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In honor of Lupercalia, here is an excerpt from WEREWOLVES IN LOVE, a work in progress about werewolves in love (and the various ways that werewolves love). (Clever working title, innit?)
At this point, the main character has only recently been bitten and is still learning about her new abilities. Neither sex nor interacting with humans has been forbidden to her, but she was warned by the female alpha wolf to be careful, because she’s a whole new woman in a whole new world now.
No sex in this excerpt, just how hard a first time meeting can hit a werewolf.
The garage itself was perpendicular to the office and the big bay doors opened off the side street. Gravel crunched beneath her trainers as she walked around the side of the building; stones twisted and she corrected her balance without conscious thought.
She took a deep breath to calm her temper and then another, testing her senses. There was oil, fresh from whatever cars where inside the garage and older, embedded in the ground, in the rocks and the dirt. There was the sharp bite of gasoline and hot metal which set her teeth on edge.
There was the tang of sweat, of hot skin and warm blood; her tongue curled.
Someone was working in the garage. She heard steady breathing and the faint scrape of cloth on metal.
The far bay door was open and she angled toward it. There weren’t many lights on inside, which must make it difficult for the mechanics to see what they were doing. She stopped just outside the door, still caught in the sunlight, and cleared her throat.
No response, but she could hear a heartbeat.
The car in the next bay over was hoisted into the air but the one directly in front of her was still on the ground. From underneath it came the groan of metal, then the scrape of it across concrete and a man on a creeper rolled out from under the car and his scent washed over her fully, no longer masked.
Her mouth went dry; she licked her lips, but her tongue felt like sandpaper. She couldn’t stop staring. She didn’t want to stop staring, because damn. He sat up, draped his arms over his knees, and watched her right back. His arms were bare and thick tattoos curled around his biceps. The black ink contrasted nicely with his smooth brown skin and though she didn’t recognize any of the designs, the twisting lines seemed detailed.
He grinned and her gaze dropped to his mouth. He had full lips and stubble along his jaw. She wanted to put her tongue to his skin, to bite at the corner of his throat, to make him bleed.
She caught herself before she took another involuntary step forward.
“Can I help you?” he asked. He growled. His voice was low and dark, gravel on the edges. Rough. It made her twitch, covered her skin with goose bumps and chills. She calculated quickly; five big steps to reach him, two if she ran, and probably she could hit him from here if she leaped. He was hunched forward, protecting his vulnerable belly and throat, but if she put her hands on his shoulders and shoved, she would lay him flat, open him to her cunt and her mouth and her teeth – she could fuck and bite and rip and tear –
She moved again without realizing it and he hauled himself to his feet. He was big, much bigger than she was, probably six and a half feet tall, maybe more, and wide at his shoulders and hips.
Didn’t matter. She could take him. Even if she was a lone wolf.