Suddenly Wolf(9)

By: Abby Blake

She pulled on their cocks, her hand massaging harder, their groans spurring her on to greater heights of need. Everything inside her tightened, her orgasm spinning closer, her breath catching in her throat as…

The fucking alarm clock went off.

Andrea practically leapt from the bed, her hands shaking, her insides quivering, her arousal damn near overpowering. She slammed a hand on the snooze button, willing herself to calm down, taking deep breaths, trying to relax even as the dream replayed in her head.

She glanced around the room, somehow convinced her dream lovers were here, were real. But the room was empty, and she was completely alone. Andrea lifted her pajamas away from her sweaty skin and shakily decided she may as well get her day started.

She was about to step into the shower when the rest of her dream, the part that had come before the incredible ménage scene, unraveled in her head. She lifted her pajama top, smoothing her hand over the soft skin, assuring herself that she hadn’t really been shot. But it had seemed so real—well, except for the werewolf part, because there was no such thing as werewolves—so she turned off the shower, pulled on her robe, and headed down the stairs.

If she’d been shot, there would be some evidence—blood, a spent casing, a bullet. She felt a little silly searching for something that obviously wasn’t there, but she could swear she smelled blood exactly where she’d been shot in her dream.

But that had to be psychosomatic. She’d only dreamed of being shot. There was no way she could smell blood where there wasn’t any. Yet her logic didn’t stop her from heading upstairs, pulling on some clothes, and scrubbing the area over and over.

Andrea scrubbed harder, trying to get the smell out of the wood grain of the floorboards. In her time as an officer in the LAPD she’d seen the evidence of enough violent deaths to know what should be there if she’d been shot. The fact that she was still walking around and felt better than ever—faster, stronger, her senses greatly enhanced—would certainly discount her theory.

Where the hell she dreamed up Isaac, Daegan, and Xavier from was still a mystery, but she took it as a sign that her libido was sending her a rather loud message. She’d been divorced for several years now. Maybe it was time to get back on the dating horse, so to speak.

Of course the fact that she’d dreamed they were werewolves just proved she watched too much television.

The doorbell to the store jingled, and Andrea quickly stripped off the gloves and dropped them into the bucket behind the counter. It wouldn’t be convenient to try and explain what she was doing to someone trying to buy jewelry.

When she turned around, she found the sheriff’s deputy standing near the front door. “Hi, Louise,” Andrea said, trying to sound casual despite the fact that Louise was one person she didn’t really want to talk to right now. She and Louise had been good friends ever since Andrea had moved into town, but right at this moment she wasn’t sure she wanted to try and explain why she was cleaning away imaginary blood. Considering she was still standing, it would take a shitload of arguing to convince a psychiatrist that she wasn’t crazy. Hell, she was beginning to question that herself. “What brings you here?”

“Jed Hawthorne,” Louise said with amusement in her voice. “He’s spent the last fifteen minutes down at the station blabbering about how he remembers shooting someone last night. He said it was you, but unless I’m talking to a ghost, I reckon he’s mistaken.”

“Ghost, yeah right,” Andrea said, trying to hide the note of panic in her voice. If Jed had been here, then was it possible that the rest of her “dream” had really happened, too? If werewolves were real, was it possible that ghosts did exist? What about vampires, shape-shifters, elves, sprites, leprechauns? Andrea’s head was starting to spin, and she struggled to come up with an explanation that didn’t involve the supernatural. “I…um…had three drunks in ski masks come in late last night. I figured one of them was Jed Hawthorne. They called the skinny guy with a beer gut Stan, but I’m not sure who the third one was.”

Louise looked concerned and was probably pretty annoyed that that Andrea hadn’t reported the attempted robbery.

“Did they have a gun?”

“No,” Andrea lied. Well, it wasn’t a lie, not really. If Jed had actually held a gun on her, then that would mean she had been shot, and since she had no wounds, she must not have been shot, so he must not have had a gun. Feeling better from her own rambling logic, no matter how flawed, Andrea tried to come up with a plausible explanation instead. “Jed did point his finger at me like a little kid playing cowboys, so maybe that’s what he remembers.” Hey, the theory worked for her, as long as she didn’t look at it too closely. “Anyway, I just figured it was a joke and let them stagger out of here.”

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