Werewolf Sings the Blues by Jennifer Harlow Page B

a zoo once. I wanted to reach through the bars to pet it so bad. I even snuck away from Mom and Barry so I could go and watch it some more. Took them an hour to find me. Or to notice I was even gone, not sure. I begged them for a Siberian Husky after that, but Mom’s allergic.” I chuckle. “Define irony, huh? A woman allergic to dogs ends up married to a werewolf. She was literally allergic to her husband. Maybe that’s why she kicked him to the curb.”
    â€œIt wouldn’t have affected her. He would have been locked up, away from her, in wolf form unless on pack property. It’s the law.”
    I stand up to look at him, brow furrowed. “Why? Are you that dangerous?”
    â€œWe’re like any other wild animal. Caution is required.”
    â€œThat must put a damper on the old love life, huh? Most women won’t even tolerate hairy backs, let alone fur all over. Not to mention how to even tell her. ‘Hey, babe, I’m a mythical crea ture who wants to eat you at least once a month.’ Imagine it’d be a deal breaker for a lot of chicks. Unless you’re a player, then you don’t really need to tell them.”
    â€œA player?”
    â€œYou know: wham, bam, thank you ma’am, gotta jam?” He blinks. “One-night stands? Casual sex? Sex, then you never see her again?” Oh, please don’t let him be a virgin. Even I have some scruples.
    â€œOh. I attempted casual sex on one occasion at Tate’s urging. I did not enjoy it. It was … hollow. I did not particularly like her beyond the physical.”
    â€œSo you’re a romantic,” I say with approval. “Don’t meet many of you anymore. Makes sense, though. Aren’t wolves monogamous?”
    Even in the dim light I can see him turning away from me. “Yes.”
    â€œSo, you just haven’t found her yet. Don’t worry, I’m sure you will.” I float flat on my back again. “Doesn’t mean you can’t have fun in the meantime. Just because you didn’t like something once doesn’t mean you should give up on it. I hated veggie burgers at first, now I love them. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again and all. That’s my motto. Like marriage. I had a crappy first one, doesn’t mean I don’t want to try it again should the opportunity arise.”
    â€œI do not wish to continue with this topic of conversation.”
    Damn. “Then what do you want to talk about, Blondie?” I flip over and start stroking toward him from the far end of the pool. “Come on. Ask me anything.” I rest my chin on the edge of the pool and gaze up at him with wide eyes and a sex kitten pout that’s brought many a man to his knees. Literally. “I promise to tell the truth even. You must have a million questions for your long-lost little sister. Come on. I’m an open book. Start reading, handsome.”
    His eyes narrow a little to study me for artifice. This cat really needs to work on his trust issues, and that’s coming from me . When they return to normal size, he asks, “Why do you hate yourself?”
    â€œUh …” Okay, not expecting that. I have no idea what to say except, “I-I-I don’t hate myself. Why the hell would you think that?”
    â€œI’ve watched you. You don’t take care of your body. You don’t eat, you drink too much, you engage in reckless behavior, you … give yourself freely to strangers. In my experience only people who have little regard for their life engage in such activity. Even when you sing, the majority of the time there is no joy in it. I wonder why.”
    With every fiber of my being I want Donovan to show up and shoot Jason or me or both of us in the fucking head. Don’t care which, so long as I do not have to answer that question or be examined by his apathetic eyes. This isn’t fun anymore. If I wanted a therapy session, I’d