Wolves' Lair (A Werewolf MMF Bisexual Threesome) Page 2

  “No, it’s just, you know, better to walk together,” she said quickly as she glanced toward the bar.

  Something moved in the shadows, and Lucy thought her heart might stop.

  “I am gonna have a drink when I get home,” Stephan was saying, not looking at Lucy.

  The shadows moved again, and the man in them stepped into the bright glare of a street lamp.

  It was one of the wolves from the night before, his face just barely lit, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

  He looked right at Lucy and nodded once, then stepped back into the shadows.

  What does he want? Lucy wondered. Should I go talk to him, or what?

  “Are you coming?” Stephan asked.

  Lucy turned to look at him. When she glanced back at the wolf, he hadn’t moved.

  “Yeah, I’m coming,” she said, and walked with Stephan to her car, then drove home safely, wondering why the wolf had been watching her from the shadows like that.

  For the next couple of days, Lucy didn’t have much of a chance to think it over. She had a huge biology lab to do and a twelve-page paper on the romantic poets to write, but she didn’t mind. She had a sneaking suspicion that thinking things over too much would only lead her to worry incessantly, and when had that ever helped anyone?

  She wasn’t at work again until Saturday, and was just tying her apron on and clocking in when Stephan came up to her.

  “Watch out for the glue aisle,” he said. “Some guy is in there, pretending to look at stuff. Black leather jacket and all that.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I think he’s a wolf.”

  Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Thanks for the tip,” she said. “I’ll avoid that section.”

  It has to be one of them, she thought. Maybe the one that was watching me the other night.

  She knew she should probably be nervous — what if he wanted a favor or something as payback for saving her the other night? But on the other hand, she felt a tingle of curiosity as well as a tingle of something else.

  After all, neither of them had tried a thing. It couldn’t hurt to talk to them, right? What if all those rumors really were false? Wolves could probably be just as nice as anyone else.

  Head high, she made her way to the glue aisle.

  Sure enough, there he was, pretending to be very interested in different types of tile glue. Lucy swallowed, straightening up. Time to be brave.

  “That one works best on glass tiling,” she said.

  Without looking for her, he reached for the box and examined the back.

  “I’m redoing the steps to my patio,” he said. “I found all these mosaic tiles. Shiny on one side, but dull on the back. What’s that?”

  “Sounds like ceramic,” Lucy said, her heartbeat slowing. She pointed to another box. “You want that one.”

  He put the glue back on the shelf and turned to look at her, fully.

  “I’m Declan,” he said.

  He held out one hand.

  “Hi,” she said, simply. “I’m still Lucy.”

  Really? That’s what you say? She thought.

  “Good,” he said with a smile. The corners of his bright blue eyes crinkled at the edges. “I was hoping you were.”

  She blushed.

  “So, you’re redoing your patio?” she said, fumbling a little for the words.

  “I’ve given it some thought, at least,” he said. “Though truth be told, it’s not on the list of my top projects. I should probably re-grout my kitchen counters, first.”

  Lucy’s heart had almost slowed to a normal pace. This was so different from being in the dark with him, outside her car, terrified. She remembered that heavy, wet, fleshy snap and it sent a chill down her spine, but she was safe in the art supply store.

  She felt herself smiling. This wolf — Declan — was actually kind of sweet and charming, not at all the wild monster she’d let herself believe.

  “We don’t sell grout here,” she said. “Unless you were going to use superglue.”

  “Would that work?”

  “No.” Lucy laughed a little, just to watch his eyes crinkle again. The way he looked at her when they did really made her feel all squishy inside.

  “Then I guess I’m in the wrong place,” he said.

  At that, Lucy felt an odd little tug inside her. She didn’t want him to leave, she realized.

  “What time do you get off?”

  “Today?”

  Stop asking such dumb questions, she thought.

  “Yeah.”

  “Not until we close at 9. I’ll probably be out of here by 9:30.” She fiddled with her apron pockets and then looked up at him. “Why?”

  “That’s a little late,” he said, half to himself. “Could I still take you out for dinner, though?”

  Oh, thought Lucy.

  “Wow, um, I mean,” she said, sticking one hand into her curly mass of hair. “I don’t know if you want to wait for me and eat that late. Is anything even going to be open then? Besides McDonalds, I guess?”

  He held up both hands again. “Hey, it was just a question,” he said. “It’s okay, don’t get worked up.”

  He sounded disappointed.

  “Wait, no,” said Lucy.

  You are fucking this up, she thought.

  “No, I mean, yes, yeah, I’d love to get dinner with you,” she said.

  She could feel herself turning bright pink.

  Declan was looking at her, amusement crinkles starting to form around his eyes.

  “You sure?” he said. “You don’t have to.”

  For one moment, his blue eyes looked straight into hers, and Lucy felt a single deep pang of something she couldn’t name.

  “Of course I’m sure,” she said. “I just — sorry, I get flustered easily.”

  “I see that.”

  Lucy tangled her hands in her apron again.

  “Nine-thirty, you said?”

  “Yeah, though—“ Lucy began to feel another rush of words she couldn’t stop— “My car is here, so maybe I should just meet you somewhere at nine forty-five or something?”

  He nodded.

  “The copper kettle?”

  Lucy raised her eyebrows. He’d just named Boise’s only fancy cocktail bar. It had opened last year, and called itself a ‘speakeasy,’ serving fancy cocktails from the 1930s and 40s, along with bar food. She hadn’t expected him to suggest such a nice place, if she was being honest — he struck her as more of a cheap-tequila-and-beer kind of guy.

  “I’ve never been there,” she said. “Is it good?”

  “Me either,” he said. “We can find out together. Nine forty-five.”

  Lucy nodded.

  Declan winked at her, then turned around and walked away, dragging one finger along the shelf as he walked out of the aisle. She tried not to watch him as he left, even if he did look really good in jeans.

  Really good.

  She could see people looking at him while doing their best to act like they weren’t looking. Most art store patrons were reedy, lanky college students — skinny kids in thrift store clothes, not tall, broad grown men who wore leather jackets and really filled out a pair of jeans.

  Lucy looked down at the bottle of glue she’d grabbed off of the shelf, just to have something in her hands. She suddenly realized the PA was saying something, and after listening for a moment, she realized it was telling her to come to the registers in the front.

  She put the glue back and scurried to her cash register, and spent the next two hours ringing up customers.

  That night, as all the art store employees walked to the parking lot in a knot, she tried to be coy about her plans.

  “I’m going to go have drinks with some friends,” she told Stephan. “What are you doing?”

  He shrugged. “House party, I think, and then maybe this 90s themed dance party that my roommate got invited to, but I don’t know. I’m kind of over the whole 90s thing. Where are you going for drinks?”

  She tried
to play it off. “Oh, that new place, what’s it called.”

  “Not that new frat bar.”

  “No, it’s the one with the cocktails. I can never remember the name. Just there is all, anyway. What’s the 90s party?” she said it all fast, trying to change the subject.

  “The copper kettle?” he reached into his pocket and drew out his car keys, giving her a look. “You fancy.”

  Lucy just shrugged.

  “I hope he’s paying,” Stephan called as they both got into their cars.

  Lucy laughed.

  “Me too!” she said, and then they both drove out of the dark parking lot.

  By the time she was walking into the Copper Kettle, Lucy was wishing that she’d gone home to at least change. She felt like she smelled like art supplies, or at least like dust and paint thinner. Her hair looked funny from where she’d had it in a ponytail all day and she wasn’t even wearing her good jeans, she was wearing her comfy jeans.

  As she walked through the swinging doors, she scanned the bar. Even though it was a Saturday night, the place wasn’t too busy. Most of the booths had people in them, and most of the tables, but it wasn’t the bro-heavy college drinking scene she’d come to expect — the reason she rarely went out anymore.

  Moving through the bar, she finally spotted him in a small booth in the back. He waved and stood, taking her jacket off for her and hanging it on a hook not far away.

  Whoa, she thought. She’d never been on the kind of date where the man took her jacket from her.

  “You made it,” he said.

  He had his jacket off, too, revealing a flannel plaid shirt that had its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing heavily muscled forearms and tattoos. Lucy found that she couldn’t help but stare at them: a wolf’s face on one arm, its eyes practically glowing.

  On the other arm, a long oval that looked like it held a saint, but there was only a skeleton inside.

  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, h
er 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.