Authors: J. Rose Allister
Jaded Temptations / Hot Shorts
My Secret Werewolf Lover
My Secret Lover Series, Vol. 2
An erotic short story…
Shawna is camping all alone in the woods when everything she knows gets turned upside down by an injured wolf that stumbles into her campsite. Pity for the poor creature is quickly transformed into hot, ready desire when the wolf disappears, leaving behind a naked man who is fiercely attractive—and as insatiably aroused as she is.
Genre: Paranormal Erotica
Length: Around 10,319 words
Copyright © 2011 by J. Rose Allister
First eBook Publication: April 2012
Cover design by J. Rose Allister
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by J. Rose Allister
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: You do not have the right to distribute or resell this book without the prior written permission of the author. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred.
In retrospect, camping all alone in a desolate part of the woods had been a foolish and potentially dangerous impulse. Had I known the truth about what lurked out there beneath the full moon, I never would have set a single foot in those woods.
Thank God I hadn’t known.
Darkness had already fallen like a thick blanket by the time I’d finished setting up camp and gotten my fire going. The wood I’d gathered was slightly damp, so it cracked and popped loudly while I stuck a branch threaded with hot dogs into the flames. A weenie roast was perhaps a bit stereotypical, but the smell of them while fat sizzled in the fire really got my appetite going. Besides, I like the feel of a good wiener in my mouth, which in turn gets some other appetites going.
I glanced around at my handiwork as I sat on my folding canvas chair, holding my branch over the fire pit. The tent was a four-man wonder with a “bedroom” and an entry/living area that was high enough to stand up in. The camp stove was set up and ready for breakfast the following morning. Electric lanterns were lit and glowing with a fake flicker of flame that cast a golden luminance inside the tent. Inside, my bedroom would be snug and comfortable with the double-high air mattress and double sleeping bag with a fleece liner.
I knew I’d gone overboard for this trip. Just hauling all that shit out of the truck had exhausted me. All that work for one weekend was silly, but as I pulled my slightly charred, smoking weenies from the fire, I smiled tightly to myself. Camping was what my ex-boyfriend had said we weren’t allowed to do, so of course it was the first thing I did once I dumped his stuffed-shirt, self-important ass. So camping I went, and camping in style.
I stuck my branch into the dirt, twisting it back and forth until it sank in enough to hold itself upright while I grabbed a beer from my cooler and a hot dog bun from the food duffel.
“This, Shawna, is the life,” I told myself as I cracked the brew open and indulged a long sip. The bottle was still cold, and since the night was warm enough for a mere flannel shirt over a tank top, cold beer was good beer.
I slid a dog onto the bun and ate it plain, giving a deep sigh of satisfaction after I stuffed down a second one. An owl somewhere nearby hooted approval. The sounds of the woods enveloped me as I sat in that clearing, listening to cricket song and night birds and the faint rustle of a breeze through the trees. Overhead, an obscene number of stars dotted the midnight blue sky, though many along the edge of the tree line were doused by the brilliance of a bright, full moon. I could live out here easily. Much more easily, perhaps, than down in the unforgiving city, where a boring job and little joy would be my lot come Monday morning.
For several long moments, I lost myself in the whole nature thing, feeling like a vital part of the living, breathing woods rather than an intruder in it. Utter peace settled over me, and I sat perfectly still, staring into the undulating flames. I slumped down in my seat as the thrum of city tension drained from my limbs.
That was the last relaxing moment I would have all weekend.
A gunshot split the calm night wide open, scattering birds and startling me out of my drowsy trance. My heart was sputtering wildly as I sat there, wondering what the hell was going on. Hunting wasn’t allowed out here—I’d made sure to check before deciding on the location. And night hunting brought to mind all sorts of predators that I hadn’t really been thinking about when I’d decided to fuck my ex’s no-camping mandate.
That’s when I heard the frantic rustling sounds out in the woods. Something was coming. Fast.
I dropped my beer when it stumbled into the clearing, saliva dripping from its fangs and wild, golden eyes glowing almost as bright as my campfire. Erupting from my chair, I ignored the brew soaking into my shirt and pants while I watched the beast half-limp, half-run into my campsite. It was a wolf, as black and fierce and menacing as anything I had ever laid eyes on. It was also injured.
It saw me and stumbled over something, hitting the ground on its side. The animal contorted its body, whimpering in pain. Its rib cage heaved wildly from exertion as thick, red blood flowed freely from a wound near its shoulder.
There was no denying the swell of pity I felt for the poor creature, but there was no force on earth that was going to convince me to move toward it. Not until I heard the men out in the woods.
“Over here!” one shouted.
There was more rustling sounds headed my way, and I saw the wolf grimacing as it tried to get to its feet. Getting near a wild, injured animal would be suicide, I knew. Yet as the sounds of the wolf’s imminent demise drew nearer, I flew into action without thought.
“Come on,” I said in a quiet, urgent tone as I raced to the wolf’s side. “You have to get up.”
I leaned over the animal, whose muzzle lifted in surprise. Those fangs were close to my throat at this angle, and I jerked out of range, wondering when the hell I’d gone completely mental.
“Get up,” I said insistently, as though it could understand me. “You have to hide before they get here.”
A growl rumbled through its throat, but it hefted itself upright. I started forward and slapped my hand on my thigh, calling it forward.
“Come on,” I said like it was a pet dog. “This way.”
I disappeared into the opening of my tent, and when it followed me in with some difficulty, part of me was relieved. The rest was terrified. The sounds of the approaching men were clearly headed my way, however. I had to hurry.
“In here,” I said, parting the zippered flap to the bedroom section of the tent. The animal limped inside and, to my dismay, weakly hopped onto my nice, fluffy air mattress. Ugh.
“Now stay quiet,” I whispered, fully aware that I’d lost my mind for not only rescuing a deadly wolf, but talking to it. I zipped the bedroom flap shut and dashed out of the tent. I could see flashlights waving wildly in the trees not far off. My plan had been to sit in my chair like nothing had happened. Then I glanced at the spot where the wolf had fallen.
“Shit,” I muttered, and I snatched the hot dog branch from the ground. I rushed over and erased the wolf tracks from the dirt with the branch, effectively trashing my two remaining weenies. I kicked dirt over the small pool of blood the injured animal had left behind, too. I got back to my chair and stuck the ruined dogs into the flames in time to see a trio of great white hunters burst into the campsite.
They were typical sportsman types, right down to the camouflage suits, orange vests, and lethal-looking rifles. Guess I hadn’t been the only one burning a hole in my credit card over at Bass Pro Shop.
The men had the good grace to stop short and appear at least mildly remorseful that they’d trampled over my perfectly peaceful weekend.
“Where did it go, ma’am?” a tall, gangly man asked.
“Where did what go?” I asked innocently, pulling my now well-charred dogs out of the fire and stabbing the branch back into the dirt.
“The wolf.” This guy was so round and red-faced from the chase that I was shocked he’d managed to stay on his feet. “It must have come straight at you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I folded my arms. “Are you even supposed to be hunting animals out here?”
The third man was the scariest of the three. He had silver hair and sharp, narrow eyes. “This ain’t your normal animal we’re huntin’. Who’ve you got with you?”
My eyes flew wide for a moment, thinking at first that he’d heard something from inside the tent. Then I realized he was asking in general. And as the three men stared at me with their various-sized chests rising and falling in staggered, raspy breaths, I really didn’t feel like admitting I was out there alone.
“My boyfriend’s here,” I lied. “He just went out to take a leak and grab more firewood. He’s got a gun with him.” I added that last part just because it seemed like the thing to do.
“Shouldn’t be out here all alone,” the skinny one said. “Not with what hunts in these woods.”
I eyed the men pointedly and folded my arms. “So I see.”
“You’re sure you didn’t see that wolf come through here?” the fat one asked.
I lifted my arms. “Do I look like I just saw a wolf?”
The smart one nodded to the ground near my feet. “What happened to your beer?”
I glanced at the bottle lying in a puddle. Thankfully, a lie came quickly. “Some idiots ran in here waving their guns and made me drop it. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get on with enjoying another—and nature.”
I could see the sharp-eyed one scanning the ground for tracks. Thank God I’d had the sense to cover them up.
“Be careful now, you hear?” the skinny one said.
“Try not to send any stray bullets my way,” I snapped as they crossed through the camp. Rude bastards, cutting through my space without asking. As they passed the tent, I clenched my teeth and prayed the wolf wouldn’t make any sounds that would give it away. When the asshole hunters pushed through the woods on the far side, I waited a few beats while I contemplated my next brilliant move, eyeing the tent warily all the while.
What now? Maybe it had been too late to save the wolf, and it was lying dead on my mattress. Lovely. Or now that the hunters were gone, it would realize how hungry it was—right about the time I tried poking my head inside the tent.
What had I been thinking? The wolf had a bullet in it and was probably bleeding to death all over my sleeping bag. It was in pain, and I could do nothing for it. It would have been more humane of me to just let the hunters finish it off.
I heaved a sigh and wiped a hand over the beer-soaked thigh of my jeans. The front of my flannel shirt was wet, too, right through to the tank top clinging to my skin. If nothing else, I needed to change so I wouldn’t smell like a brewery. But that would involve going inside the tent. Maybe I could shuck off my wet things where I stood, scurry inside quickly, and return outdoors with my clothing duffel. The wolf was zippered into the bedroom compartment, so it wouldn’t be able to stroll right out—at least, not the normal way. Nylon wasn’t exactly a major obstacle for sharp teeth.
I kicked off my hiking boots and then wriggled out of my jeans. There was just enough chill in the air that peeling off my clothes would have been unpleasant if not for the crackling fire. Soon, I stood there in just my pale blue panties, ready to make a mad dash for the tent. Knowing what lurked inside froze me in place, though. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty about stripping down while there were hunters running around. What if they came back while I stood there, afraid to sneak into my own tent?
That thought prodded me forward. I crept over to the opening, stopping for a moment to listen for any sounds. Nothing. I stepped in as silently as I could, and I had to stifle another curse when I glanced at the vacant spot where I had dropped the clothes duffel upon first putting up the tent. I forgot that I’d moved it into the sleeping compartment when I’d dug out the plaid shirt.