louder at the encouragement of his mangy followers, and it was then that Brandon noticed something disturbing. While all their faces were twisted in a rictus of laughter, their eyes shone with madness and, in some cases, even tinges of fear.

Brandon wished they were in wolf form where he could have spoken to Clint and warned him to watch for treachery, for it was becoming more and more obvious the rogues were merely puppets, and the power to control that many meant a strong player had entered the fray without announcing themselves. Bad manners.

“Choose your body,” said Clint, his tone hard and his posture brooking no nonsense.

“Wolf of course,” grinned the young rogue as he stripped out of his clothes to reveal a lean muscled body that, without its concealing layers, appeared even smaller.

Clint, on the other hand, once stripped looked even more imposing with bulging muscles all over that Brandon grudgingly admired. No matter how much I work out, I don’t have the build for that kind of bulk.

Clint’s shift into his wolf-a huge black monster with intense glowing green eyes-was effortless. The pup, on the other hand, really had to force his beast to emerge, a painful process that just reinforced Brandon ’s impression that the rogue group didn’t act of their own will.

Clint sat on his hairy haunches and waited for the smaller wolf to attack, which it did with the rabid intensity of a pit bull. However, it was clear from the onset what the outcome of the fight would be.

Clint’s wolf let the young one snarl and snap, then in a show of force meant to intimidate, flattened the pup in one fell swoop. With his massive jaw, he pinned the other wolf by the throat to the floor.

That should have ended it, instead it acted like an invisible switch and Brandon barely had time to shift, his clothes tearing as his wolf shoved through. Just in time, too, for the pack of rogues, shifting in a burst of fabric, attacked.

Brandon actually enjoyed putting the mangy pack in their place. And he would have emerged unscathed if a gasp of fright hadn’t distracted him. He turned his head to see Josie with her eyes wide and a hand clapped over her mouth watching them from the stairs to the office.

A second later, his inattention caused a wolf flying at him to knock him down, sharp teeth snapping at his throat. Brandon scrabbled for the upper paw and regained it in time to hear Josie shriek.

A quick glance showed his little mouse standing with terrified eyes halfway down the steps to the office, a snarling wolf advancing toward her.

Done playing, Brandon snapped the neck of the wolf under him and bolted for the stairs. Clint was a black streak beside him. Brandon got there first and grabbed the foreleg of the rogue menacing Josie.

He yanked down the mutt who thought to go after his woman. As he subdued the young pup, he saw Clint shift back into human shape in time to grab Josie as she slumped in a faint.

Hmm, guess we’ll have some explaining to do when she wakes up.

* * * *

Clint looked up to see Josie on the stairs, frightened and with reason considering the wolf advancing on her. Clint ran for her, and when Brandon took care of the rogue, Clint shifted back to his man shape in time to catch Josie, whose eyes rolled up into her head as she fainted.

“Fuck.” He scooped her up and gave a quick glance to the battle winding up below-less a battle and more of a massacre. What were the pups thinking? Brandon still in wolf shape met his gaze and yipped. Satisfied that Brandon would take care of the rogues still kicking, Clint carried his sleeping beauty up to his office. He laid her tenderly on the couch and hurried to pull his spare clothes out. But he wasn’t quick enough.

He heard her gasp and turned while still pulling up his pants. Her startled glance settled on his still mostly naked body, and her mouth formed an O. She stared at his bared upper body then trailed down to stop at the bared triangle visible at the front of his pants. Clint buttoned with difficulty given his engorging state. Her cheeks reddened, and her flustered gaze shifted to look at everything but him.

“It’s okay to look,” he teased as he tried to lighten the mood before the inevitable questions began. “Heck, you can even touch.”

The color on her face deepened, but despite her embarrassment, the sweet scent of her desire wafted up, and Clint grinned wolfishly. Okay, so she still wants me. Now to explain the fact we’re all werewolves.

“Um, I’m sorry to have intruded on your dog fight,” she said as she fidgeted on the couch, still not meeting his gaze.

“Come on; don’t play dumb. I know you saw us and the truth of what we are.”