Shifting Michelle's Boundaries (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) (5 page)

Jack put his glass down and pulled out his cell phone. No messages from Craig yet. It was still early, though. Assuming the meet up went as expected, he’d probably be horizontal.
Hopefully all will go well.
Craig needed the fun.

It took almost twenty minutes before one of the shifters came over to Jack. The shorter of the two appeared on his right and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You smell weird,” he said. His breath stank of rum. “You one of us?”

Jack shook his head. “Nope.”

The man squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “I think you are.”

“Well, I’m not.” Jack shrugged the man’s hand off. “Sorry to disappoint.”

The man snorted and slapped his hand back onto Jack’s shoulder. A moment later another hand landed on his other. Jack glanced up from his beer to the mirror behind the bar. Blondey had come over, too, it seemed.

“You looking for trouble?” the new arrival said, his voice low.

“Whatever gave you that impression?”

“The fact you’ve been staring at us since you came in,” Shorty said.

Both hands squeezed Jack’s shoulders. If he was human it would have no doubt hurt like hell. Instead it merely annoyed him.

“Take your hands off me,” he said quietly.

“Or what?” Cool, sharp metal met Jack’s neck. Blondey growled. “We have the upper hand, here.”

The barman, Steve, moved his hand under the bar toward the baseball bat he kept there, but Jack shook his head. Steve nodded and backed away, then gestured to the bar, probably stopping Choker’s boys. Jack shifted his feet, hooking one leg through the rails of the bar stool.

“And what do you intend to do with this upper hand?”

“I think we’ll start with your wallet. Then you’ll tell us who your pack leader is. After that we’ll take a little walk.”

“Why do you want to know my pack leader is?”

“Because my pack is taking over, and we need to know who to kill.”

“I see. You realize I can’t let you do that, right?”

Shorty laughed. “Just what are you intending to d—”

Jack threw his elbows out to his sides, smashing into the chests of both men. At the same time he threw his head back and down, leaning under the slash of Blondey’s blade. The two men staggered back, and Jack straightened and spun around, the barstool still wrapped around his leg. It spun out to the side and smashed Blondey in the legs, knocking him to the floor.

Shorty came in fast, but Jack was faster. He dodged the first two punches, then caught the third and socked the man in the chin. He fell back and crashed into Choker’s table and was immediately grabbed by four of his gang. Jack turned back to Blondey.

The man was on his feet, though he kept all his weight on his right leg. A dark patch was spreading on the material covering his left knee.

“You’ll fucking pay for that,” the man spat.

His hands moved to the back of his pants and came back with twin butterfly knives. He sneered as he spun and twirled the blades, throwing and catching them with expert precision. Jack held his ground, watching the man come toward him.

“What’s the matter?” Jack asked. “Not man enough to fight without your little knives?”

Blondey laughed. “There ain’t no rules in fighting, asshole.”

“Oh. Well. In that case.”

As the man surged forward, Jack grabbed a half-empty whisky bottle from the bar and threw it with as much force as he could. The projectile smashed into Blondey’s face, turning his nose into a cloud of blood. He cried out and staggered back, dropping his knives. As he tried to clear the booze from his eyes, Jack moved in with an uppercut that took the man off his feet and deposited him five feet away on the hard floor. He didn’t try to get up.

“And
that
is why I want you in my crew,” Choker said from behind.

Jack turned to find the huge man holding Shorty in a stranglehold. He got the nickname for a reason.

“If I wasn’t happy where I was, you’d be my first call,” Jack said. “Now, I need a word with our friend here.”

“Huh. I’d better let him breathe, then.”

Choker let Shorty slump to the floor. He tried to stand but instead raised his hands when he spotted Blondey unconscious and bleeding.

“All right, man. I give up. Call the police.”

“Police?” Jack dropped to his haunches in front of the man. “Shifters don’t use police.”

Shorty’s face fell. “Then what are you going to do with me?”

“I have a few ideas, but my boss wouldn’t like it. So let’s start with some questions instead.”

“Fine.”

“First of all, since when is Mickey looking to take over?”

Shorty frowned. “Who the hell is Mickey?”

Michelle closed the hotel door behind her and tried not to skip as she made her way to the elevator. What a night! When she’d first set foot in the room she’d been unsure as to whether she’d make it past the small talk. That had been two hours ago.

She pressed the button for the elevator and waited, a smile on her lips, and a delicious ache beneath her still-moist panties. Craig had met every one of her wildest dreams about how the night would go. He was great looking, intelligent, confident, and knew exactly what he was doing in bed. The way he’d gone from a slightly nervous but pleasant man to a beast of a lover had her blushing even now. The door opened with a ping, and she headed down to the bar to find Alison.

Her friend was waiting for her at the bar. She looked distracted, even a little worried, but the expression melted into smiles once she caught sight of Michelle’s own smile.

“How did it go?” Alison said as Michelle sat beside her. “Judging by the grin you had some fun.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Michelle ordered a glass of white, then turned to her friend. “His name is Craig, and he was exactly like his picture.”

“Headless?”

“Very funny.” She took her wine and took a sip before continuing. “The head was just as attractive as the rest of him. He was friendly, too, and almost as nervous as me.”

Alison frowned. “That doesn’t sound that promising to me.”

“It only lasted until we got, uh, down to it.”

She grinned. “Tell me everything.”

* * * *

Craig climbed out of the hotel room’s shower cubicle and dropped onto the bed. He stretched out and let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. He’d had no idea how much he had needed a good fuck. And that was a
hell
of a fuck. His last few encounters had been few and far between, and none had exactly rocked his world. Michelle had certainly been different.

“Pity I’ll probably never see her again,” he muttered.

Still, that was the way of the one-night stand. They were freeing, in a way, since you could behave however you wanted, rather than having to behave how you thought the other person would want you to. Both people could act completely like themselves, and who cared if the other didn’t want a second date?

Of course as soon as he got back home, Jack would start hinting at meeting again and bringing up the idea of a three-way relationship. The idea was certainly appealing, in more than one way, but the chances were slim. Especially with someone who had only been looking for a night of sex.

Craig fumbled on the nightstand until he found his phone.
Speaking of Jack…
There was a text message from him, sent an hour ago.

Had some fun at the bar tonight. Need to talk about it with the pack, but it can wait till you’re back later tonight. Having fun? ;-)

So much for a night to himself. He hit reply and told Jack he’d be home in half an hour, then gathered his clothes and dressed.

He took the stairs on the way down, taking the opportunity to stretch the ache from his legs. There was nobody waiting by the reception, so he settled his bill quickly and headed straight out the door, walking quickly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to run into Michelle. It was more that he didn’t want to run into anybody at all.

At the end of the street he took a left and then another, taking him down a narrow alley that backed onto a restaurant. The smell of Italian food mingled with the scent of the nearby woods. The mix reminded him of his own nature. Part human with human tastes, and part wolf with wolf urges.

He’d picked the alley for a reason. Strewn amongst the alleys and quiet areas of the city were small lockboxes hidden from plain sight. Each had a combination lock and contained a small GPS chip with two buttons attached. They were lifesavers for shifters.

The idea was simple enough. A shifter would undress and put their clothes and belongings inside the box, close the lid, and shift to wolf form. Their stuff was stored in a safe place, and if they flipped the button, someone from the pack would swing by when they were in the area and collect the contents. Otherwise the shifter would collect them themselves when they were done with their run.

There were no witnesses, so Craig hunkered behind the restaurant’s dumpster and quickly undressed. He stuffed his clothes, wallet, and phone into the box and flipped the switch to signal for someone collect them. There would be a meeting tonight, and several shifters lived in the area, so he could grab his stuff from one of them then.

The change came on fast, wracking his body with pain of the like he’d never experienced before becoming a shifter. Every nerve ending screamed in agony as his bones, muscles, and flesh shifted to that of a large wolf’s. He restrained the urge to howl in pain, instead focusing hard on the change itself to speed it up. Within five seconds the change was complete, and his wolf form took its first steps since the night before.

He took another sniff of the night air. This time he picked up twice as many scents, but still none were a threat. He padded down to the opposite end of the alley and fixed his gaze on the woods that lay on the other side of a quiet road.

With one long bound he was into the tree line and headed for home.

Scents assaulted him as soon as his paws hit the grass. A deer had passed by in the last hour, a fawn not far behind. Any number of birds slept in the trees above, many waking at Craig’s passing. They needn’t have worried, though. Tonight was about stretching his legs rather than hunting.

His house lay to the east, some three miles of wood between him and the patio doors. It wouldn’t take long at his current speed, so he forced himself to slow a little to give him time to muse on the night before Jack started to finagle the sordid details from him.

Michelle had been almost as nervous as him, it had seemed. At least while they were both clothed. From her scent, she’d had a quick drink before making the trip to the hotel, and Craig couldn’t blame her. Once they’d gotten down to business, though, she became more confident, much like he had.

He had to admit that he certainly wouldn’t be averse to a repeat performance, if she was up for it. He made a note to e-mail her after the meeting.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that it took him a moment to realize he had sped up again, his primal urges having taken over. The house loomed into view, light shining from the glass back door.
So much for taking my time.

As he neared, Jack appeared and opened the door. No doubt he’d smelled him coming. The man had a grin on his face and an air of perfect calm. That meant one of two things. He’d had a nap or he’d beat some bad guy’s face in.

“Hey there, boy,” Jack said, dropping to his haunches. “Does goggie wanna bicky?”

Craig snarled in response, and Jack closed the door behind them with a laugh. Craig headed straight to the bathroom—he didn’t like shifting in front of people—then stepped back out into the bedroom once he was back in his human form and dressed in a bathrobe.

“So, what happened?”

Jack shrugged. “Couple of shifters making trouble. I’ll explain when the leaders get here.”

“Leaders, plural? Wow. Must be big.”

Usually Stefan dealt with the day-to-day stuff. They only involved Tate when it was something important to the running of the pack. Given that Jack had just come from a fight, it was likely something involving Mickey.

“So, how was it?” Jack dropped onto the sofa and threw his arms over the back. “Get some?”

“Got lots.” Craig joined him on the chair. “Hell of a night.”

“That’s what I like to hear. What was she like?”

“Cute. The kind of woman I could date. Little nervous at first, like I was. Didn’t last, though.”

“You think you’ll see her again?”

Craig shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll e-mail her later, see if she’s interested in another night or something.”

“How about going for a drink, or something to eat?”

“I don’t know about that. She only seemed interested in one thing.”

Jack nodded. “Still, worth a shot, right?”

“I guess. Just…” Craig shook his head.

“Just what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No, go on. What?”

Craig sighed. “Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”