His Bacon Sundae Werewolf (3 page)

The initial
instinct to fling it away was gone when Pat saw that he looked genuinely
apologetic. Then he realized he said the word “mate,” not lover or husband.
Just the werewolf term “mate,” but Jules didn’t look surprised by his odd
choice of words.

The beast inside
Pat stirred, shaking off a long period of sleep. Pat could imagine the wolf
raising its phantom head idly and opening its wide jaws to yawn. Shocked, Pat
let out a breath. His beast had lain dormant for so long that he’d thought he’d
lost it. The reason why he avoided pack meetings as much as possible was
because he couldn’t stand the look of pity in the eyes of the other wolves.

They pitied him
because he still hadn’t gotten over the loss of Desmond. Werewolf mate bonds
were for life, especially if the bonds were true. They were permanent and it
was unheard of, a wolf surviving after his mate was gone. However, Pat
suspected that they pitied him because he could no longer change shape.

An ache remained
in his heart at the thought of never being able to trade skin for fur when the
moon called. The thought of never being able to run, unfettered and free,
across the mountainside and forests of New Haven, howling and yipping with his
pack mates, drove Pat to the brink of suicide several times. It was only by the
constant watchful eye of his pack that he was still alive, only on the
insistence of the pack’s alpha and his second.

In the present,
feral and savage energy leapt from inside of him. It felt like warm steam surged
and crawled fearlessly up his body and into Jules’s arm. To his credit, Jules
didn’t recoil from the touch as Pat expected. Instead, a contemplative look
appeared on his face.

“That’s
interesting,” Jules commented.

His blue eyes were
uncommonly serious and he curiously tilted his head to one side, as if he were
only seeing Pat for the first time.

“It is?” Pat asked
hesitantly, withdrawing his hand.

What did Jules
see? Pat wished he’d stop looking. There was certainly nothing to see and the
longer he kept looking, the more Pat began to fantasize that he really was
interested in him. “Very. It was very rude of me to presume. Would you let me
make it up to you?” Jules asked in a strangely husky voice. A decidedly sexy
voice that sent tingles down Pat’s back.

“What? Look, man.
It’s
fine,” Pat said quickly.

Was it his imagination,
or were Jules’s eyes changing color? One moment they were blue, and the next…
No. I’m imagining things. I would’ve felt it
if he was a shifter. But then, I can’t really tell when my beast’s been lying
dormant for years.

“No. No it’s not.
Let me make it up to you.” Jules’s face looked so serious that Pat immediately
distrusted his intentions.

Chapter Three

When the handsome
man straightened up from leaning against his car and took a confident step
towards him, Pat was certain that this was all some cruel joke. Part of him
wanted to shove the other man away. Maybe even beat him to a pulp to show him
that he wasn’t an easy target, but another part of him was curious. That part
was curious to see what Jules would do.

“What the hell do
you think you’re doing?” Pat hissed, wary that Jules didn’t stop.

Instinct told him
that Jules meant him no harm, but his instincts were wrong before.

Pat sucked in an
uncertain breath. His back hit his car and Jules leaned towards him until their
clothes were touching. He badly wanted to rip the thin material of Jules’s
black shirt to expose his delectable tanned skin. How many times had he
imagined running his hands all over Jules’s body, and how Jules’s hands would
run over his?

What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he’s straight? Does he
mean me violence, or maybe I’m overthinking things and he just wants to
apologize? Damn it all. Why is he standing so close to me?

Close enough that
Pat’s sensitive werewolf
nose
could pick up all the
other man’s scents. The smell of tobacco on his old leather jacket, the smell
of the shampoo he used that morning and even the grease of the bacon sundae he
just ate. His nose also picked up something else….

“I’m not warning
you again, bozo. Don’t make hurt you,” Pat barked.

His heart began to
race. The rest of the world—the empty car park, the trees, and the occasional
people walking to the fast food joint, had faded.

All that mattered
was Jules and him. Pat let out the breath he was holding when Jules stood only
a few inches from him. Too near. The other man was standing too uncomfortably close
for his liking. At this distance, Pat could see the fine hairs of the stubble
on his cheek and the faint scar there. Another scar he wanted to lick just to
feel the sensation of Jules’s flesh against his tongue. Was the punch coming
now? Pat breathed hard.

Jules’s hand rose
and rested on the button of Pat’s jeans.

“Pat, did you just
call me a bozo? You should learn to relax a little, you know,” Jules said and
with one flick of his thumb, the button yawned open.

The zipper seemed
to sigh in relief when his fingers peeled it down with deliberate slowness. Pat
held his breath, still unable to believe what was happening.

Someone let out a
strange croak of disbelief and he realized with embarrassment that it came from
him. Jules used his other hand to yank down his jeans and underwear. Pat’s
half-erect prick sprang free and Jules’s fingers curved around his sensitive cock,
gently squeezing it.

A soft moan came from
Pat’s lips. The feel of Jules’s rough hands around the head of his cock—there
was simply no describing it. They felt sure, steady, yet gentle. His grip told
Pat that he’d never meant him any harm.

Before Pat could
protest or change his mind, Jules proceeded to give Pat the best hand job he’d
ever received. Jules began to work him, sliding his hand up and down,
increasing his rhythm at Pat’s low and appreciative moans.

In hindsight, Pat
knew a huge part of him didn’t want Jules to stop. It felt so good. Jules’s
clever hands felt so good and so…damnably right that Pat didn’t want him to
stop. Even though Desmond had been dead for years, a part of him whispered,
“betrayer.” Pat froze, but Jules’s persistent fingers magically drove the
thought away.

Pat leaned against
his car. He knew his eyes were reduced to half-slits of pleasure. Jules’s
intense blue gaze looked directly at him, and he was no longer overwhelmed by
the attention. In fact, he began to like it. It was apparent that the other man
was looking at him with hunger and ill-concealed pleasure and no one had looked
at Pat that way. Not since Desmond died.

His breath got
caught up in his throat as the momentum began to build. Just when he thought he
was near climax, Jules chose that moment to finally kiss him. The press of his
lips against Pat’s sent a scorching wave of desire through him, spearing him
until he was breathless and his body felt boneless.

Pat tore his lips
away from Jules for a moment. “I’m coming.”

This was all he
managed before Jules’s lips crushed his again, impatient and hungry for more.
Pat’s body shuddered as he came, but it wasn’t long before his cock was once
again willing and ready. The moment their lips met again, Pat felt the heat of
Jules’s longing pour down his throat like searing fire. With his hands now free,
Jules gripped his shoulders, pulling Pat towards him, and the mere press of his
naked cock against the denim of Jules’s jeans hardened it again.

Pat’s beast chose
that moment to rise from inside of him and look deep into the other man’s
heart. It didn’t just find a human heart, but another pair of amber eyes
staring back at him from the darkness. Pat felt the shock and realization enter
Jules’s body in the way the other man withdrew his hands and lips to stare at
Pat.

Only a true mate
was capable of looking into another wolf’s heart and from that single moment
their hearts remained exposed to each other like a door left open to another
stranger. Pat now knew a number of things he shouldn’t have about the other
man. Things he had no right to know and didn’t want to know.

He saw the shadow
that once hunted Jules, but now he hunted it, or at least he thought he did.
Jules had more in common with Pat than he realized, too. He was similarly
scarred by death and loss. Food and eating were sometimes the only things that
kept him tethered to the world, but unlike Pat, he was driven by revenge.

Revenge for
hunting the creature that once killed his mate. Pat could taste the fear in
Jules’s bloodied muzzle. Remember the pain in his flank as he helplessly
watched the shadow tear into his howling mate with relish. Revenge fuelled
Jules. It kept him moving from place to place. Jules was a lone wolf who masked
his scent and intentions with his easy-going personality, never revealing who
he was…until Pat saw him.

“I wish you didn’t
see that,” Jules said quietly and Pat knew that whatever could’ve happened
between them fizzled into nothing.

Pat unconsciously
felt himself lift up his jeans. If Pat was anything to Jules, he was nothing
but a distraction. A distraction for Jules until the lone wolf confirmed that
whatever he was hunting wasn’t in New Haven. Then he’d move on and Pat would
still be broken and alone.

Did he really
think Jules was going to enter his life like some prince in a convoluted fairy
tale? It was better to end this now, whatever this was. This way, Jules
wouldn’t be able to break his heart.

Suddenly, Pat
could no longer breathe. He felt another panic attack coming on.

“I need some air,”
Pat felt himself whisper, not waiting for Jules to answer. He stood and began
walking away.

He tried to
breathe in and out, but nothing worked. It felt like a hand had clasped itself
tightly over his heart, refusing to let go. Pat tried to recall some of his
meditation lessons, but his mind drew a blank.

“Pat, hold on a
damn second. We haven’t finished talking.”

Although Pat heard
the words, he refused to acknowledge them. Sweat rolled down his back despite
the fact it was autumn. His clothes felt stuffy and his chest felt like it was
on fire—and not in any good way.

“Get the hell away
from me,” Pat managed.

He could hear the
other man’s quickened footsteps fast approaching him. His legs began to wobble
with the sudden effort of being forced into a short jog. Couldn’t Jules just
let him be? Pat’s breaths came out in puffs. Gods, it felt like he was going to
die. When was the last time he ran?

The program
suggested taking it slow. To eat healthy first before beginning any exercise
regime, but Pat hadn’t even started on the eating healthy part. For one, he
loved carbs far more than he loved himself at the present, and he detested
vegetables. With all the junk his body lived on, it was no wonder that it
couldn’t even break into a run, let alone a quick walk.

Letting out a
frustrated growl, Pat hooked his fingers into his jacket and tore the fabric
with surprising supernatural speed. Now that his wolf was back…his wolf was
awake. The thought made him smile suddenly. Pat began concentrating on tossing
aside his human fat suit and it was unexpectedly easier than he’d expected.

Skin receded and hair
began to sprout into a sprinkling of rich chocolate brown fur. Bones began to
twist and Pat’s senses began to sharpen. He could hear the click of Jules’s
shoes behind him and the sharp intake of his breath. The other man was also
frustratingly shaking off his clothes.

Relief filled him
as Pat caught the sight of the woods ahead of him. Thank god the fast food
joint was on the borders of the town. New Haven was nestled securely on all
sides by woods and the sight of them always depressed Pat because he knew he
could never run in them on four paws again, but now…. Now excitement coursed
through his veins at the sight of them.

A triumphant howl
tore out of his throat. No
longer feeling
weighed down
or unbalanced by his human skin, Pat impatiently wriggled out of the annoying
pieces of human cloth that still clung to him.
He then
bounded like a bundle of energy into the cluster of trees and deeper into the
woods.

Chapter Four

Jules cursed when he nearly tripped over a pair of torn jeans as he
tried to catch up with his potential mate.

“For a fucking large wolf, you sure can run.”

Jules suddenly stopped short to catch his breath. He only managed to
get one last glimpse of the large, sleek, chocolate-colored beast before
collapsing on his knees just outside the entrance of the woods.
 

He’d noticed Pat ever since the first time he bumped into the large
man. Jules thought it was almost endearing the way the large bearded guy would
look away when Jules caught him sneaking glances. Jules just didn’t expect the
shy, almost sweet man who sat quietly at the back of the local Weight Losers
meeting to be a werewolf.