The Halloween Collection (11 page)

But, damn, she looked good in leather.
Ralphie surmised the only way Raven could look any hotter was if
she’d changed her pants to crushed velvet, like the kind of fabric
used on really classy and fluffy pillow cushions.

Ralphie licked his lips and rubbed his hands
together in anticipation. He had a good feeling Raven would help
him get laid tonight.

* * *

Ralphie hated going to the dry cleaners. He
hated the rancid smell of freshly pressed polyester. He hated the
stupid little needles they stuck inside his garments. They were
always pricking his fingers when he tried to take his clothes off
the hangers.

But most of all, Ralphie hated the zombies
that worked at the dry cleaners.

He walked up to the drooling, glossy-eyed
clerk and set his jacket on the counter. The waist high barrier was
the only thing separating Ralphie from this pallor-skinned,
decomposing giant, but he wasn’t afraid. Zombies were slow and
stupid and no match for his superior animalistic speed.

“Can you have this cleaned by five?” he
asked.

“Brains,” the clerk answered.

“No, not brains,” Ralphie groaned while
simultaneously scratching an itch on the back of his neck. “It’s a
jacket with a coffee stain.”

He itched harder and hoped he wasn’t getting
another case of the fleas. But with the way his luck was running
lately, he wouldn’t doubt he’d picked up some parasites. Ralphie
only prayed he hadn’t infected his lady pillow friend, too. Crotch
fleas were a bitch to get rid of.

“Brains.” The clerk stretched out both hands
and made a feeble lunge for Ralphie.

Ralphie backed up a few steps while the
clerk continuously rammed the counter separating them.

“Look,” he growled, “do you want my dry
cleaning or not?”

“Dry cleaning.” The clerk dropped his hands
and scooped the jacket off the counter.

“That’s more like it,” Ralphie huffed. “I’ll
be by after work to pick it up.”

“Brains.”

“Whatever.” Ralphie rolled his eyes as he
headed for the door. He turned back to see the clerk still staring
at him with a glazed-over expression. “And try not to touch it too
much. I’m wearing that jacket tonight, and I’ll have a hard enough
time getting laid without the smell of rotting flesh all over my
clothes.”

* * *

Ralphie had sat at his bar stool for over an
hour waiting for Raven to show up. Witches, fairies and French
maids squealed past him, completely oblivious to his presence. He
thought that maybe it was because he’d refused to wear a costume,
but deep down inside he knew that wasn’t the reason the girls
ignored him.

They’d ignored him because he was a mutt.
With the exception of zombies, werewolves were at the bottom of the
immortal totem pole. Most mortal girls didn’t want to take the
chance they’d get Parvo, or worse, strapped down with a litter of
bastard were-babies.

Ralphie sighed into his empty beer mug. The
one thing that could make him feel even more inferior would be to
have Dr. Baker rip out his manhood.

“Hey.”

He looked up, momentarily stunned to see
Raven smiling at him. Strange, but his keen animal senses hadn’t
noticed her enter the club. Yet, here she was, dazzling him with a
tight black velvet witch costume that accentuated her large breasts
and curvaceous hips.

“Wow! You look…amazing.”

He angled his head as his gaze roamed her
backside, or more importantly, her perfect ass. It looked so
pillowy soft and tempting. Ralphie shook his head, trying to clear
his mind of lustful thoughts .

Besides, Raven wasn’t here to screw him.
He’d thought a lot about it on the way over here and it was all
starting to make perfect sense. Buster had paid her to distract him
from girls more on his level so he wouldn’t get laid.

He wished it wasn’t so, but girls like Raven
didn’t fuck dogs. They were more interested in chasing after
pasty-faced vamp cock. Too bad, because all he wanted to do was get
behind her and pound the heck out of that soft velvet.

“Thanks.” She batted her thick black lashes
while playfully chewing on her lower lip. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay.” He patted the vacant stool
beside him. “Wanna drink?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“You don’t drink?”

One black brow arched. “Not alcohol.”

“Okay.” He shrugged. “Wanna dance?”

“I’d rather fuck.”

Ralphie nearly choked on his own spit. He
scratched the back of his head while eyeing her warily. “Well,
there’s plenty of guys here I’m sure would be happy to…”

He gasped as Raven yanked him off the stool.
In the next instant, she pressed her lips against his while rubbing
her generous bosom against his chest.

Ralphie’s erection sprang to life, and he
moaned as she thrust her tongue inside his mouth, the coppery scent
of her saliva blending with his leftover beer residue in an erotic
dance of pleasure. When she reached a slender hand down to stroke
his bulge, he thought he’d died and gone to doggie heaven.

She pulled back and eyed him with a feral
hunger.

“Wanna go to my den?” he rasped.

She tilted her head, as her blood-red lips
broke into a sly smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Ralphie was so horny, he couldn’t get Raven
home fast enough. Unfortunately, the transit bus was especially
slow, and it took over an hour for them to be dropped off, and they
still had to walk five blocks to Alpha’s parents’ house.

“Sorry I can’t afford a car,” he’d said to
Raven for at least the tenth time over the past hour.

“That’s okay.” She squeezed his hand and
smiled.

He briefly wondered what had happened to the
evil demonic bitch he used to work with, but then he shrugged it
off. All that mattered was that he was going to get laid by a girl,
not a pillow.

He frowned while thinking of his special
wench, and he hoped she wouldn’t be too distraught when she saw him
with a new mate.

Ralphie increased his strides while pulling
on Raven’s rock solid, yet petite hand. He shivered as the numbing
cold radiating off her skin permeated his flesh and chilled him to
the bone. He wondered why she was so cold on this unusually balmy
night, but he knew exactly how to warm her up once they got to the
den.

“Hey Ralphie, going trick or treating?”

Ralphie jerked his head at the familiar
nasally taunt of the grade-school mortal. He stopped and turned to
see fat little Loogie Boy dressed as a pirate and sporting a heavy
sack of candy. He knew it was well past the youth’s bed-time, and
he silently prayed some bloodsucking demon would find Loogie Boy
before he made it home.

“No,” Ralphie sneered. “Trick or treating is
for little bratty mortals.”

“What’s the matter?” the kid laughed. “They
don’t give out sofa cushions?”

A low growl broke from Ralphie’s throat.
Damn Buster is
telling everyone
.

Raven tugged his hand. “Forget about him,
Ralphie.”

Just as Ralphie was about to turn his back,
the brat bent over and picked up a stick.

He swung his arm and tossed the stick across
the street. “Hey, Ralphie. Fetch the stick, boy.”

Ralphie’s focus was suddenly drawn to the
projectile that was flying through the air. It was long and pointy
and it was getting away!

He salivated. Must! Get! Stick!

Using his superior animal speed, he ran
after the stick and caught it mid-air with his teeth. He happily
trotted back across the street, but the kid who’d thrown the stick
had vanished.

Damn.

His chest deflated when he realized Loogie
Boy had tricked him. His face flushed as he looked over at Raven.
At the heavy and horrified frown that marred her brow.

He whimpered while removing the stick from
his mouth and slipping it inside his pocket.

Finally, she straightened her features while
heaving a sigh. “Mortals are so annoying.”

He cocked his head. “But you’re a
mortal.”

“Oh, yeah,” she shrugged. “Right.”

* * *

Raven walked a slow circle around the den
while Ralphie scrolled through Alpha’s parents’ CD collection.
After he’d found the CD he’d been looking for, he slipped Rush’s
Hemisphere’s into the disk player. Even though he usually preferred
Heavy Metal, he wanted something more soothing to set the mood. The
Trees was his favorite classic rock song ever. Though he didn’t
understand the cryptic message within the lyrics, he really liked
the banging of the drums and the singer’s high-pitched tenor.

The song went perfectly with a big fat
doobie, but Ralphie hadn’t contributed to the pot fund in over two
weeks. He knew Alpha would find out if he ripped some weed from the
stash. Thankfully, the pack was probably still trick-or-treating.
He hoped he could at least make it to second base with Raven
without them watching and salivating all over the carpet.

Grinning, he looked over at Raven. She was
sitting on the sofa with her hands over her ears.

His chest deflated. “Don’t you like the
music?”

Her features contorted into one massive
scowl, making her look like she’d just eaten a lemon or maybe gone
down on another girl who needed a good douching.

“Not really,” she griped. “Don’t you have
any Donna Summer?”

“Disco?” he gasped. “Hell no, that’s vamp
music.”

“Oh, yeah.” She pulled her hands from her
ears and slowly straightened her face. “I forgot.”

He sat down beside her, and deciding he
didn’t want to waste any more time he reached over and squeezed one
soft velvety thigh. She scowled, then grabbed the black sofa
cushion and clutched it to her chest.

“Where’s the rest of your pack?” she
hissed.

“Trick-or-treating, I guess,” he responded
breathlessly, unable to pull his gaze from the defenseless cushion
caught in Raven’s grasp. Images of a threesome swirled in his brain
and he began salivating.

Both black brows dipped beneath her bangs,
and the maniacal heat that darkened her eyes only heightened the
starkness of her porcelain skin. “So we’re alone?”

“Yeah, baby,” he growled while leaning
toward her.

She smiled while eyeing his throat. “Take
off your jacket, so I can get better access to your neck.”

“You like kink, baby?” he teased while
pulling one arm free from the jacket. “Ouch!” he yelped. “Damn
zombies!” he groaned, as a small needle prick in his thumb began to
bleed.

Her eyes bulged. “Here, let me.” She shoved
his thumb into her mouth with one fluid thrust.

Ralphie thought he’d crème his thrift store
jeans at the erotic ministrations of her tongue swirling and
darting across his sore thumb. He threw his head back and
moaned.

In the next instant, she pushed him to the
floor.

He landed with a thud, moaning at the pain
in his side. “Go easy, Raven,” he griped. “We’ve got all
night.”

“You mean I’ve got all night. Your night is
about to end, dog breath.” She straddled him as her lips curled
back in a snarl.

That’s when Ralphie noticed the two long and
very pointy fangs that extended nearly to her chin.

“Holy shit! You’re a vampire!”

She laughed. “And they say werewolves are
stupid.”

Panic gripped his chest. “So does this mean
we’re not having sex?”

She grabbed the collar of his shirt and tore
it off. “Roll over, dog, while I rip out your throat.”

He bucked under her unusually heavy weight
as she exposed his chest, and he worried that she’d laugh at the
glaringly lack of hair surrounding his dark nipples.

“What did I ever do to you?” he asked as he
struggled to conceal himself with his corduroy jacket.

“We’re mortal enemies, remember?” she
sneered while baring her fangs. “And when I’m finished with you,
I’m going to feast on the rest of your mutt friends.”

He swallowed hard. Getting his nut sack
chopped off seemed like a much better option. Besides, Raven was
looking a lot less sexy by the minute, and he didn’t know if he’d
have the desire to fuck a demonic spawn of Satan, who also wanted
to suck the life-blood out of his body.

He yelped when she lunged on top of him,
pressing her stone-hard body on top of his feeble frame. In the
next moment, she was rolling onto the floor, screeching as she
clutched at a stick which was protruding from her chest. Ralphie
wondered how Raven had accidentally stuck herself with a stick that
looked very similar to the one he’d fetched earlier.

He sat up, eyeing Raven with morbid
curiosity while scratching an itch on the back of his neck. “Damn
fleas,” he muttered.

Her screeching intensified as her body
seized and convulsed. Ralphie only hoped she wouldn’t excrete any
bodily fluids, because Alpha’s mom would not be happy about vampire
piss on the carpet.

Raven’s demonic screams of terror finally
subsided. Her stone cold body went limp as her head lolled to one
side.

Ralphie sighed. Not only did he lose a
really good fetching stick, but as the upstairs clock chimed the
stroke of midnight, he knew it was too late for him to get laid. By
morning, he’d have to say goodbye to his beloved nut-sack, and
worst of all, he feared his loss of manhood would cause him to lose
interest in his one true love. His gaze longingly swept to the
lonely cushion sitting on the sofa.

The back door slid open and his pack
sauntered in. Each wolf was in human form and each had his face
painted as a member of the classic rock KISS band. They were all
clutching pillowcases filled to the brim with candy.

Their eyes bugged when they looked at the
dead vamp on the floor.

Alpha was the first to speak. “Ralphie
killed a vampire!”

“No shit?” Buster came up beside him, eyeing
the vamp, then Ralphie, with skepticism.