Weremones (20 page)

“I, ahhh … honesty’s the best policy?” She nearly whimpered.

She was in serious danger of becoming a werewolf groupie slut.

“Enough. Let her go, Chase. You do not toy with another’s possessions.”

The arm loosened and cool air replaced the heat behind her. “True. But she’s irresistible.”

“Well, resist. The blood lowers her inhibitions. I need to reassess her injuries before we return her to her pack.”

Huh? Blood? Possessions?
Diana didn’t think she liked those implications. In fact, her temperature cooled and she made an effort to shut down whatever psychic connection she had inadvertently developed with these two strangers. She felt a sense of familiarity usually felt around people you knew and trusted for awhile. “Excuse me?”

The fog that seemed to be hazing her thinking lifted with the first spark of anger.

“With your permission, Miss Ridley, I would like to examine your injuries.”

“I’m sure you would Mr. Spock.”

Diana crossed arms under her full breasts, noticing that the tee shirt rode up as she did. Their gazes followed the movement that exposed more thigh.

So far, all the werewolves she’d met were a pushy bunch. She wasn’t about to give any more ground to them. She ignored the amusement,
and other things
, that her psyche picked up from Chase.

“Mr. Spock?”

“Yeah, Doc. You remind the lady of that pointy-eared guy on TV. Man, has she got you pegged.”

“I want you to explain that possessions bit.” Diana held up a hand. “Then again, I don’t think I want to know.”

Diana half turned and pinned her narrowed eyes on the blond werewolf. “Is he really a doctor?”

“Yeah, he’s a pretty good one, too.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “You gonna let us play doctor?”

She made an exasperated sound and rounded on Tank.

“So where’s your license, degree, or whatever doctors hang in their office?”

She’d never really looked at the ones hanging in her family physician’s office.

Other than being official looking and encased in expensive frames, they could have been printed up anywhere. But Doctor Anderson had been treating her family for years.

Doctor Tank hadn’t. She didn’t trust all the warm fuzzies she’d been getting from supernaturals lately.

“And another thing. How do I know you really are a doctor? Except for the word of your smart mouth friend.”

Up until now, Tank, had been calm, making his intimidating largess unthreatening. While his voice was captivating and his interest intense, he’d been tame, chaste, compared to Chase.

“And you expect me to hang my degrees, where?”

He arched an eyebrow, showing only mild irritation. The heat of his anger flared along her senses, making Diana gasp. She realized she’d pushed him too far. Still she didn’t feel in any real danger from him. Just perhaps in ticking him off.

“I’m sorry.” She rubbed at her temples and tried to move away. “I think I’m getting overwhelmed by too many werewolves in too short a time. Maybe I need to switch gears, take on vampires, or dragons, or something.”

The switch that had tripped Tank’s anger flipped the opposite and he was suddenly calm again, but she could feel the effort behind the emotion.

“Two things, little sister.”

Tank held out a careful, elegant hand using the other to guide her back to the blanket where he proceeded to run light hands over her bare ankle. It didn’t seem as sprained as it had before. At the time she’d wrenched it, she knew she’d be off her feet for a couple of weeks.

“We are
wolven
. Werewolves are the degenerates of society.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I know.”

“And the other thing?”

Tank looked a little distracted, so Diana prompted him.

“You said two things. That was one.”

“Hmmm.”

He carefully, very circumspectly, looked at the claw marks on her thigh. There was no way she was letting him check out her butt.

“Doctor Tank?”

“Hmmm?”

Very gently he pulled the sleeve up over her shoulder. She thought about telling him that she really felt better. Unaccountably so.

Her stomach hardly twinged, despite the fact that she’d swallowed a decent amount of blood. The bites, claw marks, and wrenched ankle felt pretty good considering she’d only been banged up and chewed on a few hours ago.

Her Weird-O-Meter was tapped out. She might be able to put two and two together, but she wasn’t ready to accept the answer. Or dwell on what had happened earlier. Not tonight.

“Tank?”

She touched a hand to his shoulder, finding out that his skin really was a smooth and velvety as it looked. And warm, feverishly warm.

It wasn’t until she noticed the flare of his nostrils, or the dilated look in his nearly black eyes that Diana realized that he might have the same lusty feelings Chase had. Tank was just better at hiding what he felt.

God, she missed her underwear! A woman could be dressed in a snowsuit and a parka, and without her bra and panties, she was naked. Without the snowsuit and parka, she simply wished the bra and panties matched.

“What was the other thing?”

His smile was a white gleam in his face. More dangerous for standing out against the darkness of his skin, making her breath catch again with a little dart of fear. His intense focus settled on her mouth.

“Dragons,” he breathed.

Diana felt the trembling hold he kept on the calm and didn’t move a muscle.

“You wouldn’t want to meet a dragon,
little sister
.”

“Why not?”

He let her scoot away. Diana watched him gather his control back. Tank turned his head slightly away and inhaled, clearing his nose of her scent.

“Because psychics are considered a great delicacy among dragonkind.”

Diana shuddered. “Oh.”

Though Tank had stood and stepped away, she noticed that he clenched and unclenched his fists, like he’d done when resisting the urge to join the fight.

She really needed to convince them to take her home. But here was the opportunity to get some of her werewolf questions answered. The only one that jumped into her head, popped out of her mouth before she could censor the words. “So, what do psychics smell like?”

She’d forgotten about Chase with Tank hovering over her. But the gleam in his golden eyes said that he hadn’t forgotten
her
.

“Delicious. You, in particular, are tasty enough to nibble.”

“Sorry, been there done that. I don’t think the last one had his rabies shots.”

Chase’s soft laugh was wicked and wild. “I said nibble, not bite. You don’t hurry fine dining.”

It was Diana’s turn to laugh, but she was unsure of herself. The sound wasn’t merry. She didn’t understand. Helen of Troy was beautiful. Diana Ridley was pretty if you liked plump.

But these two, three, no four if she counted Adam and Dog, acted like Diana was the goddess she was named for. She could see that a little bluntness was needed. “Look, I don’t understand what’s going on here. I’m not all that.
And,
I know for a fact that I look like I’ve been dragged through hell, because the demon-Dog was the one doing the dragging. Why all the sex appeal?”

If the two werewolves,
wolven
, hadn’t been standing beside one another, their twin looks of surprise would have been less hilarious. All right, they would have been funny if the situation had been less charged.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your jumping in to save me.” The last bit she kind of tagged on, since she realized she’d never thanked them.

Diana swallowed, really,
really
aware of the lack of undies. And that she hadn’t thanked them.

“Dear God, woman. Don’t think thoughts like that or we’ll never get you back without doing more than flirting.”

Chase heaved a breath and turned away, his body visibly raging for release. Diana licked her lips, nervous. She shouldn’t have looked and vowed not check out Tank to see if he was as aroused.

She looked. He was. Damn. A little thrill at being found attractive by two such males ran through her before she squelched it. Damn, damn, damn.

“You read my mind?”

“No.” His voice was strangled. “Your face.” He took a breath of air away from her direction, and winced. “And your smell.”

“What’s wrong with the way I smell?” she asked, indignant.

Okay, well she might not be daisy fresh. But she was pretty darn sure they hadn’t found a shower handy to clean up by either.

The loose predatory roll of Tank’s shoulders tensed and straightened into his more scholarly role. Diana could feel him latch onto the distance that answering her question provided. It was Chase’s whine that truly broke the moment.

“I can’t do this.” He whirled and growled at his friend. Tank tensed back up, an answering growl rumbling from his chest. Chase pointed a finger at Diana.

“I can’t just stand here,
doing nothing!
Not with her dressed like that, smelling like ... like …”

The blond werewolf jerked his body around, the only non-graceful move she’d seen from any of them. His breath was almost a pant. He practically glided to the bikes.

Tank rubbed a hand over his face and sighed.

“He’s right. It is time to take you home.” With that he moved to pick up the blanket, quickly folding the fabric into a tight square, brushing aside her offer of help with a turn of his shoulder and a mild rumble.

Fine. She didn’t get it. They were hot one moment and antisocial the next.

Besides, Diana told herself, ignoring the little pang at the sudden loss of attention. She had responsibilities. She needed to get home. She might not have to work tomorrow but there was always stuff around the house to do.

“Here, slide your arms inside.” Warm breath on her neck made her shiver and look back at Chase’s golden wolf eyes. He gestured with the coat in his hands. His face was serious for once, his mood as distant as Tank’s.

“Wear this. You need more to cover you with the ride back.”

She made out the expensive lines of a long coat. It smelled of leather of course.

“Thank you. Both of you. I mean it. For everything.”

He nodded and dropped the leather coat over her shoulders and very deliberately stepped back. Surprisingly, it was light, the fabric soft as a chamois cloth under the hand she ran down it.

It wasn’t a coat. It was a duster. Snaps, not buttons ran down the front of it and up the sides. The wind shifted the loose back panels.

He handed back her shoes, the strappy black heels she’d thought made her legs look longer, and sexy. There was only a twinge of discomfort as she slipped them on.

“Um, I know this sounds stupid. But, how did I heal so fast?”

“I told you Tank’s a doc. He knows what to do.”

He wasn’t going to give her anymore than that about the miraculous healing.

Besides, she could hazard a guess on that one, given the strange taste in her mouth. She desperately needed a toothbrush.

“Okay. Thanks again. Am I going to turn into a,
a wolven
?”

Chase choked out a laugh and slid down on his rump with a belly roll of mirth.

She glanced over at Tank. His own hastily smothered grin made her narrow her eyes.

“What? He
bit
me!”

“Little sister, the only female wolven you will find are those who were born to the species.”

“So, you can’t contract lycanthropy from a bite?”

Tank shook his head, all the mirth bled from his face. At her feet, Chase sobered and looked up at her.

“Naw. We can catch it fine. It’s females who don’t.”

“Why?”

Chase ignored Tank’s warning growl. He stood and dusted off the back of his leather pants. The mischievous light in his eye gleamed once more.

“Because you already have something more terrifying that lycanthropy can’t compete with.”

Okay, she’d bite. She foolishly asked what it was. Chase grinned and reached out.

He snagged her hand, and tugged her toward the bikes.

“PMS.”

A motorcycle roared, making her jump and scaring what little wits she had left.

She turned to face Tank, unreadable in everyway. He nodded in her direction.

It was time to go. She carefully gathered the beautiful duster and climbed up behind him, not nearly so graceful as the werewolves, no
wolven
.

Slipping her arms around his waist, she settled closer. The man could been a heated lava rock for all the rigidity in his body. He might have been unaffected, but the ride back was a wild one.

The heat of the man in front of her, the motorcycle vibrating
there,
the wind in her face made Diana feel more alive, freer than ever. She didn’t want it to end. And then, anticlimactically, Tank leaned left, and pulled into the driveway.

———

Chase aided her dismount. Faster than she could move, his hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her from the machine.

When she looked up, the teasing was gone. His eyes were a serious whisky amber.

“What is it?” She whispered, caught up in the moment. The warmth of the engine and the men enveloped her more securely than the coat.

He reached up with one finer, the rough pad of his finger smoothing away the frown while something heavier weighted down her pocket.

“Shhh.” The finger touched her lips stopping the question. “It’s not registered or traceable. Learn to use it with one shot.”

He was giving her a gun? What happened to old fashioned flowers and candy?

The finger pressed firmly against her lips and he leaned in close. His scent and Tank’s were suddenly strong in her nose, clear, identifiable as a fingerprint.

“Regular ammo hurts like a bitch and slows anything supernatural down. Wereanything, vamps, and the like, use silver and aim to kill. ‘Cause once they get over the regular stuff, they are coming after you. Got it?”

She blinked trying to absorb why anyone would try to come after her. Chase shook her. His voice was a harsh growl.

“Got it?”

She nodded and opened her mouth to ask why. The door slammed open.

“Mom!”

Diana felt the blast of fear and urgency as Karen bolted toward her. She hesitated because of the men. They moved aside, but only a couple of steps for the girl to pass.