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About the author:
Beatrice P. Slitt lives in a small place out east in Canada. She lives with her bees and extremely attractive gal pal. She’s overeducated and underprepared in most aspects of existing as an adult human being. She could probably pass as a half-decent sloth though. Her hobbies include writing, cat petting, watching movies and television shows, playing video games, crying about video games, asking other people to play video games while she watches, and other forms of couch potatoing.
Here is a short sample from the book:
She picked up an odd scent outside of a bar. It smelt of many – perhaps a pack – but none of the scents she recognized were inside of it. Colby hesitated and then, with a shrug, went into the bar. It wouldn’t have surprised her if a larger pack tried to attack this one when it was still budding and, if she caught wind of it, she could warn the new pack and perhaps cement herself into the group with that.
The bar itself was sparsely populated, though she supposed it was still early in the evening. The music pumped as if it was full, but she mostly saw people shouting at each other from across their table or booth. A few eyes lingered on her, and she walked deeper into the bar while trying to place the scent. There wasn’t a group big enough in the bar to carry so many scents.
A man grabbed her wrist as she walked by. “Buy me a drink, love.”
She politely replied, “Fuck off.”
He laughed and released her wrist, but she waited as she looked at him. He was tall and thick with an old bomber jacket only emphasizing his huge frame. What caught her attention was a scar across his nose that looked like a werewolf’s claws. It just missed both of his wide black eyes, but mangled his nose and right cheek. His roman nose had healed improperly and was set at an angle. She had always been attracted to men who looked a little roughed up. Perhaps it was an instinct to mate with men who could survive combat. This man certainly looked like he had already survived a lot.
And he was the source of the smell.
She couldn’t figure out if he was human or not. It wasn’t uncommon for packs to keep humans in their clan. Sometimes a human stumbled onto them and didn’t want to turn, so the werewolves honoured their wishes but kept them around to make sure they didn’t spread the word. Some of the nastier packs would keep them around as servants, promising to turn them when the time was right.
But this man didn’t strike her as someone’s servant. Usually transformation scars healed themselves unless the transformation was too late. He could have been attacked by a werewolf and later – maybe hours or days – a pack came along and changed him. That meant he easily could be a werewolf that was recently around his pack.
And he knew what she was. His eyes watched her intently as she tried to figure out what he was. A human nose wouldn’t be able to sniff her out, especially not a broken one like his. It also wasn’t uncommon for werewolves to keep a bit of wolf in them at all times. It made them larger and more menacing, and it meant if they were ambushed, they had some extra juice to protect themselves. His size wasn’t completely uncommon in humans, but she wouldn’t have written off the potential yet. His grip had been strong.
“All right,” she said. She moved closer to him, standing next to his stool and brushing up against him. She wanted to tease him, and she offered him a smile as she waved down the bartender. She shouted over the noise, “Give him another of the shit he’s drinking. And give me something with an umbrella.”
Colby could feel the man’s eyes on her as the bartender put together their drinks. She paid him and then motioned for them to move to a booth. It’d be easy to talk in a place like this – hard to hear each other but harder for others to eavesdrop. They moved into a booth and sat on the same side. He took off his jacket and tossed it onto the other side of the booth. She followed suit, but she kept her purse beside her. She took her time removing her scarf, careful not to turn her hair to more frizz, but also to watch the man take her in. She had dressed to show cleavage, and the man shifted in his seat and looked away when he saw it.
He wanted her, sure, but he didn’t want to tempt himself. He could be in a relationship, but it also meant he could be human. It wasn’t impossible for humans and werewolves to sleep together, but it wasn’t easy either. However, it meant most exiles were thirsty for a decent lay – herself included.
So she was disappointed that he looked away, especially when he seemed interested before. She folded her arm on his shoulder and leaned close. Her other hand lazily drew circles around the rim of her glass. “I’m Colby,” she said near his ear. “You are?”
He leaned closer and replied, “Sokol Orlov.”
She didn’t pick up much of an accent. Most werewolves lived for long enough to lose their accents, but he looked to be in his early 30s. He easily could have immigrated here from a young age. Hell, he could have been born here. She watched his lips as he took a drink. She liked them. Thick. Full. Spirits, she needed a good fuck.
She asked, “What can I do for you? Aside from treating you to a free drink.”
She made sure to press her leg against his, leaning a bit more weight against him. He said, “I’m looking for the new clan that’s popped up.”
“Invading on your clan’s territory?”
“No, they’re far away,” Sokol said. “I just want to talk to them.”
“Well, I’m just an exile,” she said, finally taking a drink. “I haven’t found them yet, but maybe they don’t want me to find them.”
“There are only four in the group right now,” Sokol said. “You’ve smelt them, right?”
She absently traced her fingers across her chest before lightly touching the stem of her glass. His eyes shifted to her cleavage again and then quickly watched her eyes again. He continued, “It’s probably hard for them to find all the exiles. To my knowledge, only one of them is doing the recruiting. A man. Recently turned. He takes them back to the Queen and she judges whether or not they’ll stay. I haven’t seen anyone stay.”
“I passed a few on the way in. A lot of human haters.”
His eyes darted to the way she moved her fingers across the stem of her glass before looking away to take another drink. She watched him carefully. His charcoal v-neck revealed a bit of curly, black chest hair. She wanted to nuzzle into it and smell him. She asked, “So you’re in another clan?”
“I’ve been here for a week and this new clan doesn’t seem to pick me out.”
“You reek of your clan,” she said. “Are you all crammed together in a hotel room?”
“You’re seeking the group out, right? Maybe you could put in a word for me.”
She didn’t like that she wasn’t getting straight answers from him. Something was wrong. She traced her hand up his leg and watched him shift in the booth. She decided to test the waters: “Maybe I’ll do you a favour if you do something for me.”
He turned towards her, watching her lips but not committing to a touch. She could feel his cock stiffening in his jeans, and she gently rubbed it. His lips parted. “Like what?” he asked.
She smiled, and she watched his eyes glaze over slightly as she moved her hand faster. “You know how hard it is being an exile, right? I’m lonely.”
His hand stayed flat against the table. He strained not to buck into her touch. Her other hand fingered the button on his pants. Without saying a word, he nodded.
“How about a kiss?” she asked, leaning slowly in.
He pulled away quickly, practically falling out of the booth, and she laughed harshly as she took another drink. “I knew it. Human.”
“Usually I last longer,” he said, sliding back next to her.
“I bet you say that to the ladies a lot.”
“I mean, usually I can pass as a werewolf for longer,” he said, trying to subtly adjust himself in the seat. “But you suspected me from the beginning.”
She was glad he was hard and uncomfortable. She’d been horny since she saw him, and she was glad the feeling was shared, especially now that he couldn’t touch her. “What does your clan want with them?” she asked, drinking faster now.
She didn’t like that he was on the outside of the booth. It’d be harder to leave quickly. She eyed her scarf and jacket on the other side of the booth. He said, “I’m looking for someone.”
A hunter. Everything inside of her told her to run. Run and run fast. “You have a picture?” she asked.
He watched her carefully. She tried to remain calm, but she knew he could see through her. Any heat inside her quickly succumbed to fear. He said, “Listen, this pack isn’t for you.”
“You’re sick of running, right?” he asked. “I don’t know why you’re an exile – maybe you just made one dumb mistake – but you want a clan again. You want to have a place to lay your head and people to live alongside. But I know you like humans.”
She hated how easily he read her. She didn’t reply.
“They have a human-hater in their group. Maybe they don’t know,” he said.
He took out his wallet and handed her a sketch. She took it in her hand. An older woman. Wide nose. Cloud-like springy hair. She wasn’t smiling. Colby continued to take in the sight as he continued, “Her name is Drusilla. She killed two hunters a few centuries back. The clan exiled her, but I guess they decided they want her back.”
“They want her back?” she asked, handing the sketch back.
“I didn’t ask why,” Sokol said. “I was just told to make sure she didn’t know I was human. Thought she’d kill me on sight.”
“You’ll need to be a better actor.”
“Hey, if I hadn’t found a bitch in heat, I would have lasted longer.”
Colby sucked her teeth. Bitch wasn’t always an insult among the werewolves, and Sokol hadn’t said it as one, but Colby had been human long enough to hate the word. She pushed Sokol out of the booth and said, “If I’m picked up by the group, I’ll let you know if she’s there.”
“I know she’s there,” Sokol said. “I just need to know where they’re located.”
“I’m not going to throw away my chance for a clan just to help some human who won’t even put out,” she said, grabbing her jacket and scarf. “Forget it.”
He took her jacket, holding it as she put her scarf back on. It made her nervous, but he looked more obedient than threatening. He said, “Who said I wasn’t going to put out?”
She laughed, and he handed her jacket to her. She said, “Get a new job, Hunter. This one’s not for you.”
He grabbed his own jacket and followed her as she started to leave the bar. He asked, “Listen, about the, you know, getting laid business. I’ve been around werewolves long enough to get you off.”
She grinned, holding back another laugh as she stepped back into the cold. It felt good, but he pinned her back against the wall. He radiated heat, and he gently pressed his leg between hers. “What do you like?” he asked, watching her eyes. “I bet you want me to tie you up and make you come at least four times before my cock even touches you.”
She sharply took in air as he leaned closer to her. One hand was at her waist, keeping them pressed together. Their noses almost touched, and his leg moved against her in a pleasing fashion. “And if you don’t like the looks of me, I can always blindfold you,” he murmured, almost purring. “I know exiles have needs.”
She pushed him aside and took her gloves out of her pocket. She worried about losing control of herself around him. Putting them on, she said, “I’ll think about it.”
He grinned and said, “Well, if you come sniffing me out, I’ll probably be in this bar.”
She offered him a wave when a cab pulled over. A man stepped out and said, “Do you need a lift?”
He wasn’t particularly large, but his voice was rough. Sokol watched him. She was surprised at how intimidating the man was. Sokol barely stood his ground, and his observation was more out of awe than anything else.
She smelt it on the man instantly. One of the four.
His eyes stayed locked on Sokol as he waited for her response. Sokol ran a hand through his black hair and then went back into the bar. “Yeah,” Colby replied. “Thanks.”
She slipped into the cab and waited as the man pulled out. “Are you looking for the Queen?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m an exile. That guy-“
“He’s a hunter,” the man said. “He’s been trying to see us, but we’re not sure why. Did he tell you anything?”
She grinned. “He told me his target.”