The Accidental Werewolf 2: Something About Harry (Accidentally Paranormal Novel) (17 page)

It was goddamned uncomfortable, and as the moon rose while they’d eaten dinner, full, buttery soft, pulling at him like it pulled the tide, his need had become almost unbearable. Mara was the last person he wanted close because of this strange, pulsing lust, yet the only person he thought he’d die of wanting if she wasn’t near.

There weren’t really any orgies, but there was uncontrollable lust, compounded by the fact that he hadn’t grown into this were lifestyle like the others. More adjustments to be made.

Followed by more anger because he had to adjust to anything. Mara had felt the brunt of his brooding silence at dinner while he stuffed himself with a savory sirloin stroganoff, a porterhouse, and an entire pot roast lathered in rich wine gravy.

Shoving all that food down his throat only minimized this hunger Mara spoke of by a little, but it did successfully keep him from dragging her across the table and burying himself deep within her. How did all these male werewolves manage to control that, even if their lust was only half of what he was experiencing?

“Okay, Harry, here we go,” Marty said with a smile, reminding him he had to protect Mara from the others finding out. “Close your eyes. Feel the pull of the moon. Let your limbs go limp, and breathe with me. Trust me, Harry.”

He took a deep, long breath, fighting the shudder of it, hoping to relax to the sound of Marty’s instructions, when a searing lick of flames accosted his gut. He fell forward, hissing as though he’d been burned from the inside.

Marty stroked his back, her fingers, though meant to soothe, like nails on a chalkboard. “You’re fighting out of fear, Harry. It won’t be like last time if you don’t let it. Please trust me.”

He pulled more air into his lungs, forcing himself to stand erect, hearing Marty’s words become warbled and distant. Fighting to find this focus they talked about.

Another slash of pain ricocheted across his face and tore at his neck muscles, making him reach for the tree trunk to keep from screaming and humiliating himself in front of two women who did this like they were changing their clothes.

He gripped the trunk of the tree, his fingers clenching a branch, shredding it, the pine needles stinging his hands.

Marty bent down low, her perfume, floral and light, mingling with her unique scent. “You’re fighting it, Harry. It’s because you’re angry you’re a werewolf. You don’t want this. You want everything to be the way it was. I get it, but the harder you fight, the harder getting to the end result will be.”

Yes. By fuck. That’s exactly what he wanted. He wanted to go back to his average, if not boring and predictable, life.

The tearing of his biceps followed that thought and more slashes of white-hot agony, ripping at his flesh. It was like being stabbed with a poker freshly pulled from the fire over and over again.

“Too bad, Harry!” Marty’s whisper came from some far-off place. “You’re a werewolf now. There’s no going back. Own it, Harry,” she sang in his ear.

He fell to his knees hard, snow and leaves swirling around him, his body twisted and misshapen. One glance at his hand, almost entirely covered in fur, gnarled and forming the shape of a paw, made him growl, low and fierce.

“Harry?” Mara called. Kneeling down beside him, she bracketed what was left of his human face. “Shhhh. Listen to me,” she soothed, stroking his hair, her lips moving slow and precise. “Listen and watch. Listen to me,
hear
my voice.”

He stopped struggling quite so hard, the tight pull of his tendons easing ever so slightly, his spine no longer like the stretch of a tight bow.

“Did you know that you have a third eyelid? It’s called
plica semilunaris
. It’s a tiny fold of tissue at the inside corner of your eye. I read that it’s the remnants of a nictitating membrane, most commonly found in birds, fish, and reptiles. Crazy, right?”

That caught his attention. Really? Shut the front door. He had no idea. Harry moaned, more because she was red-hot when she was spouting obscure data than the fact that he was in pain.

Mara’s hands continued stroking him, soothing, calming as she spoke. Her hair brushed against his face, soft and smelling of rosemary and mint. Her breath made clouds of condensation in the almost-below-freezing temperatures. “And, ohhh, just the other day I was on Twitter. I follow
UberFacts
, and I read the first couple to ever be shown in bed together on prime-time TV was Fred and Wilma Flintstone. Yabba-dabba-do,” she said on a laugh seconds before she let go of him with a gasp.

Just like that, Harry rolled away from her and rose on all fours, stretching his neck, testing his new body, sniffing at the air, taking in the delicious scents of the world around him.

“Well, Harry Emmerson,” Mara murmured, husky and deep into the lush velvet of the night, her hair merely an outline of shiny folds against the backdrop of darkness. “Look at you.”

Striding toward him, she rolled her shoulders and her flesh began to melt away until she, too, was in her were-form.

He hadn’t been able to appreciate the beauty of it the other night in his kitchen when she’d become so angry with him. He’d been too caught off guard. Too freaked out.

But tonight? Jesus. She was beautiful. Sleek, her coat thick and shiny just like her hair, her eyes glowing and elongated, her stride confident and lithe.

Turning her head, she lifted her muzzle and howled into the rising wind, the majestic tilt to her ears, the sweet caress of her tone, all mesmerizing him.

She called to him, trotting off into a light jog, encouraging him to follow.

And he damn well would.

But he forgot he now had four legs.

So of course he did what he always did when Mara had him transfixed.

He fell.

Over a rock, cracking his jaw on the sharp edge.

Yeah, you got this, right? Such a stud, Emmerson.

CHAPTER

11

Mara burst through her cottage door, invigorated from her shift and Harry’s triumphant foray into his transformation. Harry burst in behind her, almost knocking her down, his laughter rich and hearty.

He grabbed her at the waist to steady her so she wouldn’t fall into Nina, and she found herself leaning back into her pretend boyfriend’s embrace.

Nina stood waiting for them in the middle of the living room, her eyes marred with worry. “When you two ass sniffers were out in that frozen tundra of the great beyond, all runnin’ around like you were auditioning for
Wild Kingdom
, did you see my Carl?”

“Wasn’t he with Darnell?” Harry asked, pulling his gloves from his hands and laying them on the bleached brick of her hearth.

Nina nodded, popping her lips. “Some kinda goddamn babysitter that demon is. He fell asleep and lost the little fucker.”

Harry began to pull his gloves back on. “We’ll go look for him.”

Mara almost sighed at his offer. Chivalry. It wasn’t dead.

Nina dismissed him with a wave. “Nah. Darnell’s out there looking. You stay here. After all that hills-are-alive bullshit, it bein’ your first time and all, you need to rest, and you need Short-Shot to stay and keep you from acting on any impulses.”

Mara winced—Harry wasn’t the only one who might need to fight impulses tonight. Thank goodness for her vivid imagination and a crazy apparatus called Bendy Bob.

Nina took long strides toward the door, leaving her image a blur. Popping open the front door, she stuck her head out and yelled, “Carl? Where the hell are you? Swear to sweet baby J, you’re gonna get grounded!”

At just that moment, Marty stuck her head in the kitchen door, strangely unlocked. Mara could have sworn she’d locked the back door before they’d left . . .

Marty peeked around the kitchen doorway, shaking her hair out with a wide smile. “Oh, Harry, you were magnificent tonight! Bravo!”

Harry took a small bow, clearly pleased with himself. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate the kindness you’ve extended to me—an outsider and all.”

Marty waved a white-gloved finger. “Oh, no, no, no. You’re family now, pal. Love it or leave it, you’re one of us. We just have to explain that to my husband.”

All the joy of her shift seeped right out of Mara’s body and was replaced with that jittery nervous twitch she was developing. “We have to tell him soon, Marty. I was a nervous wreck all day today. I’m a crappy liar. You know it, I know it, and my scent on Harry is only going to take us so far before the others will be able to distinguish. Besides, the guilt is eating me alive.”

“Then let it feed, young lady,” Marty said, crossing the room. “No way am I giving you up. The hell. I’m not letting your brother pull some sort of pack-law move on this. He did turn me into a werewolf, didn’t he? Oh, yeah, he did. So there’ll be no stone throwing in my family. He started this. Now, I just came to check on you two and be sure everything went well after I left. Give me a hug, and no more crazy talk. I’ll figure this out. Just give me some time, okay?”

Mara went willingly into Marty’s vanilla-and-snow-scented hug, squeezing her extra hard. “Okay.”

As Marty pulled away, she cocked her head in Harry’s direction. “How do you feel?”

The fire Darnell had lit before dinner blazed, its shadows playing on Harry’s stiff jaw. “Unwillingly exhilarated.”

Fuck chivalry. It had only been momentarily alive before Harry stomped all over it with his grudge. Mara fought the roll of her eyes, throwing her knit hat at her overstuffed armchair. She’d been trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. It had, after all, only been a couple of days. But for all that was holy, couldn’t he just enjoy the moment?

Marty giggled, burrowing her chin in her fake fur coat. “Then you’re right on track. But it gets better, and look at it this way, you got all of us in the process. Anyway, I’m out. I need to get back and spend some time with Hollis and Muffin.”

“Thanks again, Marty,” Harry said, almost smiling.

Marty gave them a wave before heading toward the front door.

“Did you fucking see Carl on the way in?”

Marty shook her head. “Not a fucking Carl anywhere.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “Jesus, he’s like a greased cat. He’s always wandering off.” She pulled Marty out into the darkness. “C’mon, help me find him. Two noses are better than one. We gotta find my flippin’ zombie before one of your crazy pack eats him.”

Marty followed Nina out into the night, closing the door behind her, leaving them alone for the first time since this had all begun.

Harry shuffled his feet, stooping to unlace his work boots. “Marty’s nice.”

Now she was grudging. “Most
werewolves
are.”

He dropped his shoes by the fire to dry, giving her a fed up expression. “Look. I told you, while this is what it is, and I have no choice in the matter right now, I don’t want to be one of you.”

Her mouth dropped open in outrage. She was tired of his werewolf blaming. Jerk. And no more of the poor Harry, he’s just hormonal bullshit to excuse his rude behavior. “One of
you
? What the hell does that mean?”

He shrugged his wide shoulders, shaking off his down vest like he hadn’t just insulted her family. “It means that it was pretty cool what just happened out there, I appreciate everything you and all of these people have done for me, but I’m still going to try and find a way to reverse what’s happened.”

Zing. Her temper shot through the top of her head. Tearing off her jacket, she dropped it on the floor and rounded on him, backing him into a corner. “You know what, Harry? You go right ahead, genius! Nay, I
dare you
to try and find a way to reverse this. I’m tired of you insulting
my
people, my family, who’ve been nothing but kind to you, like we all have some incurable disease, you jerk!”

Harry remained unruffled and unapologetic. “I can’t wrap my head around why you’re insulted. I’m not insulting you or your family or even your way of life. I’m just stating a fact. It’s impractical for me to remain a werewolf. That’s all there is to this.”

Yet, Mara was still insulted. Rather than respond, she glared at him.

“And seeing as you found a way to create a werewolf, why can’t I find a way to uncreate one?”

“Because it takes an open mind and a whole lot more smarts than you’ve got!” she yelled up into his face. Arrogant jackass.

Harry’s eyes glittered, his chest rising and falling. “Did you just call me dumb?”

“No!” she shouted, rising on tiptoe. “I called you not as smart as me.” So there!

His chest puffed out when he leaned down and jammed his face at her. “What’s your IQ?”

She made a face at him. “What are we using as our source of measurement, your penis?”

“Are you now attacking my manhood?” He virtually squealed the question as if it were incomprehensible she’d do such a thing. Or maybe it was just that she was behaving like a child. Whatever.

“You have to have one to attack!”

Now Harry’s temper was flaring, too, his nostrils following suit. She smelled his anger, wanted to bathe in it for the insults he kept hurling her way. “Quit the low blows. How am I less of a man because I don’t want to be a werewolf, Mara? Because I don’t want to have to figure out a way to explain to the kids about full moon jaunts, fevers, inhuman amounts of consumed beef, eternal life, and the fact that Uncle Harry wants to have his way with the nice Miss Mara until she begs for goddamn mercy?” he seethed, then pulled up short.

His face no longer a hard mask, but sheepish.

“Shit. I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Mara’s mouth was dry. She licked her lips with a nod. “You even spit a little, too.” It was just the full moon calling. He’d get over it.

He leaned in even closer. “Really? Where?”

She reached upward, forgetting she felt insulted and attacked, and wiped at the corner of his lips. “Riiight there. Okay, all gone.”

Harry’s mood swung wide and wild again when he caught her thumb between his teeth and wrapped his arm around her waist, crushing her to him. “Mara?”

“Harry?” she whispered, her breathing coming in gasps.

“I have to,” he said between the sudden clench of his teeth.

Mara’s mood did the same. Her hand somehow ended up on his chest. The insane urge to dig her fingers into his pecs verging on desperate. “I have to, too.”

Harry hoisted her up until her feet were off the ground and his rigid cock rested at her cleft. Even through his jeans, he was stiff and ready. “You’re supposed to teach me not to give in to my impulses. Do it. Do that
now
, Mara.” His demand was husky, tight with restraint, riddled with his fight for control.

All of her pent up emotions, her desire for Harry, her days and nights of fantasizing about him came down to one thing. She could either fulfill the fantasy and recognize that’s all it was, all it would ever be, or she could “teach” him to control his inner sex demon with breathing techniques and finding other vices, like a
Deep Space Nine
marathon.

Deep Space Nine
—sex with Harry.

Damn. You. Choices.

Harry’s lips were but a half-inch from hers. “I think this is where you tell me not to give in, Mara
. Say it. Say it fast
,” he ordered, his tongue striking out to caress the corner of her lip, his hot breath fanning her face.

Her chest became tight, the blood in her veins throbbing, leaving trails of white-hot heat as she warred with her primal urges. As hard as she tried to force the words from her lips, she couldn’t say it. Full moon lust induced or not, she wanted this. She’d always wanted this. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him.

Harry. All of him.

Harry hiked her higher, backing them up until she was pressed against the wall in her living room. Now his lips touched hers, just the hint of a graze, but it made her rear up against him, fighting the natural urge to grind against him. It was painfully sweet and sharply hot, gripping her and holding on tight.

Her chest heaved up and down, rising and falling with harsh gasps for breath.

When she squirmed, Harry’s rigid flesh rubbing against her, her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head with the exquisite pleasure the sensation wrought.

Harry’s groan came out on a gasp as he tried to process what was happening to him in words. “I feel totally out of goddamn control. I know it. I can feel it. But it’s almost like I don’t give a damn. Jesus, every nerve I own is on fire right now. What if I hurt you? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you, Mara.”

Mara’s breathing was ragged when he thumbed her nipple through her shirt, drawing it to a tight peak, but he pulled his hand away as if she’d bitten him. “I can handle it. Promise.”

His lips took a tentative nip at her neck and her spine began to melt. Yet, he planted his hands flat on either side of her against the wall. “I don’t know if
I
can,” he growled, the scrape of his nails against the wall grating in her ears.

“Should we see?” Mara clung to his waist, her feet hooked at the ankles, her arms tight around his neck. She was baiting him, encouraging him, and she was going to do it without regrets.

“I can’t promise flowers and candy the first round.”

“I have allergies. Not a huge fan of sweets.”

His body trembled against her, rock-hard, rippling, fighting for control. Yet, still he managed to say, “Have you tried that new allergy medicine everyone’s been talking about?”

“Do you care?”

His chest continued to rise and fall, the friction of it delicious, teasing her nipples through her shirt until it was an all-out effort not to scream her pleasure. Harry shook his head and huffed out, “Not even a little. Not right now. Promise I’ll care later, though. During the flowers and candy stage.”

“You do this in stages?” she squeaked.

He rolled his head on his neck, sucking in air before responding. “I want to do this in one fell swoop, but then I’d be an inconsiderate lover.”

Need clawed at her gut, yet she managed, “Inconsiderate is a matter of opinion.”

“Oh, no. Not when it comes to a woman.”

“Sexist.”

“Truth-ist.”

Impatience, longing, need made her curl her fingers into his hair and clench a fistful of it. “That’s not a word, Harry.”

“I’m running out of them at this point.”

“Then don’t say any more of them.”
Please.

“You’re sure?” he ground out, his powerful body, fit and hard from working out, quaked.

She swallowed hard. “That I don’t want you to talk anymore?”

“No. That you’ll be able to handle what I think is going to happen.”

“I got this.”

Those words triggered his response—forceful and teetering on the edge of uncontrollable.

Harry’s hands went to the front of her shirt where he placed his fingers between her breasts and tore the flimsy material, dragging it down and pushing it away. The filmy fabric ripped easily, turning her on almost as much as the brush of his fingers on her overheated skin.

Next, he popped the clasp on the front of her bra, groaning his appreciation when she ripped open the front of his flannel shirt, too, driving her hands inside, placing her fingertips on his flesh, pinching his nipples.