How to Date a Werewolf (17 page)

As I struggled and made my best attempt to transform, the mangy mutt hauled me farther away. Across the graveyard we went, past the lonely homes of the deceased. Tombs stood as reminders of what once was. I was yanked around one of the crumpling stones.

Jack’s voice carried across the warm night air. He called my name, but I couldn’t answer. Which was just freakin’ great, because there was no way I would be able to explain my disappearance--if I survived.

As the beast carried me away from the group, his helper loped beside us in the darkness, nothing more than a shadow in the night. The faces of my assailants weren’t visible in this murky corner of the graveyard, but I felt the fuzz on my attacker’s paw. The back of my legs scraped against the concrete sidewalk. Thank goodness I wore jeans. It still burned, though.

My natural instincts took over, my eyes changed, the transformation took place and fur covered my body. Claws protruded from the tips of my fingers, the points of which were pink. Remnants from the manicure of my human nails. I continued struggling as my abductor pulled me farther away. Kicking and pushing, nothing worked. His hold felt like a vise squeezing as tightly as possible.

Where were they taking me? Would they kill me right in the graveyard? They laughed, mocking me. No doubt, they were proud of their feat. My claws gouged at my attacker’s paws. If only I could reach his head, I’d jab his eyes out.

I finally managed to move the paw from my mouth enough to speak. Luckily, werewolves’ vocal cords weren’t altered with the change since we kept some human features, enabling us to retain our speech. “Your breath smells like you ate a tuna and egg sandwich, then chased it with a tall glass of buttermilk. Ever heard of a toothbrush? Perhaps a doggie dental bone?”

The other one lumbered along beside us, but he slipped on a stray rock, distracting my captor, and I took that opportunity to break free from the stinky fiend. I shoved the beast until he was forced to release his grasp, then I lurched forward, falling. My body hit the ground with a thud, but I quickly righted myself. My claws held a death grip on my purse--no way could I lose it. Soon my transformation would be complete, so I draped the bag around my neck while I still could.

I turned to face my attackers. They shifted to the left. The moonlight filtered through the trees, giving me a full view of their repulsive faces. Both bared their long, razor-sharp, yellowish fangs, tilted their heads back and let out ferocious howls.

Jack’s voice echoed in the distance, urgency in his shouting--I had to hide from him. If he discovered us, he’d think more wild dogs were on the loose. Except for one teeny, tiny problem: one of the dogs would be wearing jeans and a silky white blouse. There had been no time to strip, and my clothes were ruined.

One of the beasts stepped closer, exposing his fangs in a mocking smile. He licked his lips as if to say I’d be tasty even without ketchup.

Jack’s voice neared--I ran out of time. Letting out a growl, I slashed my claws across the front of my attacker’s face before he thought twice about pouncing. He fell back. But how would I fight two? Without a lot of options, I took off in a lope to escape them.

Both rushed behind me, nipping at my feet. I didn’t know how long I could keep up the pace. The whole disgusting scenario should be a lesson to me: fit visits to the gym into my schedule more often. Oh, and don’t bother dating--it never works out.

“Get away from me, you dirty bastards.” I huffed with undisguised anger.

More howls escaped their lips. Then they snickered to one another as they loped along behind me. Apparently, they were having the time of their lives chasing me. I seriously doubted they were telling knock-knock jokes--no, they were definitely laughing at me.

Power surged through me as I made my way to the opposite side of the cemetery. About fifty feet away, a fence outlined the perimeter. If I reached it, I figured I could easily jump over and maybe lose them.

Crypts whizzed by in my peripheral vision. The wind whipped through my hair. The uneven ground along with my clothing made running difficult. My tail was stuck inside my jeans, making them even tighter. Jack’s frantic shouts became fainter as I ran.

I glanced over my shoulder to gauge how much distance I’d put between us. There was some but not enough, because their yellow glowing eyes loomed dangerously close. Picking up my speed, I darted to my left. Skirting around a tree, within seconds I made a huge leap and scaled the iron fence. I made little noise as I landed on the pavement with ease, a nifty trick I doubted they could accomplish.

“We’ll get you.” The voice echoed from some distance behind me.

A decision needed to be made: which way to turn? There was not enough time to mentally debate. Without giving it another thought, I made an immediate left. My abrupt turn and the fence, luckily, delayed the response time for my friendly canine escorts. Much needed seconds that gave me a chance to escape.

After hopping the fence, I knew I could outrun them. Not to mention they looked as if their gym memberships had been stamped invalid years ago. With my heart hammering in my chest, I ran as fast as I could down the uneven sidewalk. It was dark in the vicinity of the cemetery, and I didn’t want to bump into a dogcatcher, or one of the little old ladies who carries around mace and a big club and beats the hell out of any dog who remotely looks as if it might come near her. On the other hand, seeing a dog wearing ripped clothing would probably make them run the other way. Werewolves move so quickly, so far we’ve never been caught. Knock on wood.

The cemetery was on the outer edge of the French Quarter, so smaller crowds and fewer buildings. But at that moment, I needed a building or two--I needed a safe hiding spot. Running was getting the best of me. A couple of groans and thuds sounded behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. The two stumbled to their feet after scaling the fence. I didn’t dare turn around again. It would only slow me down.

Up ahead, I spotted a church, big columns spread across the front. The air was still and not a single soul was in sight. A few more buildings appeared. I stayed close to them, trying to blend with the shadows. I figured I was safe enough, and the aroma from a nearby restaurant would block my scent.

The area surrounding the church loomed shadowy and I was thankful for the darkness. I hid behind one of the large columns. My panting grew louder, amplified by the silence. I prayed the crazy werewolves wouldn’t hear me. Sucking in a mouthful of air, I tried to slow the hammering of my heart against my ribs. They approached, their heavy breathing giving them away. They panted worse than I did. I heard the sound of their paws hitting the pavement as they sprinted past. Wow, they really were kind of dumb, I chuckled to myself. Dumbasses. They didn’t have a clue.

After a couple of minutes, I figured they were gone for good and poked my head out of the shadows. I glanced around, wanting to make sure they weren’t hiding right around the corner waiting to pounce, but the coast appeared to be clear. A couple in the distance entered an apartment building, but no one else was in sight. I inched away from the church columns, attempting to brush the accumulated dust and dirt from my pants. Not that it mattered--I looked like hell. With the pads of my feet striking the concrete at a steady pace, I ran back toward the cemetery. My thoughts raced just as quickly as my heart. What must Jack think? His date had disappeared into thin air. Chalk it up to another wacky adventure in the recent life of
me
.

As I drew near the tour group, voices chattered, so I paused to listen and catch my breath. “She’s got to be here somewhere.” Jack’s voice filled with urgency wafted through the night air.

My stomach churned. I had no idea what my excuse for running off would be. With the beasts chasing me, I hadn’t had time to think about it much. My heart rate lowered slightly and my panting became less noticeable, but my stomach churned. I was a nervous wreck. What a sight I must have been. A werewolf with a handbag hanging from its neck, loping down the sidewalk like a half-crazed woman headed to a Black Friday sale. As far as I knew, no one had seen me, thank goodness. I imagine if someone had noticed a huge creature running down the street wearing jeans and a blouse, I probably would be aware of the fact they saw me. They wouldn’t have been able to stop themselves from screaming or something.

My mind whirled with thoughts: I could tell him I’d been kidnapped and escaped--nope that wouldn’t work. Or I could tell him I got lost. Hmm. Maybe that excuse actually would work. Someone could easily get lost in a place like the cemetery. To add to the story, I could paint a picture of the whole scene by saying I fell and became disoriented. That would explain my dirty clothing.

Jack’s voice reached panic mode, breaking me from my musings. “We need to call the police now.”

“Maybe your date just left, man. Chicks are like that. If they don’t like you, they’ll dump you with no warning.” Mr. Theatrical needed to keep his two cents to himself. He seemed bitter. He should’ve made an appointment with
Get a Mate
.

Poor Jack--I would never do something so nasty to him. Time was running out and I needed to do something--anything. So I made my decision. I picked my story and I was sticking to it. The lucky winner was: I’d tell him I got lost in the cemetery and tumbled over a grave, hitting my head on the way down. Would he buy it? It was worth a shot.

With all the crazy shenanigans that had happened lately, I didn’t know if he’d believe my tale or simply turn around and walk out of my life forever. But I’d have to take my chances and find out. I couldn’t keep him waiting forever. However, one teeny-tiny problem remained: excess hair still covered my body. Some had faded, but not all. Thank goodness for the cover of night, because what I was about to do would get me arrested if anyone saw. Arrested for pure freakiness.

My transformation back from wolf began. I pulled my purse from around my neck and placed it on my lap. Hair from my hands vanished, but from my face, not so much. From the confines of my purse, I whipped out my trusty razor and shaving gel, then went to work. I didn’t have time for all of my hair to fade. I needed assistance. So there I sat, scrunched down on the dirty sidewalk in the French Quarter next to a cemetery, shaving hair off my face. Could things get any worse?

Actually, things probably could, but I prayed I wouldn’t find out. Trying not to cut myself, I glided the blade across my face. As quickly as possible, I finished shaving and stuffed the razor back into my bag. I pulled my compact out and studied my reflection. Dirt smears marked my cheeks. I stuffed the mirror back in my bag. Any further attempts to improve my appearance would be wasted.

Getting up from the pavement, I eased closer to the cemetery. The group hovered by the entrance and debated over my whereabouts. I’d have to tell them where I’d been--whether I wanted to or not.

My heart pounded again and I felt a lump in my throat larger than I’d ever felt before. Maybe I inhaled shaved hair. A hair ball? Nope, just the words I needed to tell Jack stuck in my throat. It was now or never. I trudged toward the entrance, smoothed out my torn, dirty shirt and forged forward, not looking back. If I’d looked back, I’d probably have skedaddled and never returned.

When I approached the cluster of people, all talking ceased. Everyone grew silent and gaped in amazement. Jack’s back faced me, but within mere seconds, he spun around. I had captivated the audience. Too bad I hadn’t intended to.

Jack’s mouth gaped and his eyes fell to my clothes. As I ran my hands through my hair, tangles stopped my fingers--the knots would take forever to comb out from my curls. No doubt I looked like hell. A hole gaped on the front of my shirt and moss from one of the old oak trees adorned my head.

“Oh my God, Rylie. What happened? What happened to your clothes? Where have you been? Are you all right?” The group stopped staring and stepped out onto the sidewalk to give us privacy. I was left alone to face the inquisition.

“I fell. The sidewalks are very uneven.” A pained grin curved my mouth. Could he sense my nervousness?

“You fell?” Jack scrunched up his gorgeous face.

How many lies did that make that I’d told him? I’d lost count.

“This place is so big, I got completely turned around and didn’t know where you were. I stumbled over a gravestone and hurt my leg.” The leg part popped into my head as an afterthought. Too bad I hadn’t thought of it sooner. I could have limped in. I shuffled my foot a little to highlight my injury. He raised one eyebrow and frowned. I don’t think he bought my performance. An actress I was not.

“Where are your shoes? You were lost? It’s not
that
big in here.” He paused for a quick breath, then continued drilling me with questions. “One minute you were right behind me, the next thing I know, you’ve vanished into thin air. And falling wouldn’t explain the condition of your clothing.”

“It is big here, huge, actually. You’d be surprised how easy it is to become disoriented. And I lost my shoes when I fell.” I batted my lashes to play damsel in distress. If he’d seen me moments earlier with hair and fangs, he wouldn’t think I was so helpless.

He held my arms, then releasing his grip, pulled my face up to look at him. An overwhelming and suffocating feeling washed over me for a brief moment, but I shook it off.

“I was scared for your safety.”

I nodded. “I can see that. I’m sorry about the mix-up.” I looked away. “You’re a very sweet guy, Jack.”

Most men would have assumed I’d ditched them and stopped looking for me--if they’d even look at all.

“Didn’t you hear me calling for you? The whole tour group calling for you? I shouted your name. I think all of New Orleans heard me, for Pete’s sake.”

“Like I said, I fell. It was hard to call out when I was in pain.” Where was the sympathy? Why didn’t he offer any compassion for my injured leg? Apparently an Oscar with my name on it wasn’t in my future.

“Are you in pain? Do you need to go to the hospital?” His frown eased up.

“A little, yes. It hurts right here.” I pointed to my ankle and made a sour-faced grimace. What was one more lie? I already had a mountain of fibs. One more wouldn’t hurt.