Free 2: Leer - Pack Takeover by Carys Weldon

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter One
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    I thought Leer was sexy as hell the first minute I laid eyes on him. I had no idea he’d come straight from the devil’s den and would take me to hell and back before it was all said and done.
     
     
    I don’t generally hang out in bars, but it was a Friday night. I was lonely. The bar was within walking distance of my downtown apartment. I figured it wouldn’t hurt.
     
     
    Boy, was I wrong.
     
     
    The place I went to was one of those eclectic little bars that yuppies hang out in. Harmless enough looking clientele. You know?
     
     
    I scanned the place--right inside the door. I wasn’t in the mood for putting up with creeps. None in sight. I was restless. Almost like a part of me knew something was going to happen. You know the feeling. You can’t put a finger on it, but you know something’s in the air?
     
     
    I sidled up to the bar, ordered a long-necked bottle, no glass. I like to pick at the label when there’s nothing else to do. It took all of about five seconds to get it in hand, swivel and wish I hadn’t bothered.
     
     
    There were no creeps and no possibilities either, as far as I could see.
     
     
    I sipped my beer, did the calculations on how fast I could get it down and make the distance back to my place. I wondered idly what was on TV on Friday nights. I plucked at the corner of the gold label.
     
     
    Leer walked in about then. No. Let me clarify that. There was no doubt when Leer walked in. Every woman in the place perked up. All heads jerked. No kidding.
     
     
    He had something. That certain something. At the time, I thought it was the indefinable something you hear tell about. I now know--he was sweating pheromones. The kind that you can’t put a finger on, you can’t bottle and you can’t fight.
     
     
    The kind that werewolves put out.
     
     
    Okay. You’ve probably never met a werewolf. Thought they were fiction. Right? Yeah, well, me too. Until I met Leer.
     
     
    But I’m a believer now.
     
     
    I’m not only a believer. I’m a wolf worshipper. Not in the religious sense. No. I still believe in God. But now I also know for a fact that there are demons of the night. And there are creatures that I never dreamed of--lurking like demons--who are really heroes. Misunderstood heroes. Leer was one of them.
     
     
    I suppose I got lucky that night. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it. To each his own. I know it was my destiny.
     
     
    The only seat in the bar that was open was the stool next to mine. Well, that and one clear at the far end. Leer swaggered over directly toward me, like he had his radar zeroed in. I--and every other woman in the bar--watched under hooded lids. It was hard to hide the fact that we were all sucking in air, trying to drag it in as fast and deep as we could.
     
     
    When he planted his backside on the seat, rested a Popeye-sized forearm on the bar and nodded. “Gimme a beer.” He didn’t sound any different from any other guy in the place. His voice was deep, like it came from his chest, but that was just cool. Ya know?
     
     
    I felt suddenly giddy. I wanted to giggle. I wanted to cling. I wanted to slip my arm through his and look adoringly up at him--and tell him--what? I had no idea. But the urge, the feeling of belonging with this guy, was already so strong--and I know, it doesn’t make sense.
     
     
    Instead of going impulsive on the guy and getting shot down, I settled for taking a swig of my beer, licking my lips, and eyeing him out of the corner of my eye--watching him smile and nod at the bartender as he picked up his drink. Leer has some funny habits. I saw him reach his tongue out and taste the beer before taking a sip. I thought that was odd. Now I just think--damn--is this guy all about sex or what?
     
     
    He does a lot of other things with that tongue, let me tell you.
     
     
    So, anyhow, he ends up downing about half of that beer before he sets