No longer needing to hold herself, she let her freed hands skim inside of his T-shirt. Her fingers tripped up his abs, and he flexed for her, every muscle tightening. She rubbed his nipples, and he jerked against her, which made her rub him again, harder. Then she pinched, and he gasped, pulling the air from her lungs.
If he wasnt careful, she was going to make him come in his jeans.
He hitched her higher on his belly, taking the strain off his denim-bound erection. Down through the opening between their bodies, she wedged one hand into his waistband. His cock, already surging upward, rose to meet her questing fingers as she popped the first button of his fly.
She slicked her thumb over the first bead of cum at the same time she pinched his nipple again, sending an electric jolt through his groin.
She palmed him, sliding the ring of her thumb and forefinger over the blunted head of his shaft. He threw back his head in anticipation of that first delicious stroke...
That didnt come.
He opened his eyes to find her all but crouched over him, eyes glittering, both her knees on the pool table, him bent over nearly backward.
I dont run, she repeated.
You better not. The threat sounded a little breathless in his own ears. Not now.
Still she lingered, holding himliterallyon the edge.
Footsteps scraped in the gravel outside, and a quartet of voices rose. In another second, the door would swing open.
And here he was, almost flat on his back, Beta in his own bar.
He heaved upright, dumping Merrilee off his lap while he hastened to stuff his stiffy back behind the buttons.
She landed easily, the long hem of her sweater settling around her as if nothing had happened.
But she gave him a triumphant look. So having people know about us...
He growled low in his throat. The sound was a little ragged and lost in the thump of the door swinging wide to admit Orson and his cronies.
Im telling you, Orson was saying. Imps are only the first sign.
Unless its the only sign, argued the quartet baritone, a black bear wereling who conveniently went by the name Barry. The other two black bears nodded.
Orson threw up his hands with a grizzly-sized grunt which clearly did not impress the others. He fixed Beck and Merrilee with a stare. What are you two doing?
Beck tried to choke out an answer, but Merrilee slipped in front of him gracefully. We gathered some iron antiques for weapons. She grinned at Orson. Babette said you can come pick them up whenever.
A flush colored the old mans cheeks. Aint got a truck.
Borrow Becks. While the grizzly grumbled, she went behind the bar and served up a round of plain waters. So tell us, what did you boys smell?
That imp was creeping around for a couple days at least, Barry said while the quartet clambered onto stools in front of her.
Orson drank deep before rubbing his nose. It was a subtle thing, which I suppose makes sense for a spy. Wouldnt have known what I was smelling if it hadnt died in my backyard.
Any pattern? Beck didnt take the fifth water, and Merrilee arched a brow at him.
Orson pulled a small, tattered notebook from his pocket. Flipping past pages of musical notations, he paused on a sketched map of the town. Caught the oldest scent here. He pointed at the mouth of the valley. Anything earlier was lost in the comings and goings. Lot of traffic there. Anyway, it skipped up the valley, back and forth. He zigzagged his finger along the map, stopping when he got to the Sun-Down at the end of the road.
Searching, Merrilee said.
For what? Beck scowled at the map. It was digging through my garbage.
She deliberately did not look at him. Maybe we should have held it for questioning.
Next time a three-legged spider thing tries to stab you, you can hold it for questioning. But even as he said it, the thought of her wrestling the imp with its stabbing claws made what was left of his erection wither.
She gave him a glance that would have cooled any lingering ardor. Ill do that.
Maybe they wont come back, Barry said.
Orson snorted. The phae dont back down.
Neither do we, Merrilee said.
Beck looked at the pattern on the paper. The imp had stopped at the bar only because he had stumbled upon it. But the zigzag had been headed in one direction: toward the mountains.
Toward the lake village. Toward Merrilee.
Why did she feel such a need to poke him?
Merrilee watched while Beck outlined a sentry schedule for the quartet and a few others they trusted to keep quiet. No sense worrying the towns wereling population into an uproar about creatures that were mostly a legend to them, much as they themselves were a fantasy to the unsuspecting humans.
She waited while he tossed Orson the keys to his truck and ushered the quartet out. Only then did she shakily settle on a bar stool, flattening one hand over her aching breasts.
She poked him because she wanted him to poke her with that long, thick, hard
He slammed the door open, reentering the bar, and she jumped off the stool.
She just couldnt back down. If she did, she might never want to get back up again.
And worse? She might like it.
That imp was heading my way, she said.
He nodded, his face impassive. Now you know what to watch for. Or what to smell for, anyway.
She wavered. Her smaller pack didnt have the resources Becks did. If she tried to set up a watch, shed quickly have a group of worn-out werelings who could be as much a danger to themselves as any phae.
She bit her lip, and the little pain reminded her she could take greater pain and so could her people. They had before and they would again to preserve the place theyd won with blood and kept now with a fierce allegiance that a one-time soldier would surely understand.
Beck rubbed the back of his neck. Merrilee
Grandmère would be disappointed shed even for a moment weakened. Ill keep you updated. I assume youll do the same.
Of course. Let me give you a lift home.
She spun on her heel. Ill hitch a ride with Orson.
Babe...
She didnt pause this time, but she kept her footsteps even so it didnt look like she was running.
But even though she was going slow, he didnt chase after her.
By the time she retrieved the iron scraps with Orsonwho loaded Becks pickup with a notable lack of bear deliberateness while Babette chatted at himand they swung by her cottage to unload half the iron, the sun was heading for the backsides of the mountains.
She paused to wipe her forehead. Despite her wereling strength, wrestling the length of decorative fencing without getting impaled was a trick. Even Orson was huffing as he leaned against the pickups bumper.
He resettled the straps of his overalls. Got everything?
She nodded. Half of it, anyway.
Hed give it all, if you just asked.
She frowned at him, bemused. I wouldnt leave the town undefended.
Aint the town thats wide-open. Its his heart.
It hadnt been Becks heart open, but his pants. Babette got to you, didnt she?
The old griz flattened his lips in a prim line. Bears are solitary.
Merrilee tapped her chin. So where do little bears come from?
Never mind that. I mean to say bear-kind dont bother themselves with who is first and who is second.
She stiffened. I dont bother either. I am Alpha.
If that keeps you warm at night.
It didnt. It kept her up some nights, as she checked her spreadsheets and work orders, making sure her pack stayed strong. Strong and separate. She didnt have much from the mother whod left her with a loving but stern grandmother, even less from the ancestress who had fought a hundred years ago, but this they had passed to her along with her Alpha blood: a place of her own. She would not give that up to another pack or to the phae.
Or to her own traitorous heart.
Chapter 6
Explaining the imp to Keisha and her husband, Peter, was easier than Merrilee had expected. She invited them to her cottage for dark beers and darker troubles, but they knew more about the phae than she did.
Peters mother loved fairy tales, Keisha said. Where do you think he got his name?
Merrilee wrinkled her nose. Didnt Peter kill the wolf?
Peter shook his head. He just caught it and marched it in a victory parade. It was Russia, where they do that sort of thing.
To her mind that wasnt a preferable outcome. Beck is keeping things quiet in town, but we dont have that luxury. I want at least two iron weapons in every hand by tomorrow afternoon.
Shed already told them about Babettes scraps. Keisha started sketching at the office desk while Peter solidified her ideas in a drafting program, the two of them in their matching World of Warcraft T-shirts arguing whether iron-tipped spears or crossbow arrows would be more practical.
Some werelingswith the intrinsic wildness they could never fully tamewere incapable of dealing with a world where the wild was limited to national parks and weekend getaways. Her pack had successfully transitioned to modern life, via the magic of telecommuting. But now it turned out, strong Wi-Fi and a sizeable bank account were no replacement for cold, hard iron. For a nervous moment, Merrilee wondered if she was asking too much of her clever, artsyand lets face itnerdy pack.
For a half second, she imagined a big, strong wereling crashing through the cottage door, hand-and-a-half iron sword over his wide shoulders. Maybe hed say something suitably pithy, like, Ill save you!
Before his face coalesced in her mind, she mentally kicked herself. After she kicked the imaginary savior out of her head.
She had to be the big, strong wereling here.
Luckily we have a bronze sculptorcougar-kind from Seattleworking here with friends, Peter was saying. Hell have all the metal working equipment we need.
Lucky, she muttered.
Keisha looked up from her sketches, her frown magnified by the round lenses of her glasses. We got this, Mer. Why dont you grab something to eat? You sound a little grumpy.
Anybody else said that, Merrilee wouldve snapped their head off, made that her snack. But she nodded. Werelings were creatures of bodily passions, and shed been neglecting hers, which was why shed gone to Beck in the first place.
And just look where that had gotten her.