Dead and Loving It (10 page)

J
ane rolled over and stretched. Then shrieked in anger as she fell three feet and hit the cement with a
smack.
She'd curled up on the base of the statue in Park Square, promptly gone to sleep, and then forgotten about the drop when she woke up.
Why don't I ever remember this shit until it's too late?
she thought, rubbing her skinned elbow.

She was pleasantly tired and would be for the next couple of days. It was always like that when she chased the moon. She also felt very new, almost husked out. Purified. Whatever.

She stood and shivered. Step one: find clothes. Spring in Boston was like spring in Siberia.

She marched up to an early morning commuter, a businessman obviously cutting through the park to get to the subway. He stared at her appreciatively as she approached, but she had eyes only for his cashmere topcoat. “How—” was all he had time for before she belted him in the jaw and mugged him.

She had made her choice as a wolf and would carry it out as a woman. She didn't have to wake up in the park, naked and alone. Or yesterday, in an alley. Or the night before that, beneath the docks by the harbor—ugh. She didn't think she'd ever get the smell out of her hair.

There were only a hundred safe houses in Boston, as well as acres and acres of woods owned by pack members. She could have romped there and woken to clean clothes and a hearty breakfast. But as a wolf, she had avoided all those places and her kind. The beast knew what she wanted. Now it was time to get it.

Of course, she didn't know where Dick lived exactly. It's not like she scribbled down the address with her paw on her way out the window. Luckily, there were ways and ways. She might not have a super nose like some of her kind, but the day she couldn't sniff up her own backtrail to a den was the day she'd jump off a fucking bridge.

It didn't take long, but her feet were freezing by the time she got there. Dick lived in a dignified brownstone condo that was probably built the year the
Mayflower
landed. She shifted her weight back and forth, stuck her hands in her stolen pockets, and looked up at his window. The glass hadn't been replaced; there was a large piece of cardboard taped into the frame instead. Guess it took time to order that fancy old-fashioned stuff. Except for the rumble of an early morning delivery truck, the street was quiet.

“'Scuse me. D'you live here?”

She looked. The delivery boy was holding three brimming grocery bags, and looking glum. “Yeah. Why?”

“Well, thank God. 'Cause I've been making deliveries for two weeks, but the last couple days nobody ever takes the food in, and it goes bad or gets swiped, and it's just a waste, is all.”

Ah, so that's where all the sumptuous feasts came from! Dick had the food delivered and cooked the meals for her.
Yum.
“I was gone for a while,” she told him, “but now I'm back.”

“Who are you?”

“I'm the owner's fiancée.” She shook her head. It sounded just as weird out loud as it did in her head. “Do I have to sign something?”

“No. He's got an account with us.”

“Then get lost.”

“Nice!” He set down the bags, slouched back to his truck, and pulled into traffic without looking, in typical Boston fashion. Which was good, because it wouldn't do for him to watch her break into the house.

“Well, shit.” That had been considerably easier said than done! Dick's front door wouldn't budge, and she was reluctant to break more of that expensive glass. He might not be so thrilled she came back. She had a vague memory of him grabbing her and begging her not to go, but it was more like a dream. She didn't trust her wolf-brain to factually interpret human emotions.

She smacked herself on the forehead. Dummy! Why was she trying to see him in the
daytime
? Even if she got in, he wouldn't exactly be a thrilling conversationalist. He'd be holed up in his bedroom, dead to the world—literally. Until then, she might as well chat with a rock. Still, it would have been nice to swipe some clothes.

Oh, well. The coat was plenty warm enough, and she didn't give a fuck how many people stared at her feet. At least she was in a big city instead of some rinky-dink small town. The yokels always loved something new to gawp at. She just had to kill another ten hours until the sun set. Thank God for the Barnes & Noble café.

R
ichard slumped in the chair beside the fireplace. He'd been sitting in this room every evening since Jane had left. It had been the last place he'd seen her.

He was starving, and he didn't care. He deserved to go hungry. And the thought of leaving—of perhaps missing her if she came back—was unbearable. What if she was hurt? What if she needed something and he was out assuaging his thirst?

Who are you kidding? She's gone, fool. You did everything but toss her out the window yourself.

True enough. Still, he waited. It was the only thing he could do. He'd never insult her by trying to find her and convince her to return. Return to what? An unnatural existence with a monster? And what in the world could he ever say to her? “Janet, dear, sorry about kidnapping you and raping you and keeping you and all but calling you a liar to your face, kiss-kiss, let's go home.” As the lady herself might say, “In a fuckin' pig's eye.”

“Dick! Stop with the fucking sulking and open the front door!”

Oh, Christ, now his inner voice sounded like
her.
Bad enough he was starving, but it appeared he was slowly going insane as well.

“You son of a bitch! You piece of shit! I trot my ass all the way back down here—twice!—and you keep me standing out here on this freezing sidewalk?”

He buried his face in his hands. How he missed her!

“I am going to rip your heart out and pin it to the bedroom wall with a swizzle stick! I'm going to yank the fixtures out of that stupid bathroom you're so proud of and shove them up your ass!”
Wham! Wham! Wham!
“Now let me in before I lose my temper!”

That's no inner voice, Richard. I ought to know…
I'm
your inner voice.

He jumped up so quickly his head actually banged into the ceiling. He barely felt it. He clawed for the doorway, raced through it and down the hall, down three flights of stairs, fumbled for the bolts and locks, and flung the door open.

Janet stood on his front step, flushed and out of breath. Her little fists were red from the cold and from banging his door. She was wearing a man's overcoat roughly six sizes too big for her, and three large grocery bags were at her feet. She was scowling. “Well,
finally.
Don't sulk on my time, all right, pal?” She stomped past him.

Like a zombie, he picked up the groceries and then slowly turned and followed her. She shrugged out of the coat and headed straight for their—for his room. He watched her naked form sway back and forth as she went up the stairs like she owned them. “Food,” she said over her shoulder on her way up. “I could eat a cow. In fact, I think I did, night before last.”

By the time he brought her tray to the bedroom, she had showered and toweled off. She strolled out of the bathroom and sniffed appreciatively. “Oooh, yeah, that's the stuff. I could eat
two
steaks.”

“They're both for you,” he said automatically. “Why…how…why…?”

“You sounded a lot brighter when you thought I was a liar.” She brushed past him and jumped for the bed, landing in the middle, lolling like a queen, and favoring him with a smirk. “Ah, the mileage I'm gonna get out of this. Let's start with your whole smug speech about how just because you're a vampire, there's no such thing as werewolves. That sound like a good place to you?”

“Janet—”

“Or we could touch on why it's not a good idea to kidnap people when they're on their way to an important meeting.”

“Janet—”

“Or we could go into all the times you asked me to tell the truth, and I did, and then you didn't believe me, and then you—”

He fell to his knees beside the bed. He had to grit his teeth for a few seconds to keep his jaw from trembling. “Janet, why are you here? Why aren't you with your family?” His voice was rising, but he was helpless to stop it. “Why didn't you head for the road and keep going? Why are you back?”

She frowned. “You're taking the fun all out of this. I've been looking forward to it for days. I need to see some major ass groveling, pal.”

He didn't speak.

She sighed. “What, I gotta get out the hand puppets? You haven't figured it out? Dick,
you're
my family now. I never want to go back there. Cape Cod in the summer—yech! Tourists cluttering up the roads, the beaches, and the mall—and you get in trouble if you eat them. Can't even take a little bite to discourage them from coming back—”

“Janet.”

“I'm serious! Anyway, if I stay with you, I don't have to go back. I didn't realize how unhappy I was with them until I fell in with you. I'm not pack anymore, I'm yours. I mean—if you want.”

“Is this a joke?” he almost whispered. “Is it a trick to get even? Because while I wouldn't blame you—”

“Oh, hey, I'm a bitch, but I'm not, like, a sociopath! That'd be a rotten thing to do. I love you, you stupid fuck. I'm not going anywhere. Except, of course, for a few days a month. Think you can put up with that, you undead dope?”

“I've been waiting almost a hundred years to hear those words. Well, not those exact words.” He reached out and pulled her down onto his lap. They sat on the floor while she cuddled into him like a bad-tempered doll. “Oh, Janet. I missed you so much. And I was such a fool.”

“Yeah, a real arrogant asshole.”

“Yes.”

“Completely unreasonable and jerkish.”

“And then some.”

“And you're really,
really
sorry.”

“So unbelievably sorry.”

“And totally unworthy of me.”

“In a thousand ways.”

“And you're gonna buy lots of food and get a house in the country so I don't have to hunt in the city.”

“The refrigerator is full, and I already have a house in the Berkshires.”

“Then that's all right,” she said, sounding quite satisfied. She stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes. “Um…the steaks are getting cold.”

“So am I.”

She giggled and turned so she was straddling him and then hooked her ankles behind his waist and kissed him on the mouth. Slowly, she cupped the back of his neck and brought his mouth to her throat. “Hungry?” she purred.

He thought he would have a seizure. She had come back—she loved him—she would stay—and now she was freely offering him her blood. Soon the Palestinians and the Israelis would make peace, and Janet would willingly enroll in charm school.

He sank his fangs into her throat without hesitation—he couldn't have held back if he tried. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest while her blood warmed him from the inside out. She was wriggling against him—now her fingers were at his zipper—now her warm little hand was inside his trousers, clasping him, stroking him. He groaned against her throat.

“You
did
miss me!” She shoved him back and he was happy enough to lie down for her. He stopped feeding and licked the bite mark. Her glorious breasts were jiggling in his face, and he couldn't recall ever being happier, not once in his long, long life.

She seized his cock with delightful firmness and raised herself above him. His arms went around her waist as he guided her to him.

Entering her was like slipping into luxurious oil. Her head tipped back, and she said “Ummmmm…that's good. I missed that,” to the ceiling.

He stroked her breasts, running his fingers over her firm nipples, marveling at the softness of her skin in contrast with her strength and stamina. She'd jumped three stories, and there wasn't a mark on her—and he was certainly looking! Not a bruise, not a scratch. She healed almost as quickly as he did.

“You're gorgeous,” he said.

“You're just saying that to get laid,” she teased.

“In case you haven't noticed, I
am
getting laid.”

She snorted and then began to rock back and forth. He noticed an odd, sudden reticence about her and wondered about it—then suddenly realized she had likely been on top when she crippled her first lover.

“For heaven's sakes,” he said with mock disgust, “can't you go any faster than that? Any harder? I'm about to fall asleep down here.”

She was so astonished she nearly fell off him. Then she made the connection and smirked. “Okey-dokey, dead guy. Here we go.”

They ruined the carpet. They didn't care. Toward the end, she was screaming at the ceiling and he could feel his spine cracking—and didn't care. Her legs were around his waist in a crushing grip, her arms around his neck, cutting off his air—and he wanted more. He told her so, insisted on it, demanded it, and then bit her ear. He could actually feel the temperature change within her as she reached orgasm, felt her uterus tightening around his shaft. That was enough to tip him dizzily over the edge.

They weren't able to speak for several minutes until Janet finally managed, “Oh, cripes, I think that should be against the law.”

“It probably is, in at least three states.”

“My supper's cold,” she complained, making no move to stand up and get the tray.

“So I've got a microwave. Why did I even cook it? I doubt you'd have minded it raw. A werewolf,” he mused, stroking her thigh. “Even after I saw the truth with my own eyes, I could hardly believe it.”

“That's because you're kind of a dumb-ass sometimes.”

“I have to take this from a foul-mouthed tart like you?”

She pounced on him and nibbled his throat. “I'm
your
foul-mouthed tart, so there.”

“Excellent.” He kissed her nose. “So…how do you feel about being an undead werewolf?”

She groaned. “Let's talk about it in ten years, all right? Let me get used to the idea of not being pack anymore first.”

“It's a date. Will they come after you?”

“I have no idea. No one's ever voluntarily left before. I doubt the boss would really mind—he's softened up since he got hitched—but I s'pose I should tell them I'm not dead.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“We've made our own pack, Jane. We're two monsters who do as they like, when they like. Everyone else had best stay out of our way.”

“Ooooh, God, I love it when you talk like that…”

“How about when I do this?” He leaned down and nibbled on her impudent nipple, running his tongue over the velvety bumps of her areola.

“Oh, God.”

“Or this?” He sucked hard and nipped her very, very lightly.

“Ummmmm…”

“I love you.”

“Ummmm. Me, too. Don't stop.”

He laughed and bent to her warm, lush flesh. “Not for a hundred years, at least.”

“We'll figure something out.”