Pucker Up (A Damsels of Distress Novel)
Read Pucker Up (A Damsels of Distress Novel) Online
Authors: R. A. Gates
Pucker Up
By R. A. Gates
Copyright © R. A. Gates 2012
Published by Ruthless Publishing
This is a work of fiction and any
resemblance to any persons living or
dead is purely coincidental. All rights
are reserved. No part of this book may
be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission
from the author.
This book is dedicated to my
Mom.
Thanks for always believing in
me.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
“What are you doing out here?”
Ivy asked her young friend sitting on the
back steps of the boarding house. The
wooden gate slammed shut behind her as
she strolled through the back garden, her
skateboard in hand.
Danny didn't answer. His body
shivered underneath his jacket, zipped
all the way to his chin to keep out the
April breeze. Being the youngest
werewolf in Salmagundi, he recovered
slowly after the regular transformations
and the last full moon was only two days
ago. She was thankful that the only
monthly transformation she had to deal
with was of the PMS variety.
Black Converse crunched on the
gravel path leading to the back patio.
She slid her overflowing backpack off
her shoulder and dropped it onto the
patio steps, cracking one of the old
planks. She stretched the kinks out of her
back.
Death by homework,
she thought.
Scooting Danny over, she sat
next to him. The late afternoon sun hung
over the mountains surrounding the
Southeastern Alaska town, casting long
shadows on the ground.
The orphan boy's hands trembled
as he petted Lieutenant Dan, the local
three-legged stray cat. Danny brushed
strands of blond hair out of his eyes and
looked up at her. “I’m in big trouble,
Ivy. He’s gonna kill me this time, for
sure.”
At first, she dismissed his
dramatics
as
typical
ten-year-old
behavior, but then tears threatened to fall
from his large, blue eyes and her heart
dropped into her gut.
“What happened?”
“You know that antique rug in the
parlor?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,
Athena
said
Mr.
McGregor sold it today, to some dealer
in
Washington
he's
visiting
this
weekend.” He stopped petting the cat
and wiped his sweaty palms on his
pants. “The thing is, about a month ago, I
accidentally spilled grape juice on it and
hid the stain under the chair so he
wouldn’t see it.”
He was right. Danny was going
to die when his foster dad found out.
She'd seen her penny-pinching landlord's
temper flare, especially after a few
drinks. And being a werewolf didn't
soften his disposition, either.
“Has he found it yet?”
“I don’t think so, but he’s gonna
see it when he moves the chair and then
I’m a dead man.”
“What did Athena say to do?”
She assumed he told the boarding
house's only other tenant about his
problem, considering he worshipped the
ground she walked on. What was so
great about Athena anyway? She was
merely a narcissistic bitch who used her
big boobs and Hollywood smile to
charm her way into, or out of, any
situation.
“She said, 'Sucks to be you' and
left for her date.”
Yep, that sounds about right
.
“Danny!” They both jumped
when Mr. McGregor's voice boomed
through the house and rattled the kitchen
window above them.
His whole body shook as he
moaned into his hands. He had never
gotten into any real trouble with Mr.
McGregor because everything always
seemed to be blamed on her. Even
though she was fearful for Danny, a
small part of her looked forward to
seeing someone else get punished for a
change.
“Come on. He’ll just get madder
if he has to come looking for you.” She
nudged his elbow and stood. Pausing at
the screen door, she waited for him to
follow.
He reluctantly dragged his shoes
along the scuffed wooden floor of the
old Victorian house towards the scene of
the crime. On the way, he mumbled a
little prayer to spare his life.
Talk about
overreacting
. But when they entered the
room, Mr. McGregor's cold, dark eyes
narrowed into slits as they homed in on
Danny.
Or, maybe not
.
Every line etched in the older
man’s face from decades of harsh
transformations deepened under his
scowl. His chest rose and fell with each
controlled
breath.
“Do
ye
have
something to tell, laddie?” His Scottish
brogue was low and slurred, but the
anger was loud and clear.
Danny froze. His eyes grew wide
and his face paled two shades. He
looked like he was going to throw up.
Swallowing hard, he raised his chin to
look Mr. McGregor in the eye and said,
“Ivy did it.”
That little shit!
She opened her
mouth to set the record straight, but by
the way his legs shook in his jeans, she
couldn’t do it.
Throwing a glare at the little liar,
she faced Mr. McGregor. “Yeah, I
ruined the rug, sir. I was running late for
work, so I covered it up thinking I’d
clean it later. I must’ve forgotten about
it. Sorry.” She stood there, completely
still, trying not to set off his hair trigger
temper bubbling under the surface. Even
breathing too loud seemed risky as she
waited for him to speak.
Mr. McGregor regarded them
both for a few moments, one bushy
eyebrow raised, before uttering a word.
“Danny, go to yer room, and shut the
door behind ye.”
Danny glanced at her, uncertainty
in his eyes.
Oh sure, now you worry about
me. Where was the concern when you
threw me under the bus?
She nodded
her head, keeping her thoughts to herself.
He stepped away, watching her until he
disappeared around the corner.
Mr. McGregor loomed before
her, like a bull before a matador, staring
her down. His scotch-soaked breath
hung in the air between them like a toxic
cloud. She had to close her mouth to
keep from gagging.
“Ye did this?”
Her eyes followed his meaty
finger pointing to a large purple spot on
the very beautiful but very
ruined
Oriental rug. She expected to see a spot
about the size of a dinner plate, at the
most. But no, Danny must have spilled
the entire bottle of juice to get a stain so
large. It was at least two feet across.
“Yes, sir.”
He stood there, staring. The vein
at his temple throbbed close to the point
of bursting and his worn face was so
red, he looked like he'd have a heart
attack right in front of her.
She’d met younger, stronger
werewolves in the past, but there was a
feral glint in his eyes that twisted her
stomach. Her fingers twitched, eager to
grab the silver stake she would normally
keep on her belt. Too bad it remained
hidden in her backpack on the porch.
Silver wasn’t allowed in the boarding
house.
“Are ye trying to make me look
the fool? Do ye think I don't know the
boy did this?” Foam gathered at the
corner of his mouth as the tone of his
voice took on a dangerous growl.
Her body tensed as adrenaline
sped to every muscle, preparing to put
her childhood years of combat training
to use. Or at least she hoped. It had been
over a year since her last fight and she
was rusty.
His nostrils flared with each
restrained breath as he waited for her
reply. Should she stick to the lie or fess
up? Deciding that a noncommittal,
middle ground was her best bet, she
shrugged.
Suddenly, air heaved from her
lungs as her body was slammed
backwards into wall. Being drunk hadn’t
slowed him down at all. A dense fog
invaded her brain, shutting down any
coherent thought. When the fuzz cleared
a moment later, she became aware of his
forearm crushing against her windpipe
and her right wrist was pinned above her
head. Fear flared up inside her when
repeated attempts to draw more than a
trickle of air proved impossible.
Don’t panic, don’t submit
.
That’s what he wanted. Gathering
courage, she pushed down the hysteria
that sloshed at her calves like a rising
tide, threatening to swallow her whole.
She defiantly maintained eye contact
with the crazed man, daring to call his
bluff.
“Ye think that ‘cause yer a witch,
ye can disrespect me?” He leaned
forward, pressing into her throat even
more. “I will not be lied to in my own
home.”
An excruciating minute passed
before she succumbed to the panic she
bravely fought off. Frantic fingers
clawed at his face. Too bad she had
already gnawed all her nails down to
stubs. Changing tactics, she pushed the
heel of her free hand at his chin,
stretching his neck. Her hand slipped
when he wretched his head sideways
and the side of her wrist scraped across
his teeth, nicking the skin. How much
longer could she hold out?
She punched and kicked at any
and every part of him. Then, a warm
buzz, like a hive of angry bees, swelled
inside her. Her magic ached to explode
and end her torment. Gathering the will
to ignore her choking, she placed her
palms on his chest and released all the