SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (254 page)

She’d created me when she was a child, several years after her parents died in a devastating car crash. She imagined me, and I appeared to her. I was a kid then, too, just a few years older than she was.

These days I was a man: tall, dark, and leanly muscled. I was known as Smiling Seven. An odd name, but she’d given it to me, so I’d always treasured it just the same. Besides, mostly I was called Seven, and that suited me fine.

On this Southern California evening, I was one with the night, pressing my hand gently against her window. I liked being part of the darkness, the moon scattering its silvery beams down on me.

But I wasn’t going to stand out here until morning. I longed to see her, to be near her.

My sweet Abby.

I didn’t try to open the window. It wasn’t necessary. I could simply pop into her room, sort of like the “Beam me up, Scotty” thing, only I wasn’t from outer space.

Then again, I wasn’t from this world, either. I hailed from a meta-universe called Room 105. According to Abby, everything and everyone in it had been created by people like her, who were prone to using their imaginations. It was where I lived when I wasn’t with Abby.

105 was a bizarre place. To me, it was like Oz on crack or maybe the Mad Hatter ingesting molly. You never really knew what to expect. Of course, Room 105 wasn’t any more real than I was, but that didn’t make it any less my home.

Anxious to see Abby, I beamed into her room and stood in the golden-hued shadows. She’d left a nightlight on. She’d always been afraid of the dark. I moved closer. She was asleep, but the covers weren’t tightly drawn. At some point, she’d kicked them away.

She looked like a troubled princess, locked in a twisted fairy tale. She wore her white-blonde hair short and choppy, and she was small and frail. Sometimes I had to remind her to take care of herself, to wash her pretty face, to shower, to wear clean clothes. Her crappy grooming habits were a symptom of her illness.

Sometimes I was a bit of a mess myself. My medium-length brown hair looked as if it had been styled with an eggbeater, and I always had a dusting of beard stubble on my chin. I favored black clothes, leather accessories, and rugged boots. On top of that, I had a pierced tongue, my left ear was decorated with silver studs, and both of my arms were inked with full-sleeve tattoos, the artwork a hodgepodge of random shit.

But what could I say? I was a musician, and my creation and the development of my persona was inspired by a young Nikki Sixx. He was the co-founder and bass player for Mötley Crüe. He was also a brilliant songwriter, author, photographer, and radio host. Abby had chosen him because her mom had harbored a crush on Sixx back in the day. I didn’t look like him, but I had his bad-boy vibe, I supposed, with a schizophrenic dose of romantic hero tossed in.

Abby thought I was as hot as fucking sin and ridiculously handsome. She’d always had a bit of a thing for me, even when we were kids, but she’d been better able to hide it then.

I glanced down at the foot of her bed and noticed that Dingo, the dancing dog, was curled in a ball, keeping her company. He was another of her hallucinations. There were four of us altogether and she called us her “people,” regardless of whether or not all of us were human.

I was friends with her other people, but sometimes they got on my nerves, especially when I wanted Abby to myself. Dingo was cool, though. He didn’t talk or do anything annoying or abnormal. Abby said that he danced, but it was typical doggie stuff, jumping around in circles and whatnot.

He lifted his furry head and perked his ears at me. I put a finger to my lips, warning him to be quiet. Sometimes he could be rambunctious as hell. He was a Jack Russell terrier, and they were a feisty little breed.

The dog settled back down, and I sat in a chair in the corner and watched Abby. We’d never kissed or touched in a sexual way, but I wanted her.

Damn, I wanted her.

I’d been with lots of women in 105. I wasn’t famous, not like the rocker who inspired my creation, but my career was beginning to bud, and I got my fair share of long-limbed, sultry-eyed groupies. But recently, I’d stopped partaking of their favors. I couldn’t bear to fuck someone who wasn’t Abby.

I didn’t do drugs. I didn’t see the need. I was already a weird-ass guy, invented by a beautifully strange girl. No drug could ever expand my mind the way Abby could. But don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t a teetotaler. On occasion, I got bleary-eyed drunk and painfully maudlin. Other times, you could catch me on the happy side of the bottle, charmingly, laughingly wasted.

Tonight I was neither. Tonight I was blindingly sober and admiring the girl I loved.

Visit author Sheri Whitefeather’s website
www.sheriwhitefeather.com

for the link to download Beautiful Musician.

Remember this is a FREE novella!

WILD NIGHTS WITH A LONE WOLF

by Elisabeth Staab

Table of Contents for WILD NIGHTS WITH A LONE WOLF

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Dear Reader

About the Author: Elisabeth Staab

Books by Elisabeth Staab

One Week – Preview Chapter

Wild Nights with a Lone Wolf: Chapter One

“Lonely” sounded good. “Betrayed” had a better ring. “Fucking pissed…?” Yes. Agent Sherri Walker could sum up her feelings about her sham of a love life and her derailed career pretty damn well using that simple, succinct phrase.

She jerked her carryon from the rental and approached the Nogales Inn and Suites, a bright oasis in the muggy evening. A lingering black mood had her grumbling into her phone with every step. “Of course I’m not harboring bad feelings. I got used, demoted, and dumped in the desert. I’m over the moon ecstatic. Fire up the glitter cannons.”

On the other end, her former partner laughed. “I’m glad to hear you’re keeping a healthy attitude.”

“I don’t know what else to say.” Sherri moved to the side of a lit awning at the hotel entrance while she finished talking. “Everything went FUBAR in ways I couldn’t have even imagined, Lisa. I don’t know how to come up with a bright side.”

“You didn’t get fired.”

Sherri nodded, more to herself than anyone else. A motorcycle rumbled nearby in the lot, aggravating her headache and dividing her focus. “You got me there.” She raised her voice so her friend could still hear.

“Or killed.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten—”

“Look at who that man was in bed with, both literally and not so literally. You know damn well the chances…”

Sherri let the lecture fade into white noise. She’d heard it before. The way things had turned out, having come out of the whole nightmare alive didn’t feel like a win. Not on a bad day, and today sure hadn’t been good.

The motorcycle rumble closed in, drowning out the conversation. One of those sleek-looking Harleys pulled up with a flame-painted gas tank and an imposing specimen of man sitting astride. The guy appeared to be easily six feet, but it was the broad build that drew her eye. When he swung his leg over the bike and removed his helmet, she noted some I’m-too-sexy-to-shave facial hair, wide lips, and eyes so deep and dark a girl could fall in and get lost.

If a girl were prone to that sort of thing.

He ran a hand through his thick hair and gave a folded up bill to the surly-looking teenager smoking by the door. “Hey. Watch the bike, would you, kid?” He paused for a beat on his way inside, offering Sherri a grin full of immaculate teeth before walking into the hotel looking for all the world as if he owned the place. For all she knew, he did.

“Sherri, honey. Are you still listening?”

No. “Sure I am.”

“You sure as hell aren’t. I can tell when you’re distracted.”

Sherri straightened against the awning post, still tracking the man as he pushed through the entry. The back of his leather jacket showed a white wolf howling against a night sky. Some business travelers must have recently flooded in, because the foyer was crowded with overdressed people in jackets and skirts. He shouldered past them like they didn’t exist. “I always listen to you. I’m just tired. And pissed. At Ryan for screwing me over and at myself for not seeing the signs.”

All those business trips. He’d never wanted to make love. His eagerness to help her organize the files in her office. It had raised a red flag, but not fast enough.

“You loved him. And you turned him in as soon as you figured it out. Anyway, I met him and I didn’t see it either. He came off as a little stony, but so do a lot of guys in the bureau. Listen, you can’t let this eat at you. You’re in Nogales to get some R&R, right? Eat too much. Do some shopping in Tuscan, or road trip to Mexico. Sleep for a week if you want. Do whatever you have to do to get your mind off of this thing with Ryan. This new assignment in Phoenix could be a good change of scenery. Have you checked in with the field office?”

Sherri turned away from the hotel door, rubbing first the lingering ache in her chest, and then at the throb in her temple. “If we can set aside the fact that I wouldn’t be in Arizona at all if Ryan hadn’t screwed me over, then yes. I’m doing my best to look at this leave of absence as a chance for a clear head and some leisurely relaxation. And no, I haven’t talked to anyone. I got the name and phone number for my new supervisor. I called and got voicemail. From the message he sounds like one of those nasally pencil-pusher types. Probably a real straight arrow.”

She might welcome the structure of working for someone who embraced rules and regulations, if she weren’t certain that person would be peering over her shoulder every second. After her epic failure in DC, everything would be scrutinized.

“I’m sure you’ll get along great with everyone after you settle in.” Lisa’s tone softened. “I really hope the time off helps.”

“You and me both. If two weeks’ vacation doesn’t clear my head, I’m going to have to take up recreational drinking or get myself a quality sniper rifle.” Sherri frowned as a shuttle bus pulled up to the curb. “Hey, I better go. It looks like a large group is about to check in.”

“Good luck, lady.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

She hung up and headed in through the throng of men in tailored suits and women in pencil skirts, curious about the direction of the tower of muscles on the Harley. He’d disappeared out of sight though, and that was a disappointment. Truly, she had no business wondering.

Sherri summoned her flagging energy and marched up to the marble-topped check-in desk. “Hi there. I need to check in, and then I need you to point me in the direction of the bar. Please.” Sadly, she’d been so buried lately that she’d turned into a cheap date. Still, relaxing with a glass of wine sounded amazing.

The clerk, a perky and blond-ponytailed young lady, flashed a smile. “No problem, ma’am. Rough night?”

Try a rough six months. I helped send my ex to prison. My flight was delayed, my checked luggage is somewhere in Mexico, and my head is killing me
. She smiled at the effusive clerk. “I could definitely use a drink.”

“Well, we will get you squared away in a jiff.”

Sherri, always the girl with her head down, couldn’t remember ever being so perky. She shrugged and slapped her credit card on the counter. What she really wanted was an entirely new reality. In lieu of the impossible, she’d settle for some overpriced zinfandel and then a comfortable bed.

* * *

Asher Hughes gripped his half brother by the shirt-front. He smiled flatly, sniffing and scanning his former packmate. “It’s like this, Jojo: I don’t want to hear about you coming within pissing distance of one of my girls again. I don’t want you to look at them. I don’t want you breathing their air. If I hear you’re trying to poach for your illicit little escort gig again, I’ll rip you apart with my own claws. I won’t think twice about pack protection.”

Jojo held up his hands, his neck exposed in a gesture of surrender that Ash wouldn’t buy for all the cacti in the desert. “Come on, Ash. I’m only tryin’ to help earn these girls some extra cash. You afraid I’ll shut down your business? Think they’ll like working for me better?”

Ash jerked his arm, pulling Jojo halfway across the bar. A stack of shot glasses clinked and scattered. He looked around, but folks mostly knew to mind their own business.

Nobody moved except the refined lady with the pants and blouse, sitting across the room. She stood, hand going to her back. Musta been carrying.

No need to stir up trouble. Asher smiled at the woman and released his grip, giving her a nod when she finally eased—slow and wary—back into her chair. No doubt she’d keep on watching. Fine by him.