Wolves' Lair (A Werewolf MMF Bisexual Threesome) (3 page)

She made herself look up at his face.

“How was work?” he asked. “I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to show and I was going to have to drink alone.”

“Sorry,” she said. Thirty seconds in and she was already blushing. “Some kids got away from their dad for a couple of minutes and wreaked absolute havoc in the fake flower section. We were forever putting them all back away.”

He grinned. “Little bastards.”

Lucy had to laugh. “Kids aren’t the worst, even.”

“Who is?”

She leaned in, conspiratorially. The bar’s low light made her brave, and she felt a magnetic pull toward Declan, a pull that she couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

Lucy touched her wild, curly hair, pulling it behind one ear.

“The little old ladies who come in for knitting supplies,” she said. “God forbid we have something out of stock or accidentally overcharge by ten cents.”

“Old ladies can be the toughest birds,” he said. He raised his glass to his lips and his eyes flicked over Lucy’s head, and he motioned at someone. “My gran doesn’t take shit from anybody.”

The waiter arrived then, a skinny young man in trousers and a vest. Lucy grabbed a menu in a hurry.

“What are you drinking?” she asked Declan. She wasn’t much of a drinker, and if she was being honest, she drank mostly horrid mixed drinks at her friends’ houses.

“Four Roses,” he said.

She blinked at him.

“It’s a bourbon,” he said.

“What do you usually like?” the waiter asked.

Her eyes fell on the menu: more expensive than she’d thought it would be, and half the drinks had ingredients she’d never heard of.

“To be perfectly honest, I drink a lot of Captain Morgan and Diet Coke,” she said. “I don’t know much about real cocktails.”

The waiter’s finger tapped the menu. “How about an Aviation? It’s the perfect introduction.”

Lucy swallowed at the price, and hoped Declan was paying. She didn’t have fifteen-dollar drinks in her budget. “Sure,” she said.

“And another for you?” the waiter asked Declan.

“Why not,” he said, and then he smiled right at Lucy. She felt her heart skip a beat, and there was a moment of silence at the table as the waiter left.

“So,” she said. “What do you do?”

“I’m an electrician at the college,” he said. “Not exciting, but it pays well and I can’t complain.” There was a brief pause as he sipped his bourbon. “You’re a student there, right?”

“How’d you know that?”

He shrugged, fingers still curled around the almost-empty glass. “You seem like it, I guess.”

Lucy’s eyes fell on the wolf tattoo again. “I’m studying biology,” she volunteered. “I used to want to be a vet, but I don’t think I could do it. So I might become a research scientist, study frogs or birds or wolves or—“ she paused for a second, realizing what she’d just said. “Or something,” she finished.

Declan laughed out loud. “I ought to offer to let you study a wolf right now,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Lucy was horrified for a moment, staring at him as he laughed his easy laugh.

Then, she started laughing too, leaning back in the booth. The waiter brought her drink over, and she was surprised to see that it was lavender, not at all the color she’d been expecting. The waiter whisked away Declan’s bourbon glass, and then they were alone again in the booth.

“That’s quite a color,” he said, gesturing at her glass.

“It is,” she admitted. “I didn’t realize it would be so.... Purple.”

“Well, don’t judge it ’til you’ve tried it.”

Lucy took a small, ladylike sip of her drink, locking eyes with Declan as she did.

It was
delicious,
and strong. She took another sip, just for good measure.

“It’s really good,” she admitted.

“What was it called?”

“An aviation.”

“Are you flying yet?”

She laughed. “Tell me about being an electrician,” she said. “Have you ever gotten electrocuted?”

“Of course,” he said.

Lucy had two more drinks at Declan’s urging, and she never even saw the bill — the waiter whisked it away before she could even protest.

As soon as she got to her feet, she realized two things: one, that she’d driven herself there, and two, that she was too drunk to drive.

“I could get a cab,” she said to Declan as they walked out of the bar and into the cool Idaho night.

“Nonsense,” Declan said. “My ship’s still plenty right enough to drive you home, and I’ve got an extra helmet.”

Lucy stopped short for a second. “A what?”

“A helmet.”

She didn’t get it.

“For my motorcycle.”

Of course
he rode a motorcycle. Normally, she’d never have gotten one of the things, but as she tripped over the threshold of the bar Declan was right there, literally catching her in his arms, and she was surprised again at how
strong
he was, lifting her like it was no problem.

“I shouldn’t,” she started, and then she looked up at his face. His eyes were like deep pools, surrounded by dark, almost-black hair, just a little bit shaggy.

“Okay,” she finished that sentence.

“I promise to be careful and obey all traffic laws,” he said.

He was parked right in front of the bar and grabbed a second helmet out of a compartment on back of the bike, lowering it gently over Lucy’s hair, then putting his own on.

“I’ve got to get on first,” said a voice in her ears, startling her. Through the faceplate, she could see Declan jump. “We’ve got an intercom.”

“Oh.”

He straddled the bike, his long legs coming down on either side, and then looked over at her.

“All right, get on behind me,” he said. “And hold on tight.”

She straddled the bike, her legs considerably shorter than his, and wrapped both her arms around his midsection. Even through the leather jacket, she could feel the muscles underneath, flexing and relaxing as he adjusted to her weight on the bike.
 

“Go slow,” she said into the intercom.

And then, they were off.

It was only a ten minute drive to the apartment Lucy shared with her roommates, and by the time they got there, she was giggling like a maniac. Being on a motorcycle was a total rush — the wind in her face, zooming past cars and people.

When Declan parked, she stepped off, shakily, and pulled away her helmet.

“You have fun?” he asked, rubbing his hand on his hair and setting his helmet on the bike.

“That was great!” Lucy gushed, handing her helmet to him.

“I told you,” he grinned. “Next thing you know, you’re gonna want your own.”

He stepped closer to her, and suddenly his face was only inches from hers. He towered over her completely, and Lucy could practically feel the body heat rolling off of him.

“Maybe,” she demurred, suddenly shy and looking down.

“Lucy,” he said.

She looked up, felt his fingers on her chin.

“Let me take you out again,” he murmured, looking straight into her eyes.

“Where?” she asked.

“Dinner,” he said. “Anywhere.”

“Okay.” Lucy was whispering now, feeling as though she was held utterly in his thrall.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

This time Lucy just nodded, and then Declan bent down and pressed his lips to hers. They were warm and dry and strong, and she felt a shudder of anticipation move through her body.

His mouth moved against hers and Lucy responded, rising onto her toes, eagerly pressing herself against him, utterly lost in the moment.

His tongue swiped along her lower lip and she opened her mouth, letting him inside, letting their tongues tangle together as her hands grasped at his muscular torso.

A small knot of people walked down the sidewalk, and Lucy and Declan broke apart as they passed.

Suddenly, Lucy could hear their voices drop to a whisper. They said something they couldn’t hear to each other, and from the corner of her eye, she could see them staring at her and Declan.

He either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, but Lucy sobered up in an instant.

What was she doing, going out with a wolf, letting him kiss her here? They were dangerous and she
knew
it, even if he really was an electrician, she couldn’t get tangled up in that lifestyle. Drug running, motorcycles, god know what else.

“I have to go,” she gasped, and then practically ran through the doors of her apartment building.

For the next two days, Lucy tried to get Declan out of her head, but it was no use. It was like the more she told herself that he was dangerous, that his motorcycle would only get her hurt or killed or something, the more she wanted him.

She felt terrible about running away Saturday night, and for what? Because some people had walked by and said something about them — what did those assholes know, anyway? Declan was kind, he was nice, and he was an electrician for god’s sake. Maybe the other wolves ran drugs from Canada or guns from Mexico, traded pharmaceuticals to the bored Mormon housewives in Salt Lake City, but Declan obviously wasn’t one of them.

He was normal, for God’s sake.

The problem was, he was a normal guy whose phone number she didn’t have. When they’d gotten drinks she’d given him her phone number and just assumed he’d call her soon and she’d get it that way, but now forty-eight hours had gone by since she’d practically run away from him, and she hadn’t heard a thing.

It wasn’t until she was closing the store again, Tuesday night, that the solution hit her.

Of course
, she thought.
He was at that bar once, maybe he’ll be there again
.

Once she figured it out, the hour until closing seemed to drag on forever: old lady after old lady came to her checkout and argued with her about yarn, or about needlepoint. She had to clean up a broken glass, and she had to reorganize the beads.

It seemed like 9 p.m. would never come, but then it did. The sound of the store closing announcement had never been sweeter.

Lucy and Amanda, the other girl working close, cleaned up in record time and they were out by 9:20.

“I wish every night went this fast,” Amanda said, sauntering out the door and locking it.

Lucy thought her heart might beat right out of her chest. She was certain that she other girl could hear it and just wasn’t saying anything.

“Yeah, me too. Hey, I’m parked that way on the street, the lot creeps me out, I’m fine to walk alone, see you in a few days!” the words came out in a rush with practically no spaces between them.

Amanda gave her a funny look, but said goodbye and headed for the lot, leaving Lucy alone on the sidewalk.

Alone except for the knot of men, smoking and pooled beneath a street lamp. They all wore leather jackets, and even from her distance, Lucy knew what she would find on them: wolf tattoos, every one.

She swallowed hard, straightened her back, adjusted her thrift store purse on her shoulder, and marched toward the bar, determined to act utterly unafraid.

The men standing around on the sidewalk stopped talking and watched her as she walked by, and she pretended not to notice their stares, or their suddenly-quiet mutters.

There was a bouncer, a huge, tall, beefy guy with a bald head and a wolf tattoo. When Lucy walked up to him, he looked her up and down for a long time, clearly a little uncertain about what to do with her.

“You lost?” he finally asked.

“No,” Lucy said. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder, nervously.

“This is the Mangy Mutt,” he said.

Lucy just nodded.

“You twenty-one?”

“Yes,” she said, and started to reach for her ID, but he waved her off.

“Good enough for me,” he said, pushing the door next to him open. “Have a nice night.”

It was dark inside, which wasn’t exactly surprising to Lucy. She
had
been in a bar before, after all, though this was a different dark than the refined, artisanal dark of the cocktail bar Declan had taken her to a few days ago. This was a sticky dark, a dark that smelled vaguely of stale smoke and stale beer, the sounds of pool balls clicking together and men laughing everywhere.

She didn’t see Declan.

“What can I get you?” asked a woman’s voice. The bartender was right there, looking at her, wearing some sort of leather halter vest that left plenty of cleavage free. She had dark hair, dark eyes, and a narrow, almost predatory face, but in a pretty way.

She didn’t have the wolf tattoo, though, and that gave Lucy hope. Maybe regular people
could
come in here and blend in, and it wouldn’t be such a big deal.

Lucy had been so nervous about coming in and looking for Declan that she hadn’t even thought about ordering a drink. Her eyes flicked over the big selection of liquor behind the bar, almost an overwhelming selection, and the bartender was still staring at her.

“What do you have?” she asked. Even as it came out of her mouth, she knew it was a stupid question.

“All the usual,” the woman said, turning to look at the shelves behind her.

Lucy’s heart sank when she saw that same tattoo that Declan had — snarling wolf, glowing eyes — right in the center of the woman’s back. She was a wolf after all and Lucy was still alone, the only human in the place.

“On tap we got Coors, Bud, Michelob, and Sam Adams.”

“I’ll take a Sam Adams,” said Lucy, just echoing the last thing she’d heard.

As the woman poured her beer, Lucy looked around the bar another few times, hoping that Declan would magically come out of the shadows or something, come talk to her and tell her it was OK that she’d run away from him for no real reason.

He wasn’t coming, though. Lucy was going to have to go through the bar, past all the men playing pool and darts and just sitting around tables, muttering with their heads close together. She could even see men going through a doorway to the back of the place, and every so often, a cheer would erupt from beyond the doorway.

They were probably watching some sporting event back there, she assumed. Football, maybe. Was it even football season?

“Four dollars,” the bartender said. Lucy gave her a five dollar bill, took her beer, and started walking.