And once more to my fans. You asked for Emme and Bren. At last, they’re finally here.
Chapter One
Emme
There’s a naked werewolf standing in front of me.
Let me kindly explain.
There’s a naked werewolf—a man who can change into a wolf—standing naked, in human form, in front of me.
They do that a lot, change from beast to full naked glory. Typically, it’s pre and post bloody battle for the sake of the world and to protect its unsuspecting human populace. However awkward, I’m used to it.
“Like what you see?” he asks.
Make that sort of used to it.
He flexes and gives a little thrust to show off what he thinks are some delectable goods and oh, my…he has three testicles.
I slap my hands over my eyes. I take it back. I take it all back. I’m not used to all this.
“Emme,” Ted asks. “Did you just gag?”
I’m not a rude person.
I’m not a liar.
“Yes?” is my response.
Ted is a lot bigger than me. He’s also stronger and can snap my spine without changing to his beast counterpart. I keep my hands over my eyes. As a nurse by trade, and a supernatural fighter by sheer terrible luck, I have seen things. Ugly, frightening, and unexceptionally evil things. And I’ve encountered creatures so menacing mere thoughts reduce me to trembles.
I draw the line at extra testicles.
The sound of slapping and bouncing skin causes me to shrink inward. Ted seems to be putting on quite the show. Honestly, it sounds like a one-man juggling act involving best-left-covered body parts.
I’m tired of dating Teds.
And humans, they wouldn’t survive me or the world my sisters and I were thrown into.
No, in order to be with me you must have something special.
And I’m not referring to what Ted is currently playing with.
My hands slip away from my face when I sense his approach.
“In my world, I’m revered for my virility,” he says to my back.
“Mm-hmm,” I reply. I pity the packmate forced to run behind him.
Ted is either referring to his obscenely large member weres are known for (“They’re built for attracting females,” my perky sister once explained) or the extra semen sack dangling halfway down his thigh. Neither impress me and neither does Ted.
I carefully step over the second of two discarded pizza boxes and make my way toward the exit.
My steps slow as I reach the door.
I turn to my left, then to my right. Something else is here.
Dread and resentment drag their long spindly fingers across my skin and hate coats my tongue.
I’m scared and on guard, and it’s not because of Ted.
My gaze skips around the apartment, past the galley kitchen and to the boarded window covered with a Scarface poster. I don’t see anyone or anything else. What I sense though is wrong and it shouldn’t be here.
I keep my voice quiet, not wanting whatever is here to hear me. “Do you feel that?” I ask.
“Yeah, baby,” he says. “It feels good. How about you feel it, too?”
Forget it. Ted is on his own.
I grip the greasy knob, trying not to give too much thought as to why it’s greasy, and more than anxious to leave Ted and his new roommate behind.
Ted slams his hand on the door above my head. It’s a show of strength, reminding me that he’s the one with the muscles and no matter how hard I pull, this door won’t open unless he allows it.
Hot and heavy breath skitters along my neck, fluttering the strands of loose blonde hair that escaped my bun. He’s aroused, like a wolf who’s just caught his prey.
Except I’m not prey, no matter how much I resemble the part.
“I thought you were different, Emme,” he whispers, this tenor pitch dropping low.
My hand slips away from the knob. “I thought you were different, too,” I say.
There were no penis pics from Ted. No midnight booty calls while drunk on witch’s brew. No inappropriate texts that made me blush or had me Googling terms like “pony play.”
I did think Ted was different. Yet here I am, in a dirty apartment and in the company of another naked loser and…something else.
That sense of hate returns, surging along with a foreboding air of vengeance. Whatever is here is out for blood.
Ted skims his knuckles down my spine, adding another layer of “ew” with each pass. But it’s that feeling that we’re not alone that amplifies my need to escape.
I reach for the knob, again. It’s useless, Ted keeps his position and the door firmly in place.
“You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be,” I tell him. My eyes fix on the chipped gray paint covering the wood. Ted is under the impression he has me where he wants me. He fails to see I’m the one in control.
“You’re the so-called ‘sweet’ one,” Ted begins. “The innocent one of the Weird girls.”
The insult draws my attention back to him. “Our last name is Wird,” I correct. “And we’re not a fan of that nickname.”
Ted continues as if I never spoke. “I know better. Every hetero with a dick does. You fucked that vampire and fucked him good, no?”
His Creole accent was cute at first. Nothing of that cuteness remains. Heat builds along my cheeks, erasing the chills that the dark presence stirred.
My teeth clench hard. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I also hear you’re sad and lonely, desperate since your boyfriend was killed. You remember him, don’t you? The same were who preferred a disfigured freak over you—”
I whip around, no longer feeling polite. “Don’t you dare speak of Liam and his mate that way, and don’t presume to know me.”
“Relax, sugar tits. They can’t hear me. They’re dead, remember?”
I slap him across the face. It hurts. Oh, it hurts. I avoid shaking out the burn in my hand. The strike worked against me. He barely felt it. But he knows I felt his words.
Humiliation crawls across my face. Being were, he can sniff my pain and embarrassment. He laughs, bent
