Free Marked By the Wolf (Werewolf Romance) by Mac Flynn Page B

glanced down at my worn blouse and dress pants. "I don't think they'd want to rub elbows with me. Mine aren't exactly clean," I pointed out.
    He laughed and waved off my concern. "You look great, fantastic, even. Besides, you're just the person we're looking for."
    I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
    The man coughed and gave me more than a cursory glance. "You're, well, how should I say it? Very well filled out."
    I frowned. "And that's supposed to make them like me how?" I asked him.
    "Let's just say they like to sink their teeth into a new acquaintance who's a little more real than the rubber implanted stick people," he replied. "So what do you say? If you don't like it we can always call you a taxi. There are plenty around at all hours," he offered.
    I sloshed my drink around in its glass and sighed. "Why not? What do I have to lose?"
    "That's the spirit! Come on, my car's out front." He took my hand, but I pulled it back.
    "Wait a second, I don't even know your name and you don't know mine," I pointed out.
    "Oh, sorry. It's Stanley Grieg. And yours?" he asked me.
    "Danica Lyman," I replied.
    He smiled and offered me his arm. "All right, Miss Lyman, if you would be kind enough to follow me I'll take you to a night you'll never forget."

Chapter 2
     
    I took his arm and he led me outside to a red sports car parked on the curb. Around us the city was alive with throngs of people, honking horns, and car exhaust. He opened the door, I slipped inside, and he got into the driver's seat. Once the doors were closed the interior was as quiet as a tomb. The whole world could have been in the middle of a nuclear war and we wouldn't have known. I'd never been in anything half as luxurious as this five-star hotel on wheels, and I squirmed in my chair.
    "Problems?" he asked me as the car jumped forward into the busy two-lane traffic.
    "I think your car's monthly insurance bill costs as much as my apartment," I commented.
    He chuckled. "Probably," he agreed.
    "So what do you do for a living?" I wondered.
    "Oh, I'm an errand boy." I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "I'm very good at my job," he added.
    "What do you deliver? Drugs?" I joked.
    "Not exactly. I'm sort of a go-to man for the people I'm taking you to. When they want fresh-um, members, they trust my judgment enough to go out into the city and bring them back somebody like you. Fresh blood, as it were," he explained.
    "Well, I've got plenty of that," I replied.
    He smiled. "Yes, I imagine you do."
    We drove several blocks through fancy boutiques and shops that dazzled the tourists and party-goers. The Bohemian elegance of the small businesses gave way to forests of office buildings and hotels that towered over us like imperious overlords. A few of the buildings had garages beneath them and into one of these Stanley turned. The garage sat below street level and was lit with sickly fluorescent lights.
    There were two dozen other cars around the main stairs into the building above us. Many of them were long, black cars with chauffeurs at the wheel reading large books to pass the long wait. There were a few other flashy vehicles, and a group of men stood at the bottom of the stairwell laughing and talking. Stanley helped me out of the low vehicle and over to the stairs.
    "That's a nice one you have there," one of the men yelled to us.
    Stanley glared at him. "Hold your tongue, you idiot," he snapped. He hurried us past and into the stairwell that led up into the building. "I have to apologize for my friend. He's a little drunk around this time of night," he told me.
    "Is he one of the people I'm supposed to meet?" I asked him.
    Stanley smiled and shook his head. "No, not at all. The people you're going to meet are near the top floor partying as we speak."
    We climbed the stairs to the lobby of the building. It was a tiled-floor, echoing kind of lobby with a glass front and doors. Stanley led me to the elevators at the back and we climbed in. Just as he said there were fifty floors to