clients like this. Calm the fuck down.”
A haze of red anger clouded Brandon’s vision. “You think you can stop me from going to her?”
Trey stretched his arms wide, called over his shoulder, “Someone get Travis!” To Brandon, he said, “We’re all friends here, Brand. What the hell is stressing you?”
He could hear the lie in his so smooth voice. “You’re as bad as Ruff!” Somewhere in the back of his mind, the aggressive growls rumbling in his chest startled him more than the wulves sitting at the table with him. Trey didn’t back down.
“Guys, lend a hand, here.”
The idea they would gang up on him infuriated Brandon. That was not the wulf way. A full-fledged snarl erupted from his throat. His eyes went white hot as he called his battle form. Fur rippled in a fluid advance across his shoulder blades. Steel-hard talons sprang from the tips of his curling fingers.
The trainers stood en masse, maneuvering between Brandon and the clients, blocking his view of his bitch. How dare they try to keep her from him when he needed her the most?
The howl coming out of his half-changed wulven throat throbbed with agony.
Enri, that groundskeeper who had only just started hanging with them, stood way back, watching the scene with a nervous look on his face, nostrils quivering. “Who are you trying to impress?”
Who did he think he was, that short wulf, to turn his nose up at him? Brandon wanted to tear the little wulf’s throat out. In fact, he felt like taking on all the wulves surrounding him. They were too close to her, too rutting ignorant to know enough to back the hell away from his bitch.
“He’s usually not like this.”
Werewulf Journals 4: Sated Pleasures
63
“Hey, Bran’s not stuck up or anything…”
“No, no, that’s not what I mean. Can’t you smell him? He’s giving off bonding spoor!”
“Who the hell is around here for him to bond with?”
“Oh shit! This is deep trouble if it’s who I think it is!”
“You mean the director’s bitch?”
“Let’s hope not!”
“Back away from him, slowly. Give him some space.”
“Oh man, I’m glad you’re here. Let Travis through,” Ruff ordered.
“Travis, see what you can do. Talk to him.”
Their words buzzed around him, came at him whizzing fast as bullets, striking from everywhere, the impact hard and painful, confusing. He huddled down, threw quick, measuring glances at the wulves weaving about him. He could take two or three. If he hamstringed one, it would take a while for him to heal. He’d buy some time to go back later and deal with the injured one. How could he stop the others from overwhelming him?
“Brandon…Brand, I need you to listen to me.”
The familiar voice snagged his attention.
“Brandon, I’m Travis, your pack brother.”
His head whipped around, eyes finding and focusing on Travis. The big burly wulf stood directly in front of him, hands on his hips, his body stance screaming dominance.
Habit had him whimpering in submission, going lower, dropping to his knees to show throat… No, wait! That was wrong. He wouldn’t show throat this time, couldn’t. No wulf would take his bitch!
“No!” He came up, surprising the larger wulf, tackling him at the knees and bringing him down to earth. Snapping his jaws, he tried for the exposed throat beneath him. Travis backhanded him, the ringing blow strong enough to rattle his ears. It snapped his neck back, sent him tumbling away. He was back on his feet in a second, charging at Travis in maddened rage.
“Brandon!”
The terror inhabiting that feminine cry froze him in place. Sight returned in a rush as his eyes bled back to skin-normal. Reason followed soon after. Brandon scanned the room, worried -- now he was back in his right mind -- at the damage he might have caused…and not to the furniture.
Taking inventory, he relaxed when he saw that Rosemary was the only human left in the dining room. He had no idea when the wulves had escorted the
A haze of red anger clouded Brandon’s vision. “You think you can stop me from going to her?”
Trey stretched his arms wide, called over his shoulder, “Someone get Travis!” To Brandon, he said, “We’re all friends here, Brand. What the hell is stressing you?”
He could hear the lie in his so smooth voice. “You’re as bad as Ruff!” Somewhere in the back of his mind, the aggressive growls rumbling in his chest startled him more than the wulves sitting at the table with him. Trey didn’t back down.
“Guys, lend a hand, here.”
The idea they would gang up on him infuriated Brandon. That was not the wulf way. A full-fledged snarl erupted from his throat. His eyes went white hot as he called his battle form. Fur rippled in a fluid advance across his shoulder blades. Steel-hard talons sprang from the tips of his curling fingers.
The trainers stood en masse, maneuvering between Brandon and the clients, blocking his view of his bitch. How dare they try to keep her from him when he needed her the most?
The howl coming out of his half-changed wulven throat throbbed with agony.
Enri, that groundskeeper who had only just started hanging with them, stood way back, watching the scene with a nervous look on his face, nostrils quivering. “Who are you trying to impress?”
Who did he think he was, that short wulf, to turn his nose up at him? Brandon wanted to tear the little wulf’s throat out. In fact, he felt like taking on all the wulves surrounding him. They were too close to her, too rutting ignorant to know enough to back the hell away from his bitch.
“He’s usually not like this.”
Werewulf Journals 4: Sated Pleasures
63
“Hey, Bran’s not stuck up or anything…”
“No, no, that’s not what I mean. Can’t you smell him? He’s giving off bonding spoor!”
“Who the hell is around here for him to bond with?”
“Oh shit! This is deep trouble if it’s who I think it is!”
“You mean the director’s bitch?”
“Let’s hope not!”
“Back away from him, slowly. Give him some space.”
“Oh man, I’m glad you’re here. Let Travis through,” Ruff ordered.
“Travis, see what you can do. Talk to him.”
Their words buzzed around him, came at him whizzing fast as bullets, striking from everywhere, the impact hard and painful, confusing. He huddled down, threw quick, measuring glances at the wulves weaving about him. He could take two or three. If he hamstringed one, it would take a while for him to heal. He’d buy some time to go back later and deal with the injured one. How could he stop the others from overwhelming him?
“Brandon…Brand, I need you to listen to me.”
The familiar voice snagged his attention.
“Brandon, I’m Travis, your pack brother.”
His head whipped around, eyes finding and focusing on Travis. The big burly wulf stood directly in front of him, hands on his hips, his body stance screaming dominance.
Habit had him whimpering in submission, going lower, dropping to his knees to show throat… No, wait! That was wrong. He wouldn’t show throat this time, couldn’t. No wulf would take his bitch!
“No!” He came up, surprising the larger wulf, tackling him at the knees and bringing him down to earth. Snapping his jaws, he tried for the exposed throat beneath him. Travis backhanded him, the ringing blow strong enough to rattle his ears. It snapped his neck back, sent him tumbling away. He was back on his feet in a second, charging at Travis in maddened rage.
“Brandon!”
The terror inhabiting that feminine cry froze him in place. Sight returned in a rush as his eyes bled back to skin-normal. Reason followed soon after. Brandon scanned the room, worried -- now he was back in his right mind -- at the damage he might have caused…and not to the furniture.
Taking inventory, he relaxed when he saw that Rosemary was the only human left in the dining room. He had no idea when the wulves had escorted the
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