
# Dogs, Silver, and a Darling Daughter

Written By: Steven Sterup Jr.

Copyright 2019 Steven Sterup Jr.

Legal Disclaimer - This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

# Chapter 1

Before we get started, let's get some things very clear. I'm a little angry, sometimes I'm even rude, and I'm always crude. Angry about what I am. Angry about my shit hole of a life. And, oh yes, let's not forget, I swear constantly. If you can't handle me swearing up a storm while I describe every sensual part of a woman's body, I'd stop reading right now. Because I will offend you, and I won't lose any sleep over it. I'll try not to be vulgar, but if you continue on, you will read my every thought, unfiltered.

This is my life, along with narrative comments. Yeah, I break the fourth wall, or whatever you would call it in a book, very often. It might be distracting, maybe annoying, but hopefully, it's a little funny. If you can't laugh with me, laugh at me. It won't bother me one bit.

Prepare yourself and buckle up for the explanations that are coming your way. I'm a little long-winded sometimes, but the action is coming after you understand me better. And let's not forget the sex. It's a book about me. There's going to be sex. At least in my head. In reality...that's another matter.

Now that my disclaimer is over with, where should I start? My name?

Clayton Huntsvein. And if you ever call me Clayton, I'll rip your damn head off. My parents had a real sense of humor when they named me. If they had just added a Junior or a III, maybe I'd sound even more like a douche bag. Am I right? I go by Clay. And my last name? I'll get to that. There are things you need to know first.

Another thing. I changed the names of the towns, sometimes even people's names. Why? Do you want to know that werewolves and vampires are doing despicable things in your home town? Oh, wait. This is a fictional story. Yeah, the government isn't hiding the existence of supernatural beings, so you will keep paying your taxes and plodding along at your nine to five job. Yeah, totally fiction. *Wink*

I'm currently sitting in a bar, not a particularly fancy bar either. And I have a few minutes before my current target is finished with his hooker. I mean, his female friend for sexual companionship. I tried, I can't do it. I'll just go with hooker. You've read the disclaimer. If you're still with me, then all bets are off.

And one thing of note. A hooker is a woman...or man, who gives their customer sex for money. I like hookers. They have a good business model, and everything is right there upfront. You pay money, you get sex. Simple.

A whore is a whole other thing. A whore is someone who trades sexual favors for favors of other kinds. This usually involves some sort of manipulation, lies, or even blackmail. I hate whores. Whores are one of the most despicable individuals to walk the earth. They use the burning desire to have sex, which we all have, don't lie. They use this desire to manipulate people. And it is both hateful and loathsome.

Back to my target.

The patrons of this _fine establishment_ were about the stinkiest, drunkest bunch of lowlifes I've seen in quite a while. And let's not forget the décor.

I mean, it had the usual counter. The stools in their proper place and many tables strewn around the room. It was the condition that bothered me. Some tables had duct tape to keep them sturdy. Others had coasters under a leg or two to keep them level. The chairs also seemed to fit with the owner's philosophy of DIY fixer upper. But he or she, I don't want to be called sexist, should have at least mopped the floor or washed the counters and tables. I mean, come on. At least once a year. Is that too much to ask?

So, John Holden, seemingly ordinary name, is upstairs getting his boots knocked by a very professional woman. Ok, I almost made myself laugh with that one. She's a twenty-five-dollar hooker, and I wouldn't pay her that much. Truthfully, I wouldn't fuck her with five condoms on and not even if she paid me. Eww. She looked like a strung-out junkie, but that's beside the point.

I'm what you would call a tracker. Not an official title. We don't have titles. But somehow, people still know how to hire us. Usually through their local police department, but we're not cops ourselves. That would require tests and training. At least, I think so. Either way, it would require a blood test, and I hate blood tests. We are technically consultants to the FBI, which we sort of are, but we don't work for the FBI. Which means no blood tests. And that's exactly why I became one.

So, I'm a tracker. And a damn good one too. Not that I could hold a candle to a Native American doing the same job. Stereotypical? Maybe. Still true.

I did train with some Native Americans for a few months. They didn't require blood tests. Anyway. It was quite enlightening. And damn! Have you ever seen a twentyish Native American woman? Holy shit! That skin tone. Those eyes. Those lips. Their hair, and that... Ok, last chance. From here on out, I'm taking the muzzle off. Last chance to bail. Still here? Ok then, you've made your decision. Hold on to your hats, folks.

Have you seen their asses? I mean, seriously looked. Damn! Almost enough to make me forget about Big John up there and go find me a willing participant for some mental masturbation. Yeah. I'd seriously do that. Find a two-bit hooker and picture some of those fine specimens of real American women while I banged her. Done that before, would do it again. I warned you, no filter here.

She's a hooker. I paid her for sex. What does she care if I'm picturing a Native American woman with an ass that looks like it should be in a museum? The answer? She doesn't give a damn who I'm picturing. She's not doing it because she is in love with me or anything like that. I paid her.

Back to Big John and, by the way, Big John is sarcasm. I'm very sarcastic. He's five foot eight. I'm six-one. He's not big. And he's a werewolf, I'm not. Well, not exactly.

I know what you're thinking. I'm an old man trying to hold on to his glory years. Banging all these young women. Now, I never said I actually got to bang all these women. Hookers sure, the rest? I just think about it. Women don't really like me, and I'm twenty-three. The way I talk? I've probably seen too many old detective movies. But my desire to bed women is not because of my choice of shows nor my age.

I love women. Everything about them. Every soft curve. Every noise they make as... Hold up, Big John is going to sneak by me if I keep thinking like that. I can see a cold shower looming in my immediate future.

I'm a crude, rude, horny son of a bitch. Quite literally. My mom was a werewolf. But I only get half of my oversexed tendencies from her. The other half? Drum roll, please. My father was a vampire.

Dun dun dunnnn!!!

Sometimes I make stupid jokes too. Deal with it.

And you're like. But how is that possible? And I'm like. If you figure that out, please tell me, because it isn't possible.

According to every scientist, century-old vampire, and just plain natural law, I should not exist. But I do. I just don't go around telling everyone about it. In fact, I hide it. But because of some kind of cosmic alignment of the stars or maybe there was something in the air that night. Who knows? But, whatever it was, it caused my father's sperm to not explode on impact with my mother's egg. Eww, right? Sometimes I even disgust myself.

But here I am. All six foot and one inch of me. Brown hair, brown eyes, unless I let my other side out, and muscular as hell. Thanks, mom. I'm just glad I didn't take after my dad in that way. How in the hell would I ever get laid if I was some pasty freak with spindly arms? Hey now. Sometimes I actually do get laid, just not as often as I'd like.

To be honest, three times, in total. And no, hookers don't count. That's like masturbation, does not count as real sex. At least not to me.

So yeah, not only do I desire women, because of mom, I desire women because of dad. Thanks dad. That time was sarcasm. But seriously. Have you ever seen a vampire dude without at least one lady friend? No? Me either. Vampire dudes love women as much as wolves love sex. So, I'm screwed. Or at least I'd like to be.

You get that double meaning? If not, you're reading the wrong damn book.

Another nice _gift_ from dear old dad. I can't have sex with these women without wanting to drain them dry. At least not with human ones, anyway. So, I can't have sex with human women. That's like ninety-five percent of the female population. Sucks, right?

Not that I've ever tried. And I'm too afraid to give it a shot. Killing a woman is not something I could live with. I'm being serious. With the way I feel about women, killing one would probably drive me insane. Literally.

They have blood bags for people like me. Well, there's no one like me, but people of the blood-drinking persuasion. They also have bagged meat for my other half. Not grocery store, cow died two months ago, meat. Real, fresh meat. Hearts, livers, and even kidneys. From real pigs. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it.

And these things are not hard to find, not if you know where to look. We're not out to the world yet, but the governments know about us. I guess they figure that the common man and woman. Not sexist, remember? Would not be able to handle seeing us up close and personal. Eventually we'll come out, but that 'eventually' seems to be taking a good long time.

I'm a big guy, so I do my fair share of eating, but don't go thinking body-builder. More like football running back. Muscles, but not bulging to the point that I need special shirts. Still, I'm somewhat daunting, and I think that's half my problem with women. The other half is probably my attitude.

Most of the time, I get by with everyone thinking I'm a werewolf. The ones that are clued in about this world, anyway. We don't show ourselves to humans that aren't in the know. Which means no one besides FBI, CIA, Interpol, and pretty much anything with an acronym. You get the point. Government types.

Side note, we work with cops mostly. Local cops. They have no clue what we really are, they just think we're scumbags that flunked out of police school and took up the 'easy' job of being a tracker. There's a police school, right? That's a thing? I sure hope so. Would hate to think anyone with a desire to shoot a gun can get a badge. That's scary.

To explain my 'easy' comment. Trackers are sort of like bounty hunters. We find people. People who usually don't want to be found. So, calling me a bounty hunter isn't really an insult. It's a different name for a similar job. Trackers also find cheating husbands and wives. Which makes us sort of like a private investigator. We also help cops locate criminals they can't seem to find (bounty hunter), missing persons (PI), kidnapped kids (cops). I think you get the idea. We're not exactly PIs, we're not exactly bounty hunters, and we're not cops. We're trackers. And the cops somehow think that this job is easy?

Back to what I was saying. Around the folks who do know about our world, it's much easier to be a werewolf than explaining why a vampire doesn't start to smolder in the sunlight. Wolves are much harder to point out. We can hide our other side and look perfectly human. Vamps have peculiarities that stand out like a sore thumb. Not to mention. I don't look like a vampire at all. So, you guessed it, I have to do my blood-drinking in private. If anyone ever realized what I really was, I'd be a science experiment.

When I change though? A smart wolf would know that I wasn't really one of them. I have fangs like a vampire, and my eyes look like a snake, yellow with a vertical slit, vampire eyes. Also, my claws are just a little bit bigger. But I do have wolf teeth as well. My vamp fangs are just nestled nicely beside them. Scary? Hell yeah! That part of my existence makes me proud. The rest, not so much.

And there's John, making his way down the steps. More like stumbling. I'd be shit faced drunk as well if I'd just fucked that.

Women are pretty. A lot of times more than pretty. The thing he just banged looked like a skeleton who slapped on skin. I could barely tell it was a woman at all. Eww. Makes my skin crawl. How could a perfectly beautiful woman do that to herself? I assume she had once been beautiful. She was a woman, of course she had been beautiful once.

Just one more reason to say...don't do drugs kids. You'll end up skin and bones and fucking a werewolf for ten bucks so you can get high. Ok, maybe not, but it is a very good cautionary tale.

So, I made my way casually across the bar. Not that I needed to. It was after midnight, and every man in here was about to pass out. I saw the skeleton girl heading toward the last semi-conscious man as John headed toward the exit.

He was small, yes, but I didn't underestimate him. He was a wolf and a nasty one at that. He had killed three college girls after a wild night filled with cocaine, beer, and stupidity, on their part and his. And his stupidity was about to bite him in the ass.

No, I'm not biting him in the ass. That's a figure of speech. I don't know where he's been. Ok, maybe I do. All the more reason not to bite him in the ass. Who knows what skeleton girl gave him.

My job was not to apprehend him, just to find him. Legally, I mean. But, of course, I could make up a reason that I had to nearly beat his skull in. In this part of Nevada, I was pretty certain that the local PD wouldn't really mind if Big John had a few broken bones and bruises. Just as long as he could heal and stand trial.

I don't consider myself a hero, but for this guy. A man who beat, raped, and killed college girls? That went against everything I stood for. And, believe me, I don't stand for much.

You get the double meaning there? I just stood up to follow him? Never mind. My jokes aren't always as funny as I think they are.

Anyway... John had broken my one rule. That's just fun to say, but it's not entirely accurate. I have many rules, but this one is important. Never harm a woman. Why? Because I LOVE women. They are pieces of art. Their bodies. Their voices. Even the way they move should be immortalized, not raped and killed.

I could feel my claws working their way out of my fingertips as I walked behind the stumbling...for a minute, I almost called him a man. HA! A man? Yeah, he's a man as much as that rock he just tripped over. Men don't hurt women. Men don't rape women! Cowards do!

I could feel the anger rising. To the point of nearly going Red Mode.

What's Red Mode, you ask? I know you asked that. Admit it.

Experienced it only once, unless you count when I was ten years old. I'll get to that. And I never want to do it again. Red Mode is probably not the best way to describe it. Going berserk? Angry beyond comprehensive thought? Both of those work but are harder to say.

Red Mode is when I can't even see straight, and everything goes red. All I can do is feel, and all I feel is rage. Pure, unquenchable rage. Or lust, in the case of human females. Almost did that on more than one occasion. But I'm a good dog. I listened to the voice of mom in my head and ran away.

Back to the rage one. The man I had killed during my most recent encounter with all of my animal side did deserve it. But did he deserve to be torn into unrecognizable pieces of meat and bone. I don't even remember what happened. I just remember feeling satisfied afterward.

This man had killed a little boy. He had kidnapped and killed a child! Even thinking about it brings me to the edge. Only one thing is worse than hurting a woman. Hurting a child!

But I wasn't even close to that, not tonight. What Big John had done deserved punishment. And a swift, although painful, death, would not allow the parents of those girls to get their justice. Big John would spend the rest of his life in jail, paying for his crimes. And believe me, he would pay. I'd make sure of that once he was locked up. I have friends in low places.

Oh, come on. You saw that line coming, didn't you? I had to say it...type it...whatever.

As I closed in on my prey, I sensed his fear. He knew I was there. Someone had warned him. Perhaps his drunken stupor had been for show.

He fumbled for his keys, but he did it too well. He did know. I sniffed the air and caught the scent, just as three more wolves rounded the corner behind me.

The middle one deserved the name Big John. He was enormous. And the two on the sides looked quick and feisty. Perhaps I would get my pound of flesh tonight. These three hadn't raped those girls. These three didn't need to be turned over to the local police. The parents of those girls would get their justice, and I'd get to take out some frustrations. If they attacked and I fought back, I could claim self-defense. You'd believe me, right?

They wore jeans and tee-shirts. It was a bit chilly out, after midnight in the desert is kinda cold, but they're wolves. Cold isn't too bad. Heat, now that's another matter. Ever see a dog pant in the summer? Ok, I don't pant, I just wish I could without looking stupid. Hate the heat.

I had turned to face the three new wolves, and John got it into his puny little brain that I was distracted. Poor John. As he lunged for me, I stuck my hand out behind me and collared him. Yeah, that was a pun. Collar? Werewolf? Never mind. I hit him in the throat, ok?

John proceeded to fall to the ground and gag while I dealt with his friends. Strangely the large one seemed to be the brightest. He turned and ran. The other two? Their brains were about the size of poor John's.

Now, I'm no superhero. Most of my fights go way worse than this. But I do have advantages. Wolves are fast but not as fast as vamps. And vamps are strong, but not as strong as wolves. So, you guessed it. Go mom and dad! Thanks for the genes!

The two stupid wolves shifted and rushed me. I was not about to shift. Not here. Not with witnesses. I told you, I look different. So, I fought them as little old, not so little, me.

The left one slashed at my arm and caught a good portion of it. The claw marks ran deep, and some of my blood seeped out. This caused a reaction in the right one. He looked like a cartoon character as he tried, desperately, to stop his momentum. His heels actually threw up dirt as he skidded up to me. My blood stinks to wolves, if you hadn't figured that out yet.

I smirked at him then punched him in the nose. He proceeded to race after his larger, smarter friend while trying not to gush blood all over his clean shirt.

That left me with the dumbest one in the bunch. His nose must not have been very keen, or he would have probably run too. My blood smells horrible to wolves. Vamps, with their lesser abilities in the scent category, tended to turn their nose up at it, but not with the same passion. Remember the blood test aversion? This is why. My blood is very different. Anyone with half a brain and a high school diploma could tell that mine is different.

After clawing my arm, the last wolf spun and tried to jump on my back while his friends ran away. I swiftly grabbed him by the collar...of his shirt. Did it again. My jokes suck. Sad face.

He was about John's size. I dropkicked him. Seriously. I did. The sound of my foot as it made contact with his ribs. Sheer joy. I cannot express enough, how the sound of crunching bone in a 'bad guy' brightens my day.

I had no idea of this man's crimes, only that he was helping John. Which made him a bad guy.

After my 'friend' stopped asphyxiating on his own blood, he got up, gave me a terrified look, then chased after his friends. Like I said. Most of my fights go way worse than this. I was just lucky that these three wolves had been hired by John. Hell, they were probably only half-breeds. John wasn't the brightest, and certainly not the richest.

Half-breeds, this is where things get fuzzy. Humans can have children with wolves or vamps. Weird right? But wolves and vamps can't have children together. And no, before you ask. Half-breeds can't have children at all. They are born sterile. Cosmic rules are weird.

Real wolves or vamps, for that matter, would have given me a much better fight. Three on one with older, smarter, full-blooded wolves, and I would at least be picking gravel out of my wounds before they healed up. You have no idea how annoying it is to pull a small rock out of a wound that is healing right before your eyes. What's worse is not getting it out and having your body push it to the surface. Annoying turns to pain at that point.

So, having had a way more successful night than I normally have, I called the local PD. I gave them my badge number. I said we don't have blood tests, I didn't say we don't get badges. Then I proceeded to give him the address, case number, and all the other pertinent information. The whole time I sat on top of John to make sure he didn't get any bright ideas about chasing after his friends. I had cuffs, but this was way more satisfying.

# Chapter 2

For the next two hours, not kidding, not exaggerating, two fucking hours. I sat in an interrogation room in the Langston Nevada Police Station. And what a boring interrogation room it was. Complete with three stupid chairs. One on my side of the boring brown table, two on the other. And behind the two chairs was the mirror that these types of rooms always have. You have to be real careful what you say in these rooms. Someone is always watching. Either from the mirror or the two 'hidden' cameras that I clocked when I sat down to wait.

But why did they make me wait two hours to collect my bounty? My boss wanted to debrief me.

Debrief. I can't even say that without chuckling. Every time I say it in my head, I smirk and picture some dude walking in and pulling my pants down, then stealing my underwear. Boxer briefs. Get it? My humor is an acquired taste. If there were such a thing as a humor doctor, I'd be in serious need of a checkup.

By boss, I mean the guy or gal who picked the short straw and had to deal with trackers like me. We're not well-liked by real, went to school, trained, FBI agents and cops. They think we get away with a lot, and we do. We have to abide by the laws, but there are grey areas when you're dealing with vamps and wolves. Reasonable force, for example.

What is a reasonable amount of force to take down a wolf that could tear ten humans apart? Bullets hurt, but even if they're silver, they won't kill us. The silver has to remain in our bloodstream to really do the trick. Decapitation also works, but try doing that from ten or twenty feet away. You have to get real close.

To subdue one of these monstrosities, it sometimes takes quite a bit of force and a lot of quick thinking.

Oh, I forgot to explain about my last name. Huntsvein. So, since I'm sitting around waiting while some douche bag is making me nearly fall asleep. Why not now?

Huntsvein sounds a little strange, right? Yeah. Some of the first humans to capture and 'domesticate' wolves gave them cute names. Not because we didn't have our own last names. It was because the humans wanted to own us. Giving a person a different last name and treating them like a pet was an attempt at ownership. It didn't work out so well. After about twenty years, the wolves got a little help from the vamps who were also ready to lift the blindfold on our world. The last names stuck though. Mostly because the children born during that time were forced to use the names. This was a while ago, but I'm one of the descendants of that bunch.

But doesn't my last name sound a little more fitting for a vampire than a werewolf? Huntsvein? Really? Were these humans stupid or something? Well, they did try to domesticate werewolves. I guess there's my answer.

You probably figured this out by now, but I'll say it anyway. Yes, my father took my mother's last name. Why? Because werewolves are very matriarchal. Canines have male alphas. Werewolves always have females.

Can you blame them? Would you want your dad watching over about a hundred lost and bewildered kids? Or would you rather have your mom watching them? And believe me, werewolves act a lot like kids. Bratty, teenage kids, at that.

That part always amazes me. Not taking her last name. No, that makes sense. My father adored, and I mean, ADORED my mother. The part that doesn't make sense is where my father, the vampire, got married. Seriously. One woman for all of her life? Wolves live a long time. Not forever like vamps, but a seriously long time. Up to a thousand years, I'm told. And my mother somehow got a vampire to be monogamous? She must have been one hell of a woman.

I can only remember her through the eyes of a child. Her name was Emily. A very pretty name for a very pretty woman. To me, she will always be pretty but not sexualized. I mean, who thinks of their mother that way? I can't recall her breast size nor the shape of her ass. Think about your mother for a moment. Can you? No? And if you can, call a psychiatrist right now. You got problems, buddy.

Still no appearance from Mr. 'Short Straw', so I'll just keep blabbering away. You guys need to know this shit anyway. Why not do it while I'm chilling in an interrogation room. This place really is boring.

I suppose you're wondering why I keep talking about my parents in the past. Yeah, you guessed it, they're dead. Probably the reason for my anger and lack of knowledge about my own species. Well, my parents' species, to be honest. I'm one of a kind, remember?

They died when I was ten. Killed by a group of hateful scumbags that stormed into our house. They tied my parents up with silver, removed their heads, and burned their bodies. I don't remember much about that night, but I know what those people did. I remember watching it in horror, but after the fires were lit, nothing.

Not a single member of that group lived. Yeah, I went berserk on their asses at ten years old. I killed a group of full-blooded vampires and werewolves that were upset because my parents married in secret. And I left not one recognizable piece of them for anyone to find. You do not want to fuck with me when I lose control.

You know what? The only guilt I feel is that I didn't change fast enough to save them. Those horrible men and women, if you could call them that, deserved what they got.

So, I've been on my own since I was ten. Scrounging for food in the forest. I moved up north, I wasn't a stupid child. I knew what would happen to me if anyone took a sample of my blood. I lived off the land until I was eighteen and was able to hold down a job. Wolves come out of the forest all the time. It's a very common thing. You turn yourself into the FBI, and they give you an ID. It's all very amicable until they want something from you. Which they always do.

Speaking of which.

The most spectacular specimen of an African American woman came walking into the room, and it was all I could do to keep from drooling on the table. I mean, seriously. She was a real-life goddess. Too bad she was human. I could smell her.

She stood about five foot two, maybe four. Not really sure. I didn't bring my measuring tape, but she was small. Even her hands were small. The rest of her? Well-proportioned is the phrase that comes to mind. Even her damn hair was gorgeous. The curled black strands of pure perfection fell across her shoulders in a way that only added to her beauty. Did she work for the police department, or am I imagining her because I've fallen asleep? I really couldn't say, not until she spoke.

"Mr. Huntsvein?" she asked as she looked at the file that was the focus of her attention. She walked, looking at the file, then placed it on the desk in front of me.

She wore the usual suit of a detective or some other higher up. Grey, but at least she had on a blue blouse under her suit jacket. This woman had a rebellious streak in her. Even her glasses, that were the perfect size for her face, said, 'I want to be naughty'. I like that. Still human though.

"Clay," I stated and held out my hand.

The look she tossed at my hand was somewhere between disgust and disinterest. I'm leaning toward disgust.

"Clay," she said, emphasizing my name while looking away from my hand. "Did you really have to break his larynx?"

"Did I have to? No. Did I want to? That's the real question," I said with a chuckle.

That's when I noticed her badge. There was no name that I could see. It was on her belt and only read 'Detective'. That's when it hit me. Why was I not being interviewed by a uniformed police officer? I was not aware that the higher-ups of this office were so keen on meeting trackers. I must have really pissed someone off.

"We now have to wait at least a week before we can ask him any questions," she said and gave me a death stare. Maybe not a death stare. More like an 'I want to burn your eyes out' stare. But, you know, whatever.

Now it made sense. John was also a half-breed. That's why John and his friends were so easy.

Half-breeds can't heal as fast as us full-bloods can, and I use that term loosely. I am technically full-blooded, whatever I am. This explains the pissy attitude from Miss Detective here. Well, I'm sorry, gorgeous. I didn't know he was a half-breed when I was crushing his voice box. Sue me. Wait. She just might. She is a cop.

"He raped and murdered three young women. I was perfectly within my rights to defend myself when he got three goons to try and kick the shit out of me."

Yeah, I said goons. Too many late-night detective shows.

"I understand that Mr. Huntsvein but..." She lifted her eyes above her glasses then slid the glasses down her nose in a condescending fashion. It didn't work.

Did I mention how hot a woman looks in glasses when they do it right? Believe me, she did it RIGHT! I was not getting condescending from that glance. Later that night, I was certain I'd be dreaming the look and the words very differently. 'I've been a naughty girl, Clay'.

"Clay," I reiterated.

I don't like to hear my last name. Memories, oppression of my mother's people, and all that. Never did get around to changing it though. Oh well.

"Clay. But we need to question him," she continued.

"In a week, you'll get to question him. At least he's behind bars. Now, about my money?" I asked.

I was ready to get out of there. This woman was beyond gorgeous, but she was starting to annoy me. Mostly because she worked for the cops, and the cops have been known to lock us away without provocation. Truthfully, it was usually the FBI, not local cops, but still.

"And in a week. You'll get your money," she said with a very condescending smirk as she stood. This time I got her message.

Still, I liked her. Something about her was fun and interesting. That attitude. Can't say I've had a human stand up to me like that in a long time. Especially not one as small as her. I'm rather large and intimidating. It was refreshing. Even if I wouldn't get my five thousand for another week.

"What's your name, detective?" I asked. Hoping to grab a name to put with that perfect face and breathtaking body in my dreams tonight.

"Detective Burn," she said as she stopped and looked at me.

I opened my eyes wider and leaned forward. She knew what I wanted.

"Candice," she said and smiled a little more kindly, though not by much.

Candice. Now that was a name befitting this perfect woman! Damn!

"I'll see you in a week Detective Candice Burn," I said with a smile that might have made her blush if it weren't for her lovely skin tone. At least that's what I'm telling myself. Then she left.

I followed her out the door and back into the _clamoring_ office at three in the morning. Yes, clamoring was sarcasm. It was three AM. Nothing was clamoring anywhere in this town at three AM.

The few officers that worked the night shift, barely noticed me as I made my way out. Mostly, they looked tired and almost as bored as I had been. Even the officer at the front desk looked like she was about to fall asleep.

I wasn't used to staying up this late. Truthfully, I was getting tired too. It had been a long stakeout to find Rapist John, and I was due a few days of relaxation. But, being nearly broke, I knew I couldn't take even one day off. I would need to eat before the week was up. By eat, I meant drink, and human blood is not cheap. A hungry half-wolf half-vamp was not something that should be out in public. Way too damn many humans around here.

I can survive on animal blood, I had done it for eight years up north. It just wasn't pretty. On animal blood, I become more like an animal. Never heard of any wolf or vamp with a peculiarity like this, but there it is. Most vamps can't drink animal blood and survive, and wolves eat meat, not blood. Blame it on my weird heritage. However, I do need human blood to be able to blend in with humans. I actually feel bad for how I found out.

When I first poked my head out of the forest, I was lucky slash unlucky enough to stumble upon a vamp peddling blood bags. I didn't kill him. I just beat the hell out of him. I had never smelled human blood before. I'm not sure what my parents fed me until their death, but it wasn't human blood.

I didn't even know what it was that I was smelling. I just knew that I needed it and that the vamp dude was in my way. I drank his whole supply in one sitting. Poor guy. I kicked his ass and probably cost him thousands of dollars. Sometimes, being what I am isn't so fun.

# Chapter 3

Ok, let's have a little honesty here. You probably think I'm racist and maybe sexist. Well, I may be a little sexist, just not in the way you think, but I'm not racist. I happen to appreciate the skin color of a beautiful woman. Does that make me racist? No. Did you think I'm white? Shame on you. I'm half-white. Just like I'm half-vamp. My father was a blue-eyed, blonde, white vamp. My mother, on the other hand, was a brown-skinned werewolf woman of Mexican descent.

Does that prove I'm not racist? Of course it doesn't. People with darker skin can be just as racist if they want to be. I'm just not. However, I do like to appreciate the skin color of a woman. It's part of her beauty. But, to be clear, I'm not racist about it. I appreciate white skin, brown skin, olive, orange, yellow, pink, red, you name it. If there was a woman with blue skin, I'd be appreciating it in all its blueness. Why? Because she's a woman. How did you not see that coming?

The sexist part. That I should probably explain further. I'm not a feminist. Don't go thinking that. I just happen to think that women are better at any job that doesn't require physical labor. What? You don't? Think about it. Women are more emotionally open than us, which to me, is a good thing. By us, I mean men. They are a damn sight smarter than many of us. And they are unquestionably more mature than us. Oh, come on, don't lie to yourself about it. Women are more mature.

Ok, how about this? How many times do you see on the news that a group of women got into a bar fight because of a baseball score? Huh? None? That's what I thought. There might be a few exceptions to this rule. But, all in all, women are better than us. We're just lucky they still need us.

Perhaps that's my mother talking through me, maybe I just see what most men don't want to. If it wasn't for the oppression of their gender, we might be a hell of a lot better off than we are now.

But, enough about that. I should get my ass out of bed and start looking for my next target. It's ten in the morning.

I never really know what to call the people I track. Are they marks, targets, suspects? I'm not really sure. Criminals, mostly. But I also track husbands who've misplaced themselves. Wives who've had enough of their unappreciative husbands, and children who've been taken. I'll go with targets.

There is also no law that says I can't track humans. I just tend to avoid those jobs because of the temptations involved. Getting angry at a human offender, then add my hunger on top of it? Recipe for Red Mode. But sometimes I have no choice. The small risk of a violent human versus the possibility of not getting blood. I think I'll risk hurting the offending human because if I don't get money to buy blood, I'll be hurting many innocent ones.

I threw on some clothes...no I didn't shave. I hate shaving. Once every few days is enough to keep me from looking homeless, but any more than that is overkill. What do I care if I'm scruffy? Women won't like me any more if I look like a clean-shaven lawer type. I'm still me. They'll still slap me and throw drinks in my face. Believe me, I've tried.

So, I proceeded to take my scruffy ass to where I get all my jobs. You guessed it. The local police department. Hmm? Maybe I'll get to see that spectacular display of the female form once more. I could have another outfit or hairstyle to file away in my mental vault.

It didn't take me long to reach the police department. I got there at about twelve forty. What? My wolf side needs to eat every day. My vamp side only needs blood once a week. And human food? I just can't say no to it. Every delectable smell hits me with ten times the force that you experience. At least that's what I've heard. How could I not eat from the delicious Cuban food stand that was exactly halfway between my cheap motel and the police department? The answer? I ordered three meals.

When I walked into the field office, I still had one bag of food left. I was saving it for later. *Wink*

So, as I'm browsing my way down the job board. Yeah, we don't even get a computer listing. Just sticky notes on a board. Most humans, the ones that know about us, don't like us much. The rest? They don't like trackers. They think we're lazy scumbags. We just can't win.

Can't say the feeling isn't mutual. Humans persecuted us and treated us like pets. Well, half of my ancestry. The other half? They treated vamps like royalty coming to visit. Just as annoying.

Then I spotted my next job. Easy one, pay in just a few hours. That's what I needed. I was on day four since my last meal of blood, and I was starting to feel it.

I said I didn't have to drink more than once a week. It's better if I drink more often than that. It keeps the cravings down to a minimum when I've had a pint or two more recently. And healing takes more blood from my system. Not that I've had to heal much lately. Rapist John's friend got a few claw wounds in, but that was it.

I could smell her before she even rounded the corner. That perfume was the same as last night. I could also hear the clack of her heels as she approached me. When I knew she was close, I turned and bumped into her...by accident. Really? You believed that?

"Oh, excuse me, Miss Detective Candice Burn," I said as my sack lunch smacked into the files she was holding. I think my stupid grin probably increased the annoyance I received.

She looked at me, then recognition sunk in, and her look got worse.

"Hello, Mr. Huntsvein," she said with just the right amount of exasperation. I was winning her over.

"Clay," I reminded her.

"Clay," she answered. "Just call me Detective Burn."

She had stopped. This was a good sign. I was at least tolerable enough to warrant a conversation.

"Good morning, Detective Burn," I said, abiding by her wishes...for now.

"Morning? It's nearly one," she replied sharply.

"Perhaps you'd like some Cuban food? I ordered three, only hungry enough for two," I said with a sly grin.

Yeah, I planned this. You caught me.

She looked down at the bag.

"How did you...?" she asked, then decided that she didn't want to know the answer. I offered it anyway.

"I smelled it on you last night. I also figured you wouldn't have time to eat today. And I have a few questions for you," I said, oozing charm. Well, at least I thought I was.

This time I could swear she was blushing. Hard to tell with her darker skin, but I think her cheeks were slightly darker than the rest of her face. Or, perhaps it was wishful thinking.

"I...sure," she said, then snatched the bag and headed toward the same room we'd been in last night.

While she walked, I memorized the shape of her ass in those skin-tight pants. The same color as she'd worn last night. In fact, the whole outfit was the same as last night. The only thing different was that she had her long, wonderful hair in a ponytail. How I'd love to grab that ponytail while I... Not here. Not with her. Bad dog!

Have you ever watched a beautiful woman walk when they're sexually excited? It's a sight to behold. They walk with a little more effort and a little more swing to their hips. Almost like they know you're watching their ass. I swear. Any man that wasn't watching Candice's ass at this moment was either gay, blind, or happily married. I was none of those things.

When she sat, I took the seat across from her. Didn't want to get too close. Watching and flirting. That's fun. One step further and it gets ugly. Any kind of affectionate skin contact and my two sides mingle into one ferocious, horny beast.

"So, Candice," I started, wondering if she'd balk at the use of her first name. She didn't. Good sign.

"Yes?" she asked.

She opened the bag and seemed surprised that I'd gotten her order right. I'm half-wolf, half vamp. Of course, I got her order right. The exact thing that I had smelled on her breath last night was sitting in the bag in front of her.

So, sometimes I cheat. I smell better than humans. I see better than humans. I hear better than humans. Why not use that to my advantage? It's not like I'm taking advantage of her. I can't touch her. Not even if I wanted to. And I SOOOOO wanted to at this point.

"Are there any jobs that aren't on the tracker board?" I asked slyly. Sure, I had my easy one. Missing husband. Probably a cheater or a money swindler.

Yeah, I talk like an old TV show. Get over it.

She looked at me with caution in her stare. She hadn't started eating, she'd only pulled out the bowl and the wrapped...thingy. Whatever it was. I had no idea. I had ordered on smell. I'm half Mexican, not half Cuban. I have no fucking clue what the things in her bag were called.

Burrito, check. I know what that is. Taco, sure. I can even say a few more Spanish words. Gotcha! My mom never taught me Spanish. I was ten when she died, remember? And for some reason, she never spoke Spanish around me. My father being from England might have had something to do with that. Nice one, dad. I could have been bilingual, jerk!

"Well..." She looked at me again like she was sizing me up. Trying to decide if I was a good wolf or a bad wolf.

Believe me, if she only knew. I wasn't just a bad wolf. I was the Big Bad Wolf. I'll huff and puff...and blow your skirt up. Ok, she wasn't wearing a skirt, but you get the idea.

"Well?" I asked, giving her the sweetest smile I could muster.

Was that blushing again? Were her magnificently colored cheeks getting just a tad bit darker? I think they were.

She leaned in and looked around. As if anyone could see us. If there wasn't someone behind that mirror, no one could see us. There were no windows. But humans do weird things. I knew there was no one behind the mirror. I would have heard them breathe or smelled them if they were. I guess there were cameras. But were they even on?

"Umm...," she said and glanced around again.

What was she so worried about? Maybe I could make some big bucks today. This looked serious.

"What is it?" I asked, almost whispering as I leaned in.

"There is this strange werewolf that's been hanging around," she said, and I hung on every word.

Hmm. She seemed to be one of the 'clued in' humans. Bonus. I didn't have to hide part of my life from this amazing example of the perfect woman.

"Is he threatening anyone?" I asked, hanging on every word.

If this wolf even got close to Goddess Candice, I'd be shoving him in the nearest dumpster. Possibly with several broken bones and pieces missing. She wasn't exactly mine, but she wasn't his either.

"No," then she looked perplexed. "He just buys me lunch."

I couldn't believe I'd fallen for it. She did it with such skill. This woman was in the wrong profession. Not even a snicker until she saw the revelation wash over me.

For the best performance pulling the wool over a wolf's eyes, Candice Burn!

"Ok, ok," I said with a laugh. "I just wanted to know if you need any special help. Look at my file. I'm sure you have it. I've done the same for other offices."

She took a spoonful of the mystery concoction from her bowl and put it in her mouth. A look of sheer pleasure spread over her face. I memorized the look. Remember, I've tried this stuff, whatever it was. It was good, just not that good. She looked like she was about to have an orgasm of the mouth or something.

"I've seen your file...Clay," she said with a genuine smile this time. Not her fake 'why in the hell am I talking to you' one. "The only _special_ case we have is one I'm not sure you're suited for."

Me not suited for a case? Ha! She had no idea who she was talking to. And I was never, ever going to tell her.

"Try me," I said.

"This is about vamps. Not sure how well they'd appreciate being helped by a wolf," she stated, then took another bite.

I never understood something. Why won't women eat on dates? It's not disgusting. Not unless you slurp your soup or chew with your mouth open. It's food. We all eat. I'm not judging the quantity you take in. I don't care. Chances are, I'm paying more attention to your face than your plate. Or your cleavage, if you're wearing something really nice.

Even if you're a heavier woman. Just wear something that shows off your cleavage. Heavier women have bigger boobs. That's just physics...or is that biology? Seriously though. Any man more interested in your plate is not worth your time. And...side note. If you find one of these men and you're not human, call me. I'd be happy to take his place.

Candice didn't have a problem eating, but then again, this wasn't a date.

"I can handle vamps. Last year..." I started, but she swallowed fast, held her hand up, and I waited for her to speak. I wasn't about to keep talking while she had that cute 'wait just a minute' look on her face. Ok, it may have been more than cute. Sexy is the word that comes to mind.

"This isn't just any vamp. This is Theodore Ressin," she said. As if I knew who that was.

I don't pay attention to vampire politics. Hell, I don't pay attention to werewolf politics. I don't even care for human politics. But, from the tone, I assumed he was an important man.

"Who's that?" I asked.

From her look, you would swear I had just insulted her or something. It was pure shock.

"Theodore Ressin," she said again. As if saying it twice would mean more. "The millionaire?" she asked, I shrugged. "He owns Ressin Tech." I gave her the 'I have no clue' look. You know the one. Where you almost frown and raise your eyebrows, looking like a total fool. The 'I have no clue look.' Great! Now I'm starting to sound like her. Repeating something does not make it clearer! So, she continued to enlighten me. "The electric car company?"

That explains it. I don't drive. Never. I walk or take cabs. I sometimes even take a bus when my mark crosses state lines or makes a run for the Mexican or Canadian border, but I never drive. And yes, I have passports. The FBI can be quite helpful in some ways.

"Sorry, no clue," I replied.

"Well, his daughter is missing," Candice said then spooned another mouthful.

Why did she look so damn good eating this bean soup thingy? The way her face made a little smile every time the substance hit her tongue. Is it getting hot in this interrogation room? No? Well, I'm hot. Great! Now I'm going to have wet dreams about Candice eating soup. That's just weird.

'Mmmm, Clay. You should try this soup.'

I want a bite, but not of the soup.

No. I'm not going to bite her. That was a euphemism. Sheesh.

I ignored her sexy eating and tried to concentrate on the job I was being offered.

"I have relations with some of the vampire families. I'll meet with Mr. Ressin and see if he wants my help. You never know? Tensions between our species tend to fall away when little girls go missing," I said with sincerity.

She again looked at me curiously. Sizing me up to see if I was full of shit. I wasn't. I just don't tell everyone that my _ties_ are because my father was basically vampire royalty. And this Theodore Ressin may have been rich, but he was not royalty. Dropping a few of my ancestor's names should at least get my foot in the door.

Grandpa Phil was a very old, very powerful vamp. Up until the day some wolves staked him out in the sunlight. This was about a year before my parents were killed. I always wondered if that had something to do with the whole mess of my parents being married, but there was no evidence of that.

Grandma Celeste, well...I have no clue. She gave birth to my dad and took off. Remember the part where vamps are not monogamous? My grandparents were no exception. Grandpa Phil raised my dad and didn't do half bad. My dad was stiff and refined, much like grandpa, but also kind and sweet when there were no prying eyes. In public, the perfect symbol of royalty. Behind closed doors, mom and I got to see the real man my father was. I pick on him a lot, but only because I loved him so much.

So, you're wondering why I'm scrounging around begging for jobs to avoid starvation, right? Remember the part about where I can't tell anyone what I am? Just mentioning that I'm the son of Albert Duhnmar, his name before he took my mother's. That would get me killed or worse, locked away as an anomaly to be studied. So, I had no way to collect the family fortune.

Never met mom's parents, and she never talked about them. There was always a strange silence when I would ask about mom's parents. Even from my dad, the silence was eerie. Like they refused to admit that she even had parents. Weird, right?

Candice had been strangely silent for a while. She was eating sure, but she was skilled enough to talk between mouthfuls. And what was that look she was giving me? Holy shit! Is that lust, or am I misunderstanding her love of the bean soup? I think that's lust! Hot damn! This just got more fun!

"What is it?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. If she admits it, I have to tell her no. If she keeps it a secret, we get to have all sorts of fun flirting and teasing.

"Not important. I'll grab you the names of his security. You can call them and give it a shot. Not like any vamps are stepping up to take the case," she said, then left her food and walked out.

I knew why no vamps had volunteered. Powerful vamps didn't like each other. It's closer to hate, but still. You were either a subordinate or a rival to a vamp. And the subordinates of one vamp did not want to get caught volunteering to help another. That's suicidal.

Within a few minutes, she returned with a slip of paper. Not a sticky note, like we wolves always get, a real, full sheet of paper with names and details. As she handed it to me, she smiled, and I saw it again. That is lust! Hot Damn!

She had none of her sexy soup in her mouth this time. Oh, that's so what I'm calling that Cuban bean soup thingy now. 'Candice, would you like me to bring you some sexy soup?'. Seriously though, I'd bring her sexy soup every day and just watch her eat it. It's not sex, but it's as close as I'm getting from Goddess Candice.

"Thanks for lunch," she said, then headed back out.

"But you're not done," I said as I watched that perfect ass stop. I had to force my gaze up to her eyes as she spoke. I was sort of hoping she'd eat more sexy soup while I sat there mesmerized.

"I'm done," she said, then a devious look came over her. "Would you mind?" she asked and pointed to her leftovers.

Mind? I'd roll over so you could pet my stomach, like the dog I am, if you asked like that. Ok, no, I wouldn't, but not because I didn't want to. Because of what would come next.

I think you know how I responded to her question. Yep. I picked up her leftovers and tossed them in the trash for her on my way out. Good dog.

As I was leaving, I wondered what the 'Not important' was about. What was she going to say? Although I'm glad she didn't ask for a date or something, I'd really like some of that something right now. Just not with her.

I never realized watching a woman eat soup could be so sexual. I was going to need to find some relief really soon if I kept hanging out with Candice, The Goddess of Sexy Soup.

After my lunch with the magnificent Candice, I headed to meet Carl Vurnal, head of Ressin security.

# Chapter 4

On the way to meet with Carl Vurnal, I stopped by the motel. When I walked up to the registration desk, I put on my best smile. The lady behind the counter was older, in her sixties, but like I said. All women are beautiful. And she was no exception.

She had grey hair, and her age was visible on her face, but she was still a vision. And sweet as hell. I said all women were beautiful. I didn't say I wanted to fuck every one of them...just most of the ones in my age range.

"Mrs. Genet?" I asked to get her attention away from whatever soap opera she was watching. I have no room to judge. I stay up late watching old detective shows. Am I any better?

"Clay!" she exclaimed and rushed around the counter in granny fashion. And by that, I mean, she scuttled. Her pink fuzzy slippers would fall off if she lifted them too high. And her sparkling shirt might lose a few rhinestones.

I took the hug from the woman who barely made five-foot by bending nearly in half. But it was worth it. I don't feel hunger when my emotions are purely platonic. I held her longer than I probably should have. Though she didn't complain.

I've missed hugs like this. Fine, I'll admit it. I miss my mom.

"Can I ask a favor?" I asked her, my regret showing.

"Sure, what do you need? OH! Just a minute. Rachel is about to tell Sam...," she paused, engrossed by her program. I waited patiently. "HA! You're a fool, Sam! She doesn't love you!" Then she turned to me. "She slept with Sam's brother."

"Oh, my," I said, trying to show interest. I needed a favor, it was the least I could do. And this woman was kind beyond belief.

"How can I help you, Clay?" she asked, returning her attention to me. She made her way back around the counter and took her seat. She was still watching the show, but I knew I had her attention.

"I know this is against the rules, but I need to know if there is a Matt Mils staying in this hotel."

I called it a hotel for her benefit. It wasn't. Her husband had died ten years ago, and she worked this counter part-time to give her some time out of the house. It wasn't Mrs. Genet's fault that this place was such a pit.

"For you," she said, returning her gaze to me. "I'll take a peek."

You see, I saw the name Mat Mils on the tracker board and thought it sounded familiar. I'm pretty sure I overheard him and his 'lady friend' talking outside my door this morning while I was half asleep. I hear pretty well. If they weren't here, they at least had been here at one time. That's why I took the job, case, sticky note, whatever you call it.

I waited patiently as Mrs. Genet scoured the pages. I didn't want to interrupt her, but she had missed it. I saw the name fly by. He was here. I just hadn't caught the room number.

"I'm not seeing it," she stated.

"I think he checked in the night after me," I said, not wanting to hurt the woman's feelings. I only knew that because I'd seen his name written on the sheet for the day after I checked in.

She flipped back then saw it.

"Yes. Here it is," she stated.

"Is he still here?" I asked, hoping that my sudden lucky streak continued.

"Why, yes. He's still here. He is in room one sixteen." Then she put her finger to her lips. "You didn't get that from me."

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

"Just don't hurt him too much. He's cheating on his wife, but it's not like he killed anybody," she said and gave me the strangest look.

A look that said she knew what I was and what I did for a living. Smart woman. I really underestimated her. I would not do that again. Her eyesight was failing, but her mind was as sharp as any I'd seen.

After that, I walked through the dreadful heat of the Nevada sun as I made my way to room one sixteen. I could feel the sweat pooling in the center of my back and dripping down the middle of my chest. This heat sucked. Why had I taken a job in the fucking desert? Not exactly the desert, but you know, close enough.

When I knocked on the door, I heard scurrying inside. A woman giggled gleefully, then I heard a thump.

"Who is it?" a man's voice rang out.

I thought about saying 'room service' just to be funny, but decided that I would be the only one laughing at that joke.

"Detective Spears. I have a few questions for you, Mr. Mils," I said with confidence.

Yeah, I lie. But only to bastards that cheat on their wives. And perverts. And rapists. And baby snatchers and... Ok, I lie a lot.

When he opened the door and saw my white tee-shirt and blue jeans, he knew I was lying. Actually, I think my size might have been the more important factor in his decision. He tried to slam the door in my face.

Despite his best efforts, I grabbed the door and pushed my way in.

"You can't do this," he complained.

Well, legally, no, I can't. But I don't really like rules. Well, except for my own rules. I could get brought up on charges of false imprisonment or kidnapping, but was a cheating husband really going to press charges? His wife had been the one to hire me. I think I could get her to stand up in court for me. Not that any cheating husband had ever had the balls to take me to court. But anyway, back to Mr. Cheater and Miss Bimbo.

The woman he was with cowered behind her sheet. I'm not saying that I completely ignored her well-formed body in the thin sheet, but I tried. Thankfully I had Candice's picturesque body to keep my mind off the woman with fake boobs.

Seriously, they were too large and too firm for a woman her age and body size. She was in her mid-thirties and thin. They looked like balloons taped to her chest. I said I tried not to look. I didn't say I succeeded.

Why do women do that to their bodies? A little fine, for self-esteem. But cantaloupes stuck to their chest? That's just ridiculous and unnecessary.

Brace yourself, rant incoming.

If a woman has to have boobs larger than a man's hand to get his attention, does she really want his attention? I mean, come on. I have never once looked at a woman and said, 'she's cute, too bad her boobs are so small'. Never. Not once. All women have asses too. And the part between their thighs. Am I making my point? You take her the way she is. Her boobs may be small, but their still fucking boobs!

I understand some flat-chested women wanting a little more up front. That makes sense to me. If it is hurting your feeling of self-worth, ok. I get that. But go for Cs, maybe Ds if your body type supports it, but not EE. And not ones that look like you're preparing for nuclear war. Boobs should bounce. They should be soft.

And if you're offended that I called them boobs, pretend I said breasts or tits or whatever word you prefer. I happen to like the word boobs. The word itself is a bouncy word. Not to mention, it's spelled with two O's. The word boob reminds me of boobs. I love boobs!

Ok, rant off.

Her blonde hair was curled and hit her collar bone. She was pretty but pretty didn't excuse what this man had done. And his wife was probably just as pretty. Probably not scientifically enhanced, but I just don't see the allure of fake boobs. I know. I already said that, right?

I proceeded to cuff Mr. 'Can't keep it in his pants' and took him home. In a cab. Can you imagine what was going through the driver's head? I had a handcuffed man in his backseat. He seemed to accept the badge, but I'm sure he was wondering why I didn't have my own car. This is one of the situations where I regret my decision to avoid driving.

Taking a cheating husband home in the back of a cab was not on the top of my list of favorite things. But, most of the time, I get to call the cops to pick up my targets. This was just some quick cash. So, I'd deal with the discomfort.

As we walked up to the house... Yes, I tipped the cabbie. I had a handcuffed man in his backseat. Of course, I tipped him. Anyway, we walked up to the front door, and I awaited the final verdict. As it opens, I come to the conclusion faster than Mr. Mils started begging.

Mr. Mat Mils, I find you guilty of...stupidity.

The woman who opened the door was at least twice as beautiful as the woman Mr. Mils was staying with at the hotel. And she was all-natural. Not small either. What in the hell was this man thinking? Having a woman who looked like this at his house? Why had he even considered stepping out on her? I understand there might be marital differences. Maybe she was a bitch. Maybe it was his fault. Either way. He had made the commitment. If he wanted out, be a man and tell her. Don't be a fucking coward and run around behind her back.

Mat's wife had hair that looked similar in style to the blonde bimbo from the motel room, only auburn. It was a nice mixture of brown and red. Her eyes were a greyish green color that made her look even more stunning. She was a few years older than the bimbo, but still? Was this man blind as well as stupid?

I didn't even get a chance to see her ass. She had on a house dress. But with a face and chest like that. I bet it was amazing. She was at least a seven. Maybe eight or nine. Just short of being a ten, but not by much. I've met two tens in my lifetime. She was close, but not quite.

One was a human woman, mid-thirties. I think she was from India, and she had the most enchanting accent. I met her at an airport while I was tracking some lowlife. I lost the guy because I couldn't stop talking to her. She was married, of course, and if I ever catch her husband cheating on her... How much jail time do you think they'd give me for killing a cheating husband? Not much, right?

By the way. In my book, a ten is 'I'll give you anything you want, just talk to me'. Believe me, ladies, there are tens out there. But do not preoccupy yourself with being my ten. Ten is different for every guy. Just be what you are. You're someone's ten.

And then there is the other ten I've met in my life. The one I met a few days ago. Yep, Candice. Maybe Candice is more than a ten. Not sure yet. If she gets any more perfect, she might just break the damn scale.

And yes, above ten has everything to do with attitude and the way she speaks to me. I'm not completely shallow. Just mostly.

But let's get one thing clear. There can only be one woman above ten for each man. There is never more than one at a time. The above ten is the one you can't live without. You'd give your life for her. And you'd give up almost anything to spend your life with her. At least in my book.

And to all you dudes snickering at my mushy sentiments. Good luck when you finally meet _her_. She'll mess you up. She'll turn you inside out. And if you're lucky, she'll give you five minutes of her time. But make no mistake, if you miss your chance or you fuck it up, you'll never be the same.

Back to Miss 'Almost a ten'.

I'm standing in front of her with her cheating husband, and she's nearly in tears.

"Why, Mat? What's wrong with me?" she asked rhetorically, but I just had to answer. I couldn't let her think that Mat's decisions had anything to do with her.

"Ma'am," I said. I didn't know her name. Well, other than to call her Mrs. Mils. And I wasn't sure she wanted to be called that right about now.

"Yes?" she asked. I could see the tears pooling, almost ready to fall. I couldn't help myself.

"Ma'am. There's nothing wrong with you. There's something wrong with him. If he'd rather go screw some puffed-up version of a Barbie doll, then find yourself a man who appreciates you." I watched the tears vanish as her cheeks turned pink. Then I leaned in for the final push. "I've seen her," I whispered. "She's a step down. I think your husband might need mental help. At least a visit to the eye doctor."

The lustful stare I got in return let me know I'd done two jobs today. Punished an unfaithful husband and given a neglected wife, and stunning woman, the courage to leave him.

"Thank you," she replied and handed me a check that was for a hundred over what the bounty was.

"Ma'am. The bounty was five hundred," I said.

I can be nice when I want to. I can even be polite. In my head is another matter. But speaking to women. I can do polite and respectful with the best of em.

"It's a tip. You earned it," she said with a wink, then pulled her husband inside, right after I removed the cuffs.

I could hear the argument, mostly from her side, as she ripped that pathetic excuse for a man a new one. While I walked out of their quiet neighborhood, I wondered. Would she really leave him? Had I given her a glimpse of what her husband denied her? She deserved to be worshiped and fawned over. Not left alone while he stuck it to a blonde whose chest probably cost more than their car.

Part of me wanted to check up on Mrs. Mils in a few weeks. But another part of me knew that it would be a mistake. Those stares would turn into actions if she was free of that man. Then I would have to tell her no, undoing everything I'd just tried to accomplish. Sucks being me.

# Chapter 5

Later in the day, it was a long walk, I arrived at Ressin Tech. I was not impressed. It was large, with plenty of glass and steel, but it was ordinary. It was a building. It was a large building, but it was still just a building. I never understood why people get so mushy over large buildings. Ooo Ahhh. It's so large and... It's just a fucking building!

Yeah, I was in a mood. Approaching vamps did that to me. I'm sure the two-hour walk in one hundred degree weather wasn't helping anything either.

When I walked in the door, I could feel their eyes on me. They saw what I wanted everyone to see. They were aware of the wolf that I was supposed to be but not my vamp side.

All the security guards, four in total, looked nearly identical. Their hair color varied, two brown, one black, and one bald. But they were pretty much the same vamp, in the same boring blue suit and white shirt. They even had matching earpieces.

Inside, the place was nice. An elevator across the nearly empty, marble floor. A large reception desk that had a wooden look to it, with a matching marble countertop. There were various plants around the place, and I'd bet they were fake. It all seemed clean and normal. Humans would have no idea how many vampires worked here.

I walked up to the counter, ignoring the hateful stares and angry faces around me. I didn't even flinch at the receptionist's disgust when she turned to face me. Truthfully, I didn't flinch at the receptionist's response because she was a pretty woman. I was too busy admiring her to give the look much thought. At least, at first.

Her red hair was cut short. It almost looked like a pixie cut. She had a thin nose that seemed a little too thin for her face, but it wasn't distracting. From where she sat, I could see a small amount of cleavage, and it looked decently abundant. Even her blue eyes were pretty. But nothing would ever happen between us. She was a vamp, rather a half-breed vamp, and I portrayed the part of the wolf too well.

I've had a few vampire women and a few half-breed vamps. All but one, hookers. But mostly because these were the only ones willing to take the risk. And they were quite enjoyable. Vamps are a little kinky, in my limited experience. The one even wanted me to transform while I fucked her from behind. I didn't do it, but I seriously considered it. I was just too afraid I'd lose control after I changed. I didn't want a night of passion and mutual pleasure to turn into a police visit.

So, as I stared at the disgusted look on the receptionist's, otherwise, beautiful face, I heard him coming up behind me. Vamps aren't quite a stealthy as they think they are. Sure, they can fool humans. But not a wolf. And certainly not...whatever I am.

I spun to face him. And judging by the look on his face...and his name tag. I'm not psychic. I'm just very observant. I know it's the man I'm here to meet.

"Mr. Vurnal," I said, sticking out my hand. "Clay Huntsvein." I hate hearing my last name, hate saying it even more. But, etiquette and all.

"What do you want, dog?" he asked with malice, ignoring my hand.

I didn't take offense. I am a dog. I'm a very big, very mean dog. One that will rip this young vampire's arm off in a heartbeat if he doesn't remove that 'I'm better than you' look from his face. Maybe I took a little offense, but I didn't let it show.

"I work with the Duhnmar family, and I wanted to know if you needed an experienced tracker to help find Mr. Ressin's little girl." I said this as nicely as possible. Squeezing my claws into the palm of my hand. Not enough to produce blood. That would turn out badly. But it stung.

"We have it under control," he said and turned, our interview obviously over.

But wait. There's more!

"I'll just let Mr. Duhnmar know that you turned his help down. I'm sure Mr. Ressin will understand. We don't want to step on any toes." I turned away as well, and could barely stop the smile that was forming. But I did. So help me, I did. I pushed my claws into my palms nearly to the point of breaking skin, but I hid my stupid fucking smile.

"Mr. Huntsvein," he said, panic in his voice.

This, I should probably explain. I do have one relative left on my father's side. Chadwick Dunhmar. That name. Oh, man. And I thought Clayton was bad. Anyway, distant cousin, I think. He got the entire fortune when my dad died. I don't know him, and I'll probably never meet him, but these vamps know about him. Every vamp knows about him. Vampire royalty, remember? Refusing, what in human terms would be considered a prince, is not something a vampire wants to do. Not one that enjoys living.

I stopped and turned as slowly as I could. This part I live for.

"Yes? Mr. Vurnal?" I asked as innocently as possible. My smile might have slipped out a little.

"Truthfully, we could use your help. You're a qualified tracker?" he asked.

And there it was. The begging. I like it more when it's a woman, but that is for an entirely different reason.

"Yes, sir. I've helped the Duhnmar family in private for four years now. Never lost a mark." Part of that is true. Everything except for the Duhnmar part. I've really never lost a mark. Well, except for that one guy that stole the kid. But I didn't really lose him, so much as I lost parts of him. I know where he is. Mostly.

The elevator ride was hilarious. At least to me. You have to picture this. I'm a big guy. Not huge, but big. And the four security guards that escorted me upstairs to meet Mr. Ressin were vamps. Vamps don't have muscles, and they are never very tall. These guys were maybe five-ten. I stuck out like a sore thumb. A large, dark-skinned man, in the middle of four pale vamps. I'd like my spotlight, please.

When we got to Mr. Ressin's office, he scowled at me. Yes, an actual scowl. Furrowed brow and everything. Then, after Carl whispered in his ear, he pretends I'm his best friend in the world. He shot forward, hand stuck out, grinning from ear to ear.

Theodore Ressin was about the same height and complexion as the guards, but he looked different in the face. His beady little eyes darted back and forth. His smile was cheesy and forced. A salesman's smile. I'd rather vamps scowl at me and tell the truth with their face. Then there was his hair. I think the dude was bald, but he wore a blonde hairpiece on his head. This guy looked like a forty-year-old car salesmen, complete with toupee.

A little more about vamps. To answer any lingering questions. Yes, they burn in the sun. Like, poof, bonfire. No, they don't hate crosses. Some even go to church at night. Silver burns and can kill if left in the bloodstream. Decapitation kills them and removing their heart, but little else.

Vamps do not regenerate like full-blood wolves, but they do regenerate if they drink blood. It just takes longer. They can freely travel over water. Don't even understand the basis for that one. And they do age, sort of.

It's like their body ages, then decides to just stop at some point. Some vamps look like they are in their teens forever. While others continue to age until they look forty or fifty. No one is really sure what causes it. If it's their diet, genes, or other factors in the vamp's life. But they always look malnourished with a greyish, almost dead, tint to their skin. Which, sadly cuts out another percentage of females. Half-vamps, sure, some of the most beautiful women I've ever met. Full vamps? They look more like that skeleton with skin from the bar. Though they still have all their teeth.

Oh, and the biggest misunderstanding about vamps. Werewolves too. We cannot turn humans. Not with a bite, not with blood, not with a scratch. You are born a wolf or vamp. Sorry folks.

"Mr. Huntsvein. I've heard so much about you," he stated, then shook my hand for far too long.

Salesman, told ya. He didn't even know my name until ten seconds ago.

I think he was trying to be intimidating. He squeezed my hand tightly, and I didn't even bother to squeeze back. Seriously. He's a newer vamp. Fifty years old at most. I was not impressed.

Now a five-hundred-year-old vamp? Those guys are powerful. I've fought one. And by fought, I mean, he kicked my ass in about two point five seconds. It was a misunderstanding, and he apologized, but I'll never get that little bit of pride back.

"Call me Clay," I said, and he repeated, like most polite people do.

"Clay. Have a seat. And call me Ted," he said, motioning to a chair in front of the strangely shaped glass desk.

You catch that? I didn't repeat his name. I've never been, and probably never will be, mistaken for polite. Besides, his whole attitude was annoying the hell out of me.

The desk was in the shape of a kidney, with a small cutout for his chair. The glass was clear on top with dark black stone underneath. Giving it a 'rich and powerful' feel.

The room was nice. Glass windows filled the room, but they were tinted with UV protection. Many vamps did business in the day. Humans being ninety-five percent of the population and one hundred percent of the food source tended to make them conform.

The rest of the office was sparse. There were a few different layers to the room, giving it the look of slabs of marble laid out on top of each other. The area at the edge, near the windows, was at least a foot higher than the rest of the room. And follow the steps downward, you get to the lowest central point, where the desk sat.

While I sat on one of the two, overly expensive, yet very comfortable, chairs. Ted sat and smiled at me widely at first. Then his true concerns came out.

"Melissa has been missing for days. She got into a cab at a little after midnight over a week ago and hasn't been seen since. No clues, no ransom, nothing," Ted said with genuine concern.

"You make electric cars here?" I asked, pulled out my notepad from my back pocket, then searched for a pen. Carl reached across the desk and handed me a pen.

I don't really take notes. It just helps the client relax. I usually just doodle in the pad. Making incomprehensible scribbles that most people would take as shorthand. It's not. I keep everything in my head.

"Yes," he replied.

That was the easy question. The rest get much harder...Ted.

"Boyfriends?" I asked.

"Well, maybe," Ted stammered. Then he looked at Carl.

Carl leaned forward.

"She has been seen with..." he cleared his throat. "A wolf."

I had to lift my eyebrows at that one. Daddy's little sweetheart went for the bad boys? Who would have seen that one coming? Vamps don't like wolves. Not unless they're trying to piss daddy off.

"Any idea on a name?" I asked, making small circles in the pad, then crossing them and putting eyeballs inside. Then I scribbled them out. Making smiley faces on my notepad might piss daddy off as well.

"It wasn't the boy. We..." Again Ted looked to Carl.

"We questioned him extensively," Carl relayed.

I lifted one eyebrow.

"Is he still alive?" I asked.

"No silver. Just a friendly..." Before Carl could finish, I stepped in.

"Beating? A friendly beating?" I interrupted.

"Well...umm...yes," Carl replied.

"If he did have any idea where Melissa was, he won't be telling us anything now," I said in the most disappointed voice I could muster. It was true. Even to me, he wouldn't say a word. Not after they beat him. I know how they did it too.

One on one, a wolf from the same century as the vamp will win. Five on one? Yeah. They took turns beating and holding this poor boy whose only crime was being attention bait for daddy.

I was starting to paint a pretty good picture of this little girl. Teen with daddy issues. Flaunts her indiscretions to garner a moment of daddy's time.

"Mind if I start by looking at her room?" I asked and stood.

I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. Well, two ideas. One. She had run away to get daddy's attention when the bad boyfriend didn't work. Two. Someone had kidnapped her. The room would tell me which trail to follow first, but I was leaning toward runaway.

"We've checked everything in there," Carl started but saw the look on my face and halted his objections.

I pointed at my nose.

"I might sense something you've missed," I said.

"What is your conclusion so far?" Ted asked, also rising. I could hear the fear in his voice. And I knew what I had to tell him.

"Abduction, most likely." I had to throw out the extra 'most likely'.

Don't want someone calling me a liar when it turns out that she was just vying for daddy's attention. Which was what it probably was. But I was not going to throw that option out there for daddy to hear. I wanted the job. Hearing that his daughter may have run away would have convinced him to toss me out on my ass.

"I knew it," Ted said.

I could hear the relief in his voice. He had suspected runaway but hadn't wanted to admit it. So, he knew his daughter was having issues with him. Perhaps when she was returned, he'd do something about it.

This only enforced my runaway idea.

"I'll need a list of everyone that has a personal grudge against you. Taking a child is rarely business-related. Too personal for that. And, more importantly, they don't want you doing it back to them." I said this with a little laugh, but no one joined me in my amusement.

It took thirty minutes for Carl and his buddies to escort me to Ted's lavish estate. Complete with multi-layered pool, fed by a fountain. Yeah, being rich sucks, doesn't it?

As I made my way through the lavish, almost ranch style house, I notice something. Very little of daddy's angel was in it. Was every scrap of her life stuffed neatly in her room? That's just sad. No iPads, no clothes. Not even shoes were in any other room. I was starting to have some sympathy for this girl. And beginning to latch onto the runaway theory.

Then I walked into her room, and I was nearly certain now.

The walls were pink. The bed had a peach-colored comforter and frilly lace around the edges. Then I looked at the shelves.

Many shelves were placed everywhere and arranged around the room in a stair pattern. Each showing off a trophy or photo of Melissa's accomplishments. I felt bad for the kid. All the photos of Melissa were of a cute blonde girl with perfect clothing and the perfect smile. But, and this was the most important thing. None of these accomplishments were anywhere else besides this room.

This was daddy's shrine to his daughter, even though she was still alive. She was a pet. Something to show off. A thing he possessed. Not a loving daughter that sat on his lap. She did everything perfectly because she had to. I almost didn't feel like finding her. She was better off. But, perhaps, I was wrong. I've been wrong more times than I can count. Maybe she had been abducted.

Then I started to pay attention to the photos. There was a picture of her receiving the award for the spelling bee. She was standing in the sunlight. Daddy's little pet was a half-breed. My eyes kept scouring the room, taking it all in, searching for something to lead me in a direction. And that's when I saw it. The most recent picture of Miss Perfection.

"Holy...!" I slapped my hands over my mouth to stop it, but it was too late.

Carl rushed in and looked around the room.

"What is it? What did you find?" he asked.

"Umm...is she a half-breed?" I asked to cover the real reason for my outburst.

"Yes, is that a problem?" Carl asked indignantly.

"No. Just helpful," I covered.

When Carl was satisfied, I picked up the picture, and stared, and stared...then stared some more. Or maybe you might call it ogled. Yeah, it was that bad...umm...good.

I expected a thin, weak-looking girl. What I saw was a busty, curvy, half-breed twentyish-year-old woman. Her blonde hair had been straightened, and her outfit no longer looked like Miss Perfection. She wore a tank top and blue jeans, and I swear. If she hadn't been my current case, I would have loved to spend several hours getting to know her much, much better. I mean, she looked like she could moan with the best of em. And I'd be delighted to teach her how. With those hips, I might be learning as much as I was teaching. Damn! She was hawt! Not hot! Better, more sexual. SHE WAS HAWT!

Candice and Melissa would have to wrestle for my mental attention this evening. Not that there was much of a contest in reality. I couldn't have Candice, but Melissa. She was a half-breed. Her I could have.

Despite me stumbling across an image that would last me months, if not more, there was nothing in this room that merited my attention. If Melissa had run, she'd done it with help. It sure looked like everything was still here. Only people with help know not to take anything. It leaves open the option of abduction. And if you're really trying to leave, it's best to have daddy's goons chasing their tails.

# Chapter 6

I spent the next day researching Melissa Ressin. Found her social media pages. Did all the normal things that trackers do. And found absolutely nothing. Nothing that stuck out to me that is.

This girl had just vanished. She took no clothes, no phone, no anything. She didn't say goodbye to her friends. She had many. And not a peep on any of her various social sites.

I was starting to lean more toward abduction. Because if she had run away, I'm not even sure I could find her. She had a professional helping her or something. That was the only explanation that made sense. That was if it wasn't abduction.

I had found out that Melissa was twenty-six. Only slightly older than me. I could disappear like that, but could she? A girl in college, who was majoring in criminal law? Come on. That's like asking someone working at a fast-food restaurant to make you Filet Mignon. Yeah, they could do it, but would it be any good?

I decided to give up on this train of thought and went back to the abduction theory. I had started with the top name on the list and was now at a warehouse waiting for Don Johnson, no kidding and no relation, to come out and play. It was nearly sundown, and I was about to give up.

You know how hard it is to have a stakeout when you have no car? This is another reason why it would be good to drive, but I'm stubborn. So, I sat behind some boxes, pretending to be homeless. I probably didn't look too homeless, but I didn't really care if Don saw me.

This guy was a wolf. He owned a shipping company that brought in all the parts for Mr. Ressin's business. I had no idea what those parts were. I never went to high school. Mostly learned on my own. So, the parts that comprise an electric car were not in my wheelhouse.

Like that pun? No? You know what? Kiss my ass. That one was good!

I was starting to worry a little until Mr. Johnson appeared. He was a bigger man. Not like me, but big, as in pudgy. Six foot, maybe two-fifty or so. He was bald, scruffy, and older looking. Strange that a man moving parts for electric cars seemed so jumpy. What was he up to?

While he slinked across the parking lot to his car, constantly checking over the nearly empty lot, I snuck up behind him. He seemed to be in a real hurry to get somewhere. I was pretty sure he'd smell me, but the shock on his face as I turned him around, changed my mind.

"What do you want?" he asked, full of fear.

"What do I want?" I asked in return.

What do I want? I want you to tell me why you're so damn scared. Why didn't you smell me or hear me? I'm walking in sneakers on concrete. Surely you heard me. I've been out in the sun since this morning. Surely you smelled me. Hell, I smell me.

"Did Ressin send you?" he asked, nearly begging.

Ah ha! Something's afoot. Yeah, I watched an old British detective show on TV last night, guilty.

"Yes," I replied. Umm...what do I say now? He's clearly waiting for something. I took a stab. "What's taking so long?"

"What?" he asked in return.

Fuck! I've tipped my hand. But he continued.

"I just got the order last night. It's not like I can pull them out of thin air. People will miss them." Then Don did something I was not expecting. He started crying. Seriously? What the hell is going on? "I'm trying. Please. I'm trying."

Even bad guys deserve a good cry once in a while. I didn't want to interrupt, but I also had to maintain my cover.

"I'll tell Ressin that you're on top of it," I said with confidence. Referring to him simply as 'Ressin', following Don's lead.

"Thank you," he said and wiped the tears away. "I can do this. Please. Give me another chance."

I felt like asking for a road map at this point. I had no clue what the hell I was doing. 'Jim, I'm a doctor, not an investigator'. I know I'm a tracker and not a doctor. It was just funny. Come on! That one was a little funny. Sad face.

But by asking what was going on, I'd risk losing any momentum I'd gained. Don thought I worked for Ressin. That could prove to be useful. I'm not sure why I thought this had anything to do with Melissa's disappearance, I just did. Something in my gut.

I know what you're thinking. Too many old detective shows. I do watch them quite a bit. It colors my words, not my actions. A gut feeling, if you ask me, is your subconscious trying to clue you in on things you've picked up but didn't really notice. It's like your brain has parts of the problem figured out, but your conscious mind hasn't seen it yet.

"I'll be back tomorrow at six," I said, and he just nodded in agreement.

What was I going to find tomorrow at six? What was this jumpy man doing for Ressin? And what could have possibly made him break down crying? None of this made any sense. Drugs? Was he smuggling drugs for Mr. Ressin?

Had Melissa found out about the drugs and become a liability to the man who locked her in a princess cage? That didn't really make sense. No, the fear from Ressin had been genuine. At least I think it had. I needed to talk to Candice. See what Ressin was involved in. Maybe then this might start falling into place.

Then there was Don's strange response. How would drugs be missed by the people he was getting them from? I was in over my head on this one. I find people, I don't solve mysteries. I really needed Candice to shed some light on this thing.

# Chapter 7

It was a long walk from Ressin's warehouse to the Langston Police Station. Not that I wasn't used to walking. I walked almost everywhere. It was just fucking hot. Even as the sun was setting, it was fucking hot! I'd be glad when I could finally...

I breathed in deeply as I walked in the doors of the police department. Air conditioning. This must be what heaven felt like.

I guess you've noticed, I'm not the most religious person. I also swear a lot, but I avoid using one word. God. Because if I ever get on the big guy's radar and he looks down on me. I will not be pissing him off. I don't know if my kind goes to heaven or not, but I'm taking no chances there. Leave one simple word out of my vocabulary and possibly increase my chances of getting into heaven. Not even a sacrifice. That's just common sense.

While I was soaking up all the cool air, a few steps from the doorway, I smelled her perfume again. This produced an involuntary smile to slip out, and wouldn't you know it, she was standing beside me.

"Someone's having a good day. Why are you so chipper?" she asked.

I looked down at the minuscule beauty, and my smile tipped a little to the right. I couldn't help myself. It was just too perfect.

"If I said you, could I ask you a few questions?" This was a truth that was disguised as a lie. But she'd never guess that I really was happy to see her. A lie that isn't a lie? Those are the best kind.

"Come on," she sighed and walked ahead of me. When we got into the room, she pushed her chair away from the table, nearly to the wall. "Just do me a favor and sit back there."

"Sorry," I apologized. "Been on stakeout for like a million hours in the sun."

"Yeah, you smell like it," she said with a grin.

Hmm? A little flirtation. A little teasing. I like that. I can use that. I just can't do anything about it. Dreams of Candice lathering me up to get me clean will certainly be in my playlist tonight.

"So, what is Ressin really shipping?" I asked as bluntly as I could.

This seemed to catch her off guard. She was seriously stunned for a good five seconds. Then she replied with the standard cop line.

"Mr. Ressin is the focus of an ongoing investigation. I urge you to stay away from his warehouses and focus on his daughter," she said dryly.

Ok then! I've hit a sore spot! That means I'm doing my job. Ha, take that, stupid cops! Not Candice. She's not stupid. Why am I feeling so guilty now?

"Sounds reasonable," I assured her, pushing my guilt aside. "What can you tell me that would help me find Melissa?"

Again she looked a little lost. Did she honestly think I'd just say ok and leave? Come on now. She had my file. I'm notorious for doing the opposite of what I'm told. In this case, being that Candice was the one asking, I'd try to listen. But I'm still me.

"All I can say is that this has nothing to do with Melissa," she said in an even tone. But the way she looked at me. I knew there was someone behind the mirror tonight. And I heard the cameras turn on when I sat down. Was she trying to tell me something with her eyes? She knew I was a wolf. She knew that even her change in scent was a clue to me. This facial expression and the stare. It was like hitting me with a brick. 'Wake up, dumb dog. I'm throwing you a bone.'

"So, I should just move to the next name on the list?" I asked without showing my grin.

"Yes," she said, still keeping her eyes locked with mine. If this wasn't some kind of signal, I would think she was hitting on me. Sad face. She wasn't hitting on me, and I knew it.

"Well, thanks for your help," I said and stood.

She smiled as she stood, then held out her hand.

"I'd hug you, but you stink, Clay. Take a shower," she stated with a grin.

That one was not a signal. That was flirting. Sort of. I think.

I shook her hand, then headed back to my motel.

While I let the cool, yet highly chlorinated water, drench my body...

No, I still didn't shave. It's day two, I don't have to shave until tomorrow...maybe the next day. I'm feeling kinda lazy.

Anyway. I tried to piece everything together. But, like most things, the more I knew, the less I understood.

Candice's stare. What was she getting at? Did I need to pay closer attention to Don Johnson?

Sorry. Every time I say his name, I picture my Don Johnson all scruffy, dirty, and scared, dressed like the actor on 'Miami Vice'. Spruced up in a brightly colored tank top and suit jacket riding down the highway in an expensive car. My Don Johnson just wishes he was that cool.

My Don Johnson was in his thirties. But he was no Don Johnson, the actor. His round, pudgy, ugly face, in the actor's clothes. Can't help it. I chuckled.

His parents probably had no idea that they'd named him after a future star. But still. I might consider changing my name if I was him. Then again. I still live with Huntsvein. I don't have much room to talk.

As I slept, visions of Melissa and Candice danced in my head. My version of Christmas? More like my version of the best birthday present ever. They had forgotten about me and were more interested in each other. Oh, this was getting good. Just as Candice was unbuttoning Melissa's shirt...A stupid fucking semi honked its DAMN HORN!!!

I shot out of bed and rushed to the door. Prepared to rip some stupid truck driver's head off. But when I opened it, I realized it was noon. Where the hell had my night gone? Part of my day as well. I'd had a bag of blood with the last of my money before bed. Damn, if it didn't make me sleep soundly. I'd be good for a while now.

I looked down at the door handle and realized I'd have to give Mrs. Genet some extra cash. I hadn't meant to dent it. It was flimsy. What can I say? A trucker broke up an all-woman lovefest in my head. I'm surprised I didn't rip the door off the hinges.

After apologizing profusely and giving Mrs. Genet twenty bucks. Five for the handle and fifteen for the trouble. I headed back to the warehouse. Candice wanted me poking around there. Why?

Today I took a cab. I really needed some cash, but I didn't want to walk the miles from my motel to the warehouse. If this job wasn't so damn time consuming, I'd have grabbed another unfaithful husband job. Maybe a wife playing with the pool boy job.

Pool boy jobs didn't quite go as easily as cheating husbands. Why? Because I tended to side with the wife on those. The more beautiful the wife and the more neglectful the husband, the harder it was to turn them in. The ones where the husband was diligent and faithful, those were easy. But, I didn't get many of those. Women are a lot more faithful to good husbands than men are to good wives. Just my opinion? Maybe.

I again waited outside the warehouse, collecting sweat and dirt on my skin throughout the day. Not a single person or truck arrived nor left the building. Then, at about a quarter til six, Don arrived. He looked nervous but less nervous than yesterday.

When I saw him, I headed his way. He noticed me today. He gave me a smile and a wave for me to follow him, then headed toward the door.

I knew something was up, but maybe it was pride. Maybe it was ego. I don't know. Whatever it was, I ignored my gut feeling and walked right in the door. Right into the baseball bat they had ready for my head. Whack! And I'm chewing pavement.

When I woke, I was tied and gagged. Gagged? Really? I'm a wolf. How long did they think this would last? One flex of my jaw and the gag split in two places as my teeth cut through the material like butter. I kindly put my teeth away so I could address my would-be captors.

Don and his slimy looking friend, the one I owed a homerun to, didn't look angry, they looked more surprised than anything. I swear I read the word Duh across their foreheads when they were astonished by my quick removal of the gag. They were wolves but obviously not very bright wolves.

I sniffed the air, hoping to smell whatever they were smuggling, but there were no drugs. In this part of town, I smelled stray dogs everywhere. Inside this building, it seemed to be more concentrated. Perhaps there was another entrance or a hole in the wall, and the dogs were using this place as shelter. This didn't help my investigation at all. No smell of drugs, no smell of anything but stray dogs. Dead end.

The slimy friend was thin, tall, and looked younger than Don. His blonde hair looked dirty and messy. You already know what Don looks like, pudgy, scruffy, and bald. It was his clothes that caught my attention today.

My captors' clothes were sweaty and dirty. Plain shirts and jeans. But it looked like they had been digging a ditch or something. But, as far as I could see, there was nothing in this warehouse. It was completely empty. So, why were they so dirty? Had they moved all the merchandise already? Or had Don not gotten it yet? Something was off, but I wasn't finding anything to help me.

"Something wrong, Don?" I asked with a smirk.

"Who are you?" Don asked.

"Clay Huntsvein. Why did you...," I stopped when homerun hitting friend, whom I shall now refer to as Slimy, hit me in the stomach with the bat.

I looked up at Slimy and grinned.

"I'm going to make you eat that if you hit me again," I sneered.

These guys were full-blooded wolves, just not very bright ones. I was trying to piss them off so they would make a mistake. I don't have a death wish. I know they could kill me. Just not with a bat. I smelled no silver, and I didn't think either of them were strong enough to rip my heart out before I crushed this flimsy chair.

Slimy pulled back the bat to give me a good crack, but Don stopped him. Lucky for Slimy. One more whack and I'd probably have ripped his head off.

"We're not supposed to kill him. Just ask him questions," Don said with a badly coordinated wink toward Slimy. Slimy didn't get it.

"But Ressin said to kill him after we find out who he is," Slimy said, not quite understanding what he'd just done.

Ressin was behind this. He was up to something unsavory. Though these guys weren't the brightest, I didn't think they were going to tell me what that was.

"Great! Now he knows we're going to kill him, stupid. You never tell the prisoner you're going to kill him!" Don shouted.

"He has a point," I said with a smirk directed at Slimy.

Slimy just looked flabbergasted. My chance had arrived, and I had listened long enough. I knew there was no one else in here. These two were the only ones in the entire empty warehouse, and they had given me the only clues they were going to give. It was time to get out of there.

I started to change. At first, I did it slowly. Trying not to make the chair creek as more weight was being put on it.

Don't ask. I have no fucking clue how nor why I grow in size. Seems physically impossible, but I grow. One of you smart guys see if you can figure that one out...ok?

I didn't want to snap the ropes around me too quickly. I wanted to surprise them. I might be a big guy and an even bigger wolf, but a baseball bat to the head still hurts like a son of a bitch. Plus, I really like the look of 'How did you do that?' on the bad guy's faces when I pull one over on them. It's almost as satisfying as the sound their bones make when I crush them.

I felt my muscles in my legs swell to the point of bursting my pants.

Great! I just realized something. I'm going to have to walk a couple miles naked to get back to the motel. Just fucking great! I'm certainly not taking a cab while naked. With my luck, I'd get a horny lady driver that was human. Not doing that. Not again.

My shirt started to stretch, then tear while dark brown fur covered my arms. I finished the transformation... Well as much as I could. Remember Red Mode? I can't completely transform or the wolf takes over. So, at this point I'm only half wolf, but it was enough to scare the shit out of these two bozos.

Then I saw their faces as the astounded looks came over both of them at once. Perfection! Then I attacked.

I slashed at Slimy to throw him off balance then lunged at Don. Don was the smarter of the two, though not by much. He tried to shift as I slammed his head into the concrete floor. Not deadly, but damn if it didn't cheer me up to here that sound. It was like a shotgun blast when it echoed through the empty space. I'd cracked his skull, but being a wolf, he'd heal. It would just leave a really nasty headache.

Then I turned to Slimy, who had decided that running was his best option. Probably, but maybe he shouldn't have dropped the bat. Payback time!

I picked it up in my fur-covered hands and swung for the bleachers. The force splintered the bat when it connected with his head, and another shotgun blast rang out. "The crowd goes wild!" I shouted in my lower wolf voice, as I held up the remains of the bat and pretended to accept the crowd's praise. Then another happy wolf chuckle came from me. Today was going quite well, considering.

Now the problem of walking a couple miles in my birthday suit. I couldn't exactly wear their clothes. How would I even fit my legs in their pants, let alone the rest of me? I probably could have squeezed some of me in Don's clothes but walking in them? He had obviously missed leg day. I'm not even sure his skinny jeans, that he had to squeeze his beer belly into, would even last a few steps.

Try this. Seriously. Do it. Take some toilet paper and put it around your bicep with your arm straight. Then tense the muscle. Yeah, that's exactly what would have happened if I tried to put on Don's clothes, only more embarrassing. I can just imagine trying to cross the street as *rip* the seam up my inner thigh splits. And my junk is on display for the world to see.

That's when I realized I had no choice. I needed help. Besides, if I just left, these two weasels would run and tell Ressin. Then my lead would go up in smoke. I had to call Candice.

After about twenty minutes, far too many police cars, filled with far too many female cops, arrived. This was intentional. I'm sure of it. I think I have a crush on Candice now. Seriously. I mean, I'd do that to someone. She got me good. Snarky. I think I'm in love. Too bad she's human.

I'm not exactly easy to embarrass, but holding my junk while talking to several officers of the female persuasion did turn me a little pink. Thankfully, one of the two male officers was closer to my size. Still, the female ones couldn't help but whistle and make suggestive noises while I paraded around in skin tight pants that were about three inches short. I didn't bother with the shirt. It would have just looked stupid. And hell, I'm proud of my body. I just don't really want every female cop in the city knowing what my junk looks like. If they want to see that, there's a cover charge. Yes, I'm talking about sex. Or, at the very least, a little visual reciprocation.

And yes, I do have a decent vocabulary. I'm crude and rude, I'm not uneducated. Thanks, dad, and this time it's not sarcasm. My dad had me reading high school textbooks when I was eight. I said I didn't go to high school. I never said I couldn't pass it.

The teasing and ogling of the women Candice had sent was a distraction. A playful and funny distraction, but a distraction none the less. She thought I might be too embarrassed to realize that it was the FBI who took them away. She was wrong.

In the end, the two men who assaulted me wound up in an FBI detention cell. Something fishy was going on here. Why were these two being held without bail and without a lawyer? The FBI was up to something, and I had stumbled right into the middle of it.

Now, if I could just figure out what the hell I had? Whatever it was, I was certain that I was making the FBI nervous about something. I also doubted Detective Candice Burn would be allowed to tell me the truth. But, you never know. She'd already given me a nice hint.

# Chapter 8

This is the part of the case where things were supposed to get easier. I was several days into it and had found tons of clues. The problem was the FBI. They were hiding something from me. Some part of this was tangled up in something they were doing, and Candice knew what it was...but couldn't come out and tell me. All my clues were like pieces to a jigsaw puzzle with no flat edges. I could eventually fit them together, it would just be a whole lot easier if I had those damn edge pieces.

Melissa was gone. Maybe taken, maybe helped. Still not certain. But somehow, daddy's illegal drug operation. The one that left not even a trace of evidence in an empty warehouse had either caused it or had nothing at all to do with it. See the problem here? Too many options. I needed to narrow my choices.

With that in mind, and a fresh morning shower, I decided to speak to Candice. Not that speaking to Candice was at all unpleasant. It did make me feel a little uncomfortable in the crotch region, but I'd call that far from unpleasant.

The air conditioning was like...well it was like air conditioning. I don't think I even need to liken it to anything. It was a hundred and fifty degrees outside. Ok, it was more like one hundred, but still. And it was a cool sixty-five inside. Relief doesn't even begin to cover my feelings as the sweat drenching my white tee-shirt nearly froze.

Again, I smelled her perfume, and I was really starting to like that perfume. I'm not big on perfumes and colognes. Most of the time they annoy the hell out of my nose. Sniffling and sneezing, my usual reaction. But this one, I was really starting to like. I was even looking forward to smelling it. Strange that the perfect woman would choose a perfume that didn't make my eyes water and cause asphyxiation. Could she be any more perfect?

And there she was. All five foot two inches of her. Still no measuring tape. I cheated. Looked her up on social media. I'm a tracker. Finding out info on people is what I do.

She had the strangest smile this morning...afternoon. It was one PM again.

Being late today was all my fault. I didn't want to get out of bed. Just smelling her perfume brought back the dreams. Candice had pushed Melissa out. Though I really wanted both to stay. Yeah, I like that kinda thing. Even with pornos. Don't really care to see some guy's big dick making me feel inadequate. I'd rather see two women. Or even one, by herself. Is that just me? Oh well. I'm good with my oddities in this area.

Anyway...I followd her to her office, and by office, I mean the interrogation room. Does Candice even have a real office? Then she set a file in front of me. Finally, some answers!

"This is a cease and desist order," she stated, and I looked down with disappointment.

"What in the hell, Candice? What's going on?" I asked.

"My bosses would appreciate it if you would stay away from anything pertaining to Theodore and Melissa Ressin." She looked at me with that stare again. The one the cameras and the man behind the glass couldn't see.

I could smell his cologne today. As well as the shaving cream he'd used. It was either a man or a really hairy woman who liked men's cologne. And it was horrible. I couldn't smell Candice with the stench of him being so close.

"I understand. Do I get any compensation for the work I've completed?" I asked. This wasn't code. I was starving. Not literally, but very soon, I would be a danger to society if I didn't get money for blood.

Remember what I said earlier? Using my healing causes me to get hungry faster. Getting hit in the head with a bat caused some serious damage. And then there was the changing. The act of shifting uses up whatever it is in the blood that keeps me sane, at an insane rate.

Like that little play on words? No? You suck.

"You get our undying gratitude," Candice said and slid her hand out to comfort me.

So, maybe I was a little bit vague about skin contact. You've noticed how I shake hands with people, human people, and nothing happens. I even shook hands with Candice, The Goddess of Sexy Soup. That's because the intent is different behind a handshake. Mine and theirs. And Candice was making a huge mistake right now. One I didn't even pick up on until it was too late. I was too busy admiring her beautiful face and perfect smile.

She slid her hand on top of mine, and my eyes changed. I pulled my hand back as quickly as I could, but the man behind the mirror gasped. He had caught it. And Candice seemed shocked. Maybe not as shocked as she should have been, but there was a pause there.

"I apologize," she said quickly.

Believe me. I knew what her intentions were and felt her lust for me the second she touched my skin. She didn't have to say sorry. I wanted her to touch me like that. She just couldn't.

"It's ok," I said with a shaky voice.

Imagine that. A man my size, scared of a woman who barely hit my collar bone. Hell yeah, I'm scared! Scared that a little attention from a beautiful woman will end up with me eating her. That all the officers and every FBI agent hiding in this building will end up on my dinner plate. Yeah, I'm fucking scared! Right now, Candice was the most frightening thing in the world to me.

I stood and headed toward the door, not sure how to react. I hid my eyes as quickly as I could, but both her and the man behind the glass had seen them. I envisioned armed guards standing outside the door. I even pictured a whole swat team outside, just waiting to get a shot at the monster. But, I was instead greeted by a busy police department with detectives, secretaries, and officers zipping around, unaware of me.

"Give me a call if you need anything. Sorry again, Clay!" Candice shouted from behind me as I made a beeline to the door.

What in the hell was I going to do now?! Two cops. At least one of them, a well-respected detective, knew what I was. Or, at the very least, suspected it. I was an anomaly they could study. Something that could not exist.

I walked back to my motel as quickly as I could. As I pushed my motel door open, I was certain that men with tranquilizing darts would shoot me and whisk me away. But nothing happened.

As I waited in the semi-cool motel room. It was eighty. Not one hundred, but still, it wasn't sixty-five. I started to sweat and think, really think about what I was going to do.

I could head back to the mountains up north. Sneak my way into Canada, where less humans and more wolves lived. Or I could head south. The heat would suck worse than this, but my mother's people were there. Maybe I could finally start tracking down her family. They had to exist. Some trace of them was out there somewhere.

I just knew that hanging around the U.S. would put me in danger. Someone somewhere was getting a call right now. And those people were trying to figure out what in the hell to do with me.

Then I thought about Melissa. And, damn it, if I didn't see her pretty face flash in front of me. That sweet woman was mixed up in this. What if rival drug lords had her held captive? I'm a sucker for a pretty face. Not really. I'm a sucker for anything feminine. Blame mom.

I couldn't run off while a woman needed someone's help. And it sure seemed like everyone was more concerned with taking down her dad than helping her. Hell, they probably knew where she was being held and were happy to let her die. Just as long as they got arrests.

I might be a little prejudice when it comes to government types. I'll admit that. But what was Candice doing? Maybe there was hope for some of them. She was trying to give me a clue about something. Too bad I was too busy running for my life to find out what that was. Though she did say to give her a call if I needed anything. Was that also her trying to throw me a bone?

Didn't think you'd get away from my stale humor that easy, did you?

# Chapter 9

Instead of calling Candice, I texted. I didn't want to accidentally spill secrets over an open line. Candice was in enough danger because of my ocular outburst. With a text, you get to read and reread everything before you send it. I gave her simple instructions. No codes. If someone followed her, I'd smell them a mile away. That's not a joke. Maybe not quite a mile. But really close to it.

I told her to meet at the warehouse. Why? It was cordoned off with police tape. It was empty. And I knew the smells there. No one would be sneaking up on us.

And the bonus was that she was the detective in charge of this scene. If any FBI types found us, she could make up an excuse as to why she was there. Following a lead, looking for missed clues. Whatever else her mind, which I was sure was sharper than mine, could come up with.

At three in the morning, I saw her pull up in her car, so I climbed down from the top of the warehouse. I can climb. I'm no cat, but I can climb. Claws come in pretty handy sometimes.

You were waiting for some kind of joke there, weren't you? Don't tell me you weren't. I decided to pass on the cat jokes. Not fond of felines.

Anyway...Candice walked up in her usual attire, sort of. Bland grey suit that she can make as attractive as a prom dress. Did she realize what wearing something so tight did to me? I hope she did. If so, she was doing it on purpose, and that's even hotter.

She had taken off her jacket, and the only thing covering her spectacular upper half was a peach, almost translucent blouse. I really hoped she was doing this on purpose. Because if she wasn't. The big guy was pissed off and torturing me. Bad Dog!

She looked up at me with that womanly stare that said, 'What the hell were you doing?'. I could almost hear the contempt in her stare.

"What the hell are you?" Were the first words out of her mouth.

Not quite what I expected, but sure. Why not? Let's start with the difficult questions first. I don't know why I expected small talk. It was Candice, she was perfection in two-inch heels. Of course, she would get right to the point.

"I'm different. And please. Please. Never tell anyone what you saw. If they find out, and they know that you know..." I gave her an eyebrow raise, and she got it. She's a smart one.

"I'm dead," she said with a sigh.

"Yeah, depending on which side finds out first. You might have to endure torture first," I emphasized.

"Side?" she asked, and I knew I had to spill it all.

"I've never told anyone about this. Ever," I said, hoping she understood the gravity of the words that were about to follow.

"Not even your parents?" she asked. So fucking smart. Damn her.

"That's a whole nother can of worms that will need to wait for another time. They're dead," I said then saw that she was ready to listen. "I'm half-werewolf, half-vampire."

For a moment, she looked like she was going to laugh...or something. Something about that look was worrisome. Like Candice already knew but didn't want to believe it. But how was that even possible? She was smart, but even someone as smart as her would not have seen that coming.

Pushing my confusion with her facial expression aside, I decided that proof was what she needed.

I let my eyes change. My fangs came out, my vampire ones. Then my wolf fangs cluttered around them. Then I let my fur come out of my hand, and my claws shot forward as I held it out for her. She didn't look as frightened as I expected. More curious, with just the right amount of apprehension.

Like when you walk up to a fence and the dog on the other side looks vicious but doesn't bark. You're not quite sure if it wants to lick your hand or if it's just waiting for you to get close enough to attack.

Then she touched my claws, and a smile spread, but her fear must have gotten the better of her. At least that's what I assumed.

"Holy Shit! You're not pulling my leg!" she said and took a step back. Then she looked at my face and stepped forward. She was calmed by my face, though I don't know why. And her smile confused me. What was that smile about?

If I had just seen a monster, I would not be smiling like that. Whatever that smile was, it worried and comforted me at the same time.

Candice gently stuck her finger out and touched my claws again then retreated her hand quickly. This time there was no vocal outburst, but her smile grew. That knowing smile was starting to concern me.

"And in the office. When I touched your hand?" she asked.

Damn it! Why did she have to be so fucking smart?! I didn't really want to get into that just yet. But oh well.

"I sort of...lose control if a human woman touches me with...intentions," I said with a cringe.

She got the insinuation right away. I could tell by the look on her face. She wasn't embarrassed. Her smile just widened even further. She had feelings, and she wasn't hiding them. Damn! Her perfection level was rising as fast as my self-control was falling. I needed to be careful...and so did she. Candice was walking right up to the edge and dangling one foot over.

"So, are you...?" she asked.

This one made me laugh. Loudly too.

"I'm not a virgin. There are werewolf and vampire women. And let's not forget half-breeds." The smile she gave me as assurance made it a little easier. "Back to the matter at hand," I said, trying to defuse the tense situation. I mean I could feel the sexual energy between us. By the look on her face, I'm pretty sure she did too. The look she gave me was far from platonic.

"Yes. Why did you want me to meet you here?" she asked and looked away with a little embarrassment.

"What is really going on? Where is Melissa? I can't give up, knowing someone might hurt her," I stated.

"I'm a new detective...," she started, and I interrupted.

I still got the feeling Candice was hiding something from me. She was being very honest but holding something back. And why did she immediately trust me? Something really weird was going on with Candice, but it was far down on the list. I needed to focus on Melissa.

"But, you're a _detective_." I emphasized the word detective, and she laughed.

"It's still above my pay grade. The FBI doesn't share much with a wet-behind-the-ears detective. Meaning that only the chief knows what's really going on. I just get to deal with the little things..." she looked at me guiltily. "Like you."

"Oh, you think I'm little? Miss doesn't even come up to my collar bone," I said as a joke, but the joke was on me.

It made her giggle and look up at me flirtatiously. On the way to meet my eyes, hers lingered a little too long on my lower half.

I didn't mean it like that! I was not referring to that part of my anatomy! Holy shit!

This woman was getting by every one of my defenses. I had never let a human woman this close to me before. And I don't mean her proximity. If she'd asked me to go back to her place or made any kind of physical advance. I don't think I could have told her no.

Then, thankfully, she wiped the expression from her face and looked at me more seriously. She was still hiding something, and not just her attraction, but I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. She was being very honest. Almost too honest. Why was my gut telling me that there was more to this? Was it the look when I first told her what I really was? That look still had me confused, but it was more than that.

"You know what I mean. People that can get in the way of whatever huge bust they've got planned." Candice held a file in her hand that I hadn't noticed earlier. I guess I was mesmerized by her nice blouse. Hell, I still am. It's almost see-through. The only thing better than the blouse is her face...and that smile! Damn, she's pretty!

"What's this?" I asked and accepted the file when she held it out.

"Nothing top secret. Just some information that's not available to the general public. Figured, with your record, maybe you can see something I missed."

I looked at her with an 'are you serious' stare. Lifted both eyebrows. Opened my eyes wide and smiled. She got it.

"You've closed nearly fifty cases in the last four years. I've closed two," she said matter-of-factly.

Why did I not believe this? Hmm. I didn't exactly get the feeling that she was lying, but it did seem untrue. It's hard to explain. It's like she was telling the truth about the two cases, but there was more to it than that. What choice did I have? If she was trying to stroke my ego, it was working. How could I say no?

"I'll give it some fresh eyes." Of course, I was being polite. Why wouldn't I be polite? Not only was this woman a real-life goddess, she was kind and cared about finding a missing girl. If she was a werewolf or a vampire, I'd marry her. Not that I expected her to accept it. She was too damn perfect for me. Too many good qualities means she's too damn good to want me.

Yeah, she's beyond ten. Where she stops, no one knows. I'm screwed! And not in the good way.

"Good luck, Clay. If you need anything at all. Give me a call," she said, then headed back to her government-issued vehicle and sped off.

While I walked home. Yes, I could have asked for a ride, but that would have been awkward on so many levels. Not just the sexual tension. It would put her in danger. I was now on my own. Even if she'd offered, I couldn't risk putting her in any more danger than she was already in. There were a multitude of things that could go wrong if I was seen in her car.

They could find out that she'd given me files. And by they, I mean the FBI. They could know what I am and take her in as an accomplice to me hiding it all these years. Then there were the bad guys.

Ressin might know about me. He had sent Don and Slimy to kill me. He didn't know the name of the man who had approached Don, but that didn't mean he hadn't seen me as the cops raided his warehouse. Or Carl might have been there. There were police sirens and lights everywhere at a property Ressin owned. Surely he had sent someone to check it out.

And then there was the thing that was the most dangerous to her. Me. Our mutual attraction was very dangerous. Being in a car with her might lead to some things that neither of us could handle.

No, from here on out, I needed to keep Candice out of this and far away from me. She'd done more than enough and now harbored my secret. A secret that might cost her her life, or at the very least her freedom.

# Chapter 10

While I was waiting on top of a building, looking down four stories, waiting for Ressin to come out into the night. I started thinking about the thing that always plagues my idle mind.

No, not that! I'm not horny all the time. Ok, that was a lie, but this is something else I think about.

What do you think went through God's mind when he made man?

It probably went something like this...

I need someone to survive the harsh world. Someone strong. He can be stinky and sweaty as long as he can build homes, gather food, and fight off enemies.

Then he decided to make man a companion, woman.

How can I make this one better? Someone man will always want. I know. I'll make her smell like a flower. Even her sex will smell like heaven to him. I'll give her curves and soft skin to drive the man wild. She will be everything that the man wants.

But wait. There's more!

She needs to care for the others to keep man diligent in protecting them. She needs to be smart to know when man is being stupid. And she needs to be compassionate, so that she will always love him. Even when man is being a real jackass.

I'm pretty sure that's how it went.

I was pulled from my musings as Ressin walked out of the building. I'd been following him all day, well, technically all night. He was a vamp, remember? It was getting close to sunrise, and I was about to conclude that he was spending the day here.

He had two guards with him, but neither were the ones from Ressin Tech. What was he up to? Where had these two new guards come from? Was Carl not suited for personal security when he was out on the town? Or did Ressin not trust him? Carl was head of security. Why wouldn't he be the one with Ressin tonight?

The file Candice had given me didn't help much. It was mostly things I already knew. Nothing pointed to what Ressin was really shipping. But it did lead me to this building. A list of known accomplices for Ressin.

All my other leads, the ones given to me by Carl Vurnal, turned out to be dead ends. How had Don Johnson's name... Yeah, pictured it again. But how did his name get on my list? Did I have someone in Ressin's organization helping me? Why hadn't I thought about this before? Carl had given me the list. Was Carl helping me find Melissa? Or was Carl helping me find something else? And why was this place not on Carl's list?

Strange that Carl hadn't put this place on his list. Many of the other names were on both lists, but not this one and not Don's. I felt like I was still missing something. I was clearly not smart enough to see what Carl was trying to point out to me. I'd missed something. A lot of somethings, I think. I needed to talk to Carl. Alone.

The place Ressin had just left was a business associate of his. A wolf, and a rather nasty one, from all accounts. Not Rapist John, nasty. Nasty like me. Big, mean, and ugly. Truthfully, I haven't seen him, I'm just betting on ugly.

He went by the name Ron Durnst. He didn't have a stupid family name like mine. So either he had changed his name, or he was really old. Like, at least a hundred. This didn't sit well with me. An old wolf would probably be like an old vamp. Strong and scary. And what in the hell was Ressin doing with him? Wolves and vamps didn't help one another, they hated each other. And why was Carl not here? This was really strange.

So, I had another clue. Another confusing and barely helpful clue. But, despite this, my revelation about Carl was eating at me. I needed to know how Stupid Don's name got on my list of otherwise useless names and why Ron Durnst's name was not on it.

Ok, from now on, I'm calling him Stupid Don. I'm not using his full name anymore. I can't afford to laugh every time I say it. That could get rather sticky when I'm sneaking around on rooftops. I'm not a cat. I won't land on my feet if I fall. I'll smack right into the pavement, I'll live, but it will not be pretty.

So, I decided that after a good morning nap, I'd head to Ressin Tech. and find out what I could from good old Carl.

This Ron Durnst must have something to do with it. But Ressin wouldn't be visiting him if he had kidnapped Melissa, would he? I was still missing something. I'm a good tracker. I'm not a great detective. What in the hell was going on here, and how had a simple missing person job turned into this fucked up mess?

I woke at about three in the afternoon. Another reason I hate vamp jobs. Fucks with my sleeping schedule. I was going to bed at six AM and sleeping until three in the afternoon. I missed most of the day. One of the best things about being what I am is that I can enjoy sunlight. I'm a wolf damn it! I love the sun.

Even half-breed vamps don't take sun well. They don't burn, but they do sunburn quite easily. They also have to wear sunglasses a lot.

So, I made it to Ressin Tech. by four. I would have been there sooner, but the cabby was a moron. Couldn't find one of the tallest buildings in town. And he wasn't new! Just a moron!

Anyway, I walked through the doors to much the same greeting as last time. I even heard a sigh then...

"You again," from the pretty receptionist with the ugly expressions. From now on, I'll refer to her as Bitch Face. That suits her, and today's look is worse than last time. Like I've walked through sewage or something. I showered. I promise!

I ignored Bitch Face and headed straight toward Carl, who looked a little bit scared. Which is weird, right? Maybe an act? Who knows? I barged right up to him and pointed my large finger in his pasty face.

"You lied to me!" I said so loudly that even Bitch Face couldn't miss it. And I saw revelation wash over Carl's face. He WAS the one helping me.

"If you would come with me, sir. I think we can figure out the misunderstanding," he said calmly, like the servant that he was.

He was pretty good, despite his lapse in fear when he saw me. Did he expect me to be mad? Instead of faking it? Hmm? The plot thickens. Early morning TV is full of sixties detective shows. I had to watch.

But seriously. I still felt like I was missing that one thing that would make all of this fall into place. It's right there, I can almost grab it. Arg!!! It's so damn frustrating!

As we headed into the elevator, the three other security officers decided to come with us, but Carl waved them off.

"You guys need to keep an eye out. Ron Durst was not happy about the meeting last night," he said. I think it was so that he could be alone with me. In fact, as the doors shut, I was sure of it.

So, I stared down at my short, bald tour guide as we headed down instead of up this time. Must be his office?

"Not here," is all he said. I noticed the security camera in the corner. Got it. The walls have ears.

I need to find better TV shows.

When we finally reached the bottom, he exited and motioned for me to follow. We wandered down the dark hallway, under the building, and I was starting to worry. This was exactly how a villain would dispose of the hero who's getting too close to the truth. And the ceiling was just barely brushing the top of my hair. These halls were small, dark, and creepy. Every time a pipe came along, I had to duck.

Despite my apprehension, we made it to a door at the end of the creepy hallway. But, instead of jumping me, he turned before opening the door and whispered.

"Miss Ressin isn't a trusting person, so give me a few minutes." Carl then opened the door and slipped in, closing it behind him.

Miss Ressin? Did I hear that right? Holy Shit! Maybe I'm the moron. What in the hell was happening?! Maybe I was missing more than one thing.

I then heard a woman screaming. Not shouting. Really screaming. But not in terror. She was fucking pissed!

"You brought a wolf down here! Are you a fucking idiot?!" Then her voice softened. It only sounded like a lion's roar. "I knew your feeble brain couldn't comprehend the danger we're in! What the hell were you thinking?!"

After the outburst, Carl opened the door and motioned for me to enter.

The banshee's wail I just heard was a stark contrast to the sweet innocent look I got when I saw Melissa Ressin. She was sitting on a single bed, and the room was a mess. She had clothes and supplies scattered around the room. It was clear that she'd been living in this small room for the last week or so.

Other than the bed, there was a desk, covered in dirty clothes, and a toilet in one corner. I thought my motel room sucked. This place was nearly a prison cell. How had she not gone stir-crazy down here?

"Hello," she said and stood to greet me with the sweetest smile.

Split personality disorder, anyone? Bipolar much? Maybe stir-crazy wasn't as far off as I had thought.

"Hello, Miss Ressin," I said in my best, spy meets beautiful girl, voice. I sounded just like Sean Connery.

I'm kidding. No way I'm that cool, ever.

"Are you going to tell my father?" she asked, and I saw the fear in her eyes. She hid it well, but I'm a wolf. I sense things humans and vamps couldn't notice. Even if they knew what they were looking for.

"No. Not if you tell me what's going on," I assured her.

One more thing. Before coming over here, I was a little hungry. And not for human food. I ate two hearts, three kidneys and one liver for breakfast. So, keep that in mind. I'm full of werewolf food. You'll understand why that is important in a minute.

"I'm..." she said and started wringing her hands as she sat down. This couldn't be good.

"Take your time," I said calmly and sat on the bed beside her.

"My father isn't making his money on electric cars. I'm going to be a witness for the FBI. I told them everything," she said, talking as fast as she could.

I was, of course, enthralled by her choice of sleepwear. A saggy white tee-shirt that hung across her breasts in a way that filled my mind with visions of me pulling it off. And she had no bottoms on.

Despite the smells of human blood, presumably she'd just eaten, and old clothing that fill this place. I got a whiff of something more distracting than her looks. She was attracted to me. Now I was sure she had no bottoms on. I could smell her attraction. If you know what I mean. Too vague for you? I'll gladly explain. She's attracted enough that she's wet. Yeah, that's what I meant.

So, I'm struggling to concentrate. Her form and her smell are urging me to pull her clothing off. And what do you know, I ask a stupid question.

"What kind of drugs is he moving?" I asked, only half-listening.

The pounding in my ears from my elevated heart rate and the mental images that were assaulting me were making it hard to pay attention. Not to mention. My pants were feeling a little too tight in the crotch region.

"Drugs?" she asked, looking at me with disbelief. It pulled my attention away from her physical distractions just long enough to really listen. "I'm talking about the dogs he's kidnapping and selling to werewolves as pig organs."

I pieced everything together in about five seconds. Maybe less. I'm pretty sharp when I want to be. I'm sure she was amused at my dumbfounded expression. And I'm also sure she was laughing at me as I rushed to the toilet I'd seen in the corner and deposited all my breakfast.

Told you it would all make sense in a minute.

She cringed, then walked over and patted my back.

"Sorry. Thought you knew," she comforted.

"Oh, man. That's disgusting."

Seriously. It's gross. Would you eat monkey parts? It's like that. Actually, I think I'm more closely related to dogs than humans are to monkeys. That's like eating my distant cousin or something. Disgusting doesn't even cover it.

That's why I couldn't smell drugs at the warehouse. Dog smell was everywhere in the city. I did notice that it was a little more concentrated at the warehouse. I just didn't think it was important. Talk about dropping the ball. I never had the ball. I'm not sure I've even seen the damn ball. Idiot.

"You found the warehouse," she said, hoping that I'd had some clue.

"It was empty," I replied and wiped my mouth.

I was really embarrassed. I'd just puked in front of a gorgeous woman who, until thirty seconds ago, wanted to have sex with me. Woohoo. Go me. Sad face.

I returned to the bed with her, hoping my breath didn't stink too bad and figured I should probably hear all of it.

"It gets worse," she cringed.

Worse? How? Then again, why would the FBI care if werewolves were eating dog parts? They wouldn't. They'd probably laugh. It had to be worse than that if the FBI was involved.

The FBI only gets involved if the plots between supernatural beings was getting violent. Mostly because they knew that humans would get in on it eventually. Either as victims or accomplices.

"My father is poisoning the wolves. He feeds the dogs small doses of silver. Then, as the werewolves eat the...parts..." she looked at me guiltily, but I wasn't offended. She didn't feed me dog parts. She wasn't even to blame. She was trying to stop it. "the silver builds up in their system until it reaches a tipping point and the wolves die."

Then Carl left, and Melissa explained the whole situation. I won't bore you with the long-winded description, I'll just hit the highlights for you.

She told me how her father was losing money on the electric cars. Between failed attempts and increased production costs, he was barely breaking even. Now, the people with all the materials were raising prices. So, he started collecting stray dogs from around the city. At first, it was just to offset his costs. Then he went all in. And when stray dogs started to become scarce, he moved on to stealing pets. Any animal with similar-sized organs that was free was fair game.

She wasn't sure when he started putting silver in the dogs. She also wasn't sure how it was helping him make money. It didn't make any more sense to her than it did to me. Silver wasn't cheap. Not unless he had a stockpile somewhere and figured. Why not? But still, he was killing off his customer base. It didn't make sense. There was still that something. The thing I could almost taste, but couldn't grab. That one piece that would bring all of this into focus.

We sat and talked, mostly I listened and gargled with some mouthwash she graciously offered me. Pretty sure my mouth smelled like death. She didn't offer out of courtesy. That's self-preservation. Then she started talking about why she was in this small room instead of an FBI safe house.

This part I'll elaborate on. You need to hear this. Ok, maybe not, but I want you to. It's important.

"I was with some agents. In an 'undisclosed' location," she said, finger quotes and all. "When, somehow, a pack of wolves working for my father found me. They killed all the agents, but I managed to escape. It was daylight, so the wolves figured I couldn't run. Father should have hired smarter wolves. I ran like hell. Have the sunburn to prove it." She smiled at that one and pulled the shirt off her shoulder to show me. And I started to smell her attraction once more.

Do I need to explain it again? Good. Didn't think so.

Through this whole conversation, I was half expecting that she'd call him daddy instead of father. Not sure why.

"So, you've just been hiding down here?" I asked, my mind muddled by her scent once again.

Most guys that have had sex know what a woman's scent smells like. It's fucking intoxicating. As long as she hasn't had sex with a guy recently. If it's just her scent, it's amazing. And clearly, Melissa hadn't had sex in a while. I could barely think straight.

"I reached out to a few wolves that wouldn't be on father's side," she said.

"You mean Ron Durnst?" I asked. Saying his name cleared the fog of her scent and I started paying attention.

"Yes, have you heard anything?" she asked.

I mean sure. Why not? The wolf who just found out about this has heard something. Wait. I have heard something. Well, I found out something.

"Your father went to see him last night," I explained.

"Fuck," she said and grimaced.

Well, then. Not such a clean-cut girl. I guess I had this mental picture of Melissa as a sweet little girl that called her father daddy. I better rethink this. She's clearly an angry woman. An angry woman being hunted by her father. A mature woman who wants to have sex with me. This is more like it. I can work with that!

"What do you need?" I asked.

She looked at me with surprise.

Come on. I'm definitely helping the half-naked girl who is attracted to me. She's not human. I might actually get some kind of 'appreciation' along with my monetary reward. Who do you think I am here?

'Huntsvein, Clay Huntsvein'.

I said that with Sean Connery's voice in my head. If I could just be half that cool.

"I need somewhere my father won't find me. Can I stay with you? You look like you could protect me." She even smiled when she said it. That smile a woman gives you that lets you know protection is not the only thing she's after. Damn. I better be careful, or good old Carl will walk in on something his eyes might not be happy about.

To hell with moaning. Melissa is a screamer, and I'd love to wake up the neighborhood with her.

"Not that it wouldn't be fun...but how can I help you if I'm protecting you," I said regretfully. Really, really regretfully.

But, if the FBI can't protect her and her father wants her dead. I don't get to play with my new admirer. I have to go around and find out what is really going on...for her. Those are the rules. I don't make them. I just live by them. Wait a minute. I do make them. Damn it! I suck!

Then I went on, explaining to her why I couldn't invite her over. In reality, I think I was trying to convince myself of why I couldn't play 'wake the motel' with her, but I said it out loud.

"I need to figure a way out of this for you. I'll watch your father and somehow, get the real wolves to turn on him. Something like that."

"Like Ron Durnst?" she asked. Is every woman I meet smarter than me? Duh. Of course, they are. They're women.

"Yes," I replied.

Now, if I could just pull my tail out from between my legs and work up the courage to go talk to Ron Durnst. The thought of the old wolf was a little intimidating, and I hadn't even met him yet. Then I had a thought.

"Are you sure Ron isn't in on your father's business?" I asked.

"I honestly don't know. Some of the wolves in town know. I've seen a few sleazy ones around here for meetings," she explained. "But, I don't think Mr. Durnst would be in on this kind of thing."

Mr. Durnst? My suspicions were correct. Even a vamp respected him. Half-vamp, but still. She probably got that from talking to her father. How old was Mr. Durnst?

Tail firmly between my legs, check.

"I'll talk to him and make sure," I said, pushing every ounce of courage into my face to avoid looking like a scared puppy.

Apparently, it worked. Her attraction level increased. Believe me, I could not only smell it now. I could feel it.

No, not that! I could feel the energy in her stare. Sheesh! I'm not groping her! That would be very counterproductive. I was trying to talk myself out of having sex with her, remember?

"I'll have to find _some_ way to reward you," she said. The way she said 'some' nearly popped the zipper on my pants. I just hoped she'd live long enough for me to collect that reward.

Here we go again. Another sidebar for me to explain. I love women. You know that. In general, women either find me barely tolerable, or they are just plain offended by me. The fact that two women, in the same town, find me attractive, is downright astronomical. What? You thought I was some kind of playboy? You haven't been paying attention. And now I was feeling like I'd just won the lottery. Not one woman. Two women! In the same zip code!

I've had three women. Not counting hookers. You know how I feel about that. Of these three women. The first was a pity fuck.

It was a wolf-girl who happened to be in the same bar as me. After many, many drinks, we started talking about her first time and my lack of one. So, one thing leads to another, and she starts teasing me about giving me a memorable first experience. Then she does just that. Not something I'll forget anytime soon, but she was gone by the time I woke up the next morning.

The second was about a year after. I'd had a few hookers since then, my cherry was completely popped, I figured 'Why not?'. And you guys know what I'm talking about. After the first time, it's no longer 'When will I get to do it?'. It turns into 'I need it again!'. It changes from something you want to something your body tells you that you need.

The second was ok. Not quite like the first time. She was half wolf and very timid. One time and she was ready to go home. I'm not even sure she actually enjoyed it. All in all, very disappointing.

The third? Oh, man! The third was the half vamp that wanted me to change during. And, without going into details that would make a hooker blush, it was the most memorable night I've ever had. Five times for me, not sure how many for her, but it was a lot. With drink breaks in between.

If you've never actually had a partner who only wants sex from you and isn't bashful about it, you don't know what you're missing. She wanted me to fulfill her every fantasy, and I did everything but change into a wolf. It was a long night that lasted into the next afternoon.

But, these were the successes. There were far more failures. Women throwing drinks in my face or just plain ignoring me. So, yes, two at the same time was unheard of.

Back to Melissa. Possibly, hopefully, number four.

"I'll hold you to that," I said, leaning in. I did the fake kiss move as I brushed by her face and stood. I felt like Sean Connery. It was awesome!

Melissa might be making another guest appearance in Clay presents Porno Theater tonight.

My dreams. I'm talking about my dreams.

After another nice long look at what I was denying myself. Stupid morals and wanting to keep the woman safe. You're killing my sex life, mom! I headed back through the creepy hall and out to the street.

I knew exactly where Ron Durnst conducted business. I was there the night before. Why couldn't I make my feet walk in that direction? After a two-minute argument with my coward side, I took off and began the long terrifying walk to Mr. Durnst's office.

# Chapter 11

I got to Mr. Durnst's office as the sun was going down. Stupid vamp jobs. I'm missing out on all this high-quality Nevada sunshine...wait a minute. The sun is what's making me so damn hot. Maybe in places like Nevada, vamp jobs aren't so bad.

When I opened the door, I was greeted by a very familiar scent. Wolves. And I saw two rather attractive wolves who turned their noses up at me. Seriously. One sniff and they pointed their noses up like I was rotten milk. Told ya, two women in one town is a fluke. But I'm not complaining. Well, not about the two women.

These two wolves were not standing at the reception desk, which was empty. The humans had gone home. They were guarding a shiny metal elevator door, and the lobby wasn't very big. A sitting area and a reception desk. Maybe ten people could fit in it before they started bumping elbows.

After my 'warm welcome', I finally pulled my tail from between my legs and acted like I was supposed to be there.

"Mr. Durnst?" I asked, making my voice lower and more serious sounding. I might have even had a slight accent.

Yeah, I'd seen too many James Bond movies lately. Sorry. They happen to be on late at night. And who doesn't think Sean Connery is the coolest dude ever? I had to watch.

"Do you have an appointment?" the prettier of the two asked.

Yes, she hated me, she was still pretty. Slightly darker skin, Latino, I think. She had an accent and long, dark brown hair in waves. It nearly hit her very nice looking ass. Which I could see because the reflective surface of the metal elevator doors was very clean.

Important question. Do sexy women frequently wear skin-tight leather pants or do the skin-tight leather pants make them look sexy? There's a brain teaser for you.

The shirt she had on was adding to the sex appeal. It was a white button-up blouse with short sleeves, and the top few buttons were undone. And the thing was tight. Her boobs were attempting to jump out and say hello. I was happy to oblige.

'Hello, boobs!'

Fine. I said that with my eyes, not my voice.

The woman beside her, also guarding the elevator doors, was only slightly less attractive. I'm not even sure why she was less attractive. They looked very similar and were even in the same outfit. Something about the second one was just a little bit less.

Maybe it was the hair. The second one's hair was short and black. Their faces looked similar, even their bodies. I guess I like long wavy hair, or maybe it's the color of it.

After taking in the features of my attractive roadblocks, I came up with a better plan.

"No, but I'm here about Melissa Ressin," I said, normal voice now.

I'm done trying to copy Sean Connery. I suck at it. It just makes me sound like an American attempting to imitate Sean Connery. Which is what I am. Pathetic.

I have a question for you. If people knew about this world of vamps and wolves, do you think they would make more movies about this stuff or less? I mean, this world is pretty scary when I actually stop to think about it. There wasn't a day that went by when I didn't either fear for my life or fear for the lives of all the humans around me.

Sorry, trying to distract myself from the gorgeous women guarding the door while they radio their boss. I probably should have listened to what they were saying, but I could barely think straight.

First Candice outright flirts with me. Then Melissa practically begs me to have sex with her. I'd probably fuck skeleton girl about now. I need some kind of release and very soon.

The clean elevator door wasn't helping either. I could see their well-formed asses while staring at their beautiful faces. As well as their breasts that were begging me to stare. Men were not meant to see that much beauty at the same time. I think I might go blind or insane. Not sure which will happen first.

Without answering, they both moved aside, and the elevator doors opened. I guess that means I'm going to meet Mr. Durnst. Now, if I could just convince my feet to move me inside the elevator.

At the top floor, the doors opened, and I was greeted with two more spectacular specimens of 'Wolves Gone Wild!'. Same outfits as their companions downstairs. A redhead with freckles and very curly, very long hair. Her breasts seemed almost too large for her frame, but still attractive and very real. Believe me, I checked and doubled checked. They did, in fact, bounce. And a blonde of similar proportions with shoulder-length straight hair.

By the way, hers appeared real as well. Figured you were asking yourself that. Thought I'd appease your curiosity.

Was Mr. Durnst a fan of the ladies like me? Or were the ladies a fan of him? There had to be a reason for four very good-looking women being his security.

The redhead grabbed my arm, a little roughly, but I like it rough. Sorry, had to say it. Couldn't stop myself. It was a little rough, though. And the blonde walked behind me. Either staring at my ass. Doubt that. Or making sure I didn't pull anything funny. Much more likely.

We walked down a hallway with a few doors, but they were all shut and locked. I didn't check or anything, they just looked secure.

When we finally reached the end, the redhead opened the door to a cozy office. It was a thirty by thirty space with a large desk on one wall. Shelves and bookcases lined the rest. No windows, weird for a wolf. But, it did look very homey without windows. Like an important man's study or something. Even the floors had shag carpet, and I started to wonder if I'd have to take my shoes off.

Weird thing to think about right now, isn't it? But that's me, weird.

"You have information about Melissa Ressin?" he asked in a voice lower than mine, from behind the desk. I'd been too busy surveying the room to notice him.

Ron Durnst was an older looking man about my size. He had tanned skin, black hair, and a black beard. Both of these had grey hairs here and there. Salt and pepper look, I think they call it. He looked very important and very powerful. Even his black suit jacket, laid carefully over the arm of his chair, and white button-up shirt he wore, made him look far more important than my tee-shirt and jeans.

"Yes," I started, then got to why I was there. "Do you know about her father feeding dogs to wolves?" I asked.

I can do some fact-finding type speech when I need to, but remember. I'm shaking in my little space boots here. And nervousness turns the valve in my mouth on full blast. I tend to be very blunt when I'm nervous or scared. Right now, I'm both.

"Seems we have a lot to talk about Mr...?" he asked, leaving me to fill in the blanks. Then he stood and motioned to one of the women, who I was sure was standing behind me at the door. I heard one of them walking and realized that with the tight leather pants, they were wearing black leather shoes with two-inch heels. Stylish security. Does he get all four women? I'm jealous. I haven't had four women in my life. Hookers don't count.

Was everything about Mr. Durnst cooler than Ressin? Or me, for that matter? Even his guards were cooler than Theodore Ressin's. And I had no guards. Where the hell are my sexy guards?

The blonde grabbed a bottle of what looked like wine and headed toward Mr. Durnst. I'm tired of calling him Mr. Durnst. It just makes me more anxious. I'm just calling him Durnst from now on.

"Clayton Huntsvein," I said and stuck out my hand across the table. "You can call me Clay."

Durnst shook my hand then motioned for me to take a seat. The blonde waited patiently for Durnst to finish, then handed him the bottle. With a quick flash, I saw a bottle opener zip by as Durnst uncorked the wine with a pop. Damn, he was fast. How old was this wolf?

Here I am trying to act like Sean Connery, and this guy, if he had an accent, would be Sean Connery. Damn, I suck.

"Stories about you don't tell the half of it," I said, trying to be cool and trying to get him to spill information.

He gave a chuckle, poured out two full wine glasses, then pushed one my way.

"People have this idea that I'm two hundred years old," he said, then leaned in, pretending to share a secret. "I'm four hundred and thirty-six." Then he leaned back, swished his wine, and sniffed it.

I tried to do the same but nearly managed to splash some in my lap. I don't think he caught it, but he did smile a little wider. I'm a doofus, and this guy is fucking James Bond. What the hell am I doing here? Seriously. Why the hell am I here?

I don't investigate things, I find people. I found Melissa. Job complete. Why couldn't I turn her in, collect my reward, then get on with my life? Because she's a woman in trouble. Damnit, Mom! You let me down this time.

I took a large sip of the wine, nearly half of it. What? It was damn good wine. I usually drink beer, but I can enjoy a good wine when I want to. And this was good wine!

"So," he started after setting his wine on the table. "What is Theodore Ressin up to? And where is my sweet Melissa?" Durnst asked.

I was starting to get a funny feeling again. Like at the warehouse. It was all starting to feel a bit too cordial. Like I had walked into a trap.

'My sweet Melissa'? Who talks like that? And if she was so sweet, why are you not worried, mister old wolf? Hmm? Answer that one?

Woah. This was some strong wine. It was hard to concentrate. And why didn't he drink his? He smelled it but didn't even take a sip. IT'S A TRAP! Too bad I didn't listen to my gut.

"Ressin is stealing dogs. Feeding them silver. Then selling their body parts...to... This is some good wine," I said, looking down at my glass, which was now empty. When had I finished it off?

"Who is he selling the parts to?" Durnst asked.

"I...thinks...think...he's...oh shit!" I said and tried to stand, but my legs had other plans.

They crumpled like tissue paper under me. The next second, I was staring at the boots of one of the women. Not sure which one. I couldn't convince my neck to move my head, so I just stared at the boots. I bet it was the blonde. Just sayin. They looked like blonde girl boots.

"Dump him in the alley. We don't want to answer FBI questions when he turns up dead," Durnst said with anger. "And girls. No claw marks. Let the silver do the job."

"Yes, sir," I heard them say in unison.

Well, that's what I get. Give someone an inch...and they poison you with silver. Great! I had two women actually interested in me, and I was going to melt into a puddle of goo in the alley. Just perfect. A perfect end to a perfectly horrible stay in Langston Nevada. Lovely!

I barely remember the elevator ride to the street, but I think I remember them dropping me on my head at least once. Hard to tell when you don't know which way is up. But I clearly remember sitting upright beside a garbage pail full of rotten vegetables. Not sure how long I sat there, unable to move, before a car screeched its tires as it came to a halt in the alley beside me.

I vaguely recall Candice's beautiful face. But I definitely remember her perfume, as someone who wasn't Candice threw me in her trunk. After that, nothing. Not until I woke up.

# Chapter 12

My eyes burned, my head pounded, and I felt sick to my stomach when I forced my eyes open. I felt strange and had no clue where I was.

Have you ever had a ton of coffee or energy drinks? Maybe even soda? You know that feeling you get after you come down from the high? Like your body is aching in every muscle. Even your bones hurt. It's like a hangover but less sickening and more like someone is shocking your brain. Like your body needs something, and if you don't get it right now, your skin might fall off. That's kinda how I felt. Like every cell in my body was on strike and trying to kill me.

I tried to move my head, but it was pinned down. Up? I was sitting up. I moved my eyes, despite the blinding pain, and looked around.

I was in some kind of lab. There was one counter to the far right, and it was filled with papers and strange instruments. Directly in front of me was a pair of the sturdiest doors I'd ever seen. They looked like they could stop a charging elephant. Seriously. Like six-inch steel or something. Vault doors.

The floor was concrete and, though I could just barely get my eyes to go that high, I think the ceiling was too. What the hell? Was this a lab or a fallout shelter? It's a dungeon! A mad scientist's dungeon lab! I'm fucked!

Then I looked down and realized. I'm naked. Covered by just a towel over my lap. Not only am I naked. I'm strapped to a sturdy chair like device. Similar in thickness to the doors. Yep. Fucked! And not at all in a good way!

My nightmare had come to life. I was now a lab rat in a room that could hold me.

"Hello?!" I shouted, and it echoed. "Hello?!!" I shouted louder. My brain felt like it wanted to explode, but I needed answers.

Then I heard a click from the door. Soon a woman in a lab coat walked in. She wore shoes that clacked loud enough to make me wince. As I looked to her face...

"Candice?!" I shouted with fear and shock. Maybe even a little sadness.

She was going to do tests on me? The complete and utter betrayal I felt was worse than the silver. How could she? I trusted her. I lo... I guess I am an idiot. A real, lick the windows on the bus, idiot.

"Glad you're awake. I thought we lost you. Damn, you are a tough son of a bitch."

"What are you talking about? What's going on?" I asked frantically. Normally I would have taken the joke bait, but not now. Not when I felt so...betrayed!

"Calm down, Clay. Everything will be fine." She scooted a stool I hadn't seen, in front of me. Then she pulled herself up on it and sat directly in my line of sight.

"Explain, please. Before I have a heart attack," I urged her. I might have been begging. I wasn't crying, though. Seriously. I didn't cry. I just wanted to.

"I don't think that would kill you," she said with a laugh.

I'm glad someone's laughing. It sure as hell won't be me.

"Calm down and listen, Clay. We're not going to hurt you," she said calmly. It didn't help.

"We?!" I shouted.

She was working for someone. I was going to be a lab rat. They always tell the victim, 'we're not going to hurt you' right before they hurt you. I'm so fucked!

"I mean me. I promise you that I will never hurt you," then she smirked. Seconds later, she winked. "Not unless you want me to."

Oh, just great. I was having a panic attack, and miss goddess in front of me was playing comedian temptress. Just lovely. I couldn't decide if I was terrified or turned on.

"I'll explain everything. Calm down and let's talk," she said and glanced over at some machines. I hadn't noticed those either. Man, I suck at observation when I'm scared out of my mind.

They looked like heart rate and blood pressure. Standard stuff you use to monitor...a fucking lab rat! I'm doomed!

I pulled at my restraints. I'm a big guy, but they held tight. Not even a groan or anything from the solid metal clamps on my wrists, elbows, thighs, and ankles. I was stuck. Even I couldn't break out of these.

"Those are just a precaution," she stated, motioning to the clamps.

"Precaution for what?" I asked fearfully. Why would I need these? What were they going to do to me? Stab me with everything known to man? That would be my guess.

"Precautions so you don't accidentally kill me while I'm trying to help you," she said, still speaking calmly.

It was starting to work. I was calming down. And yes, I probably would have killed her accidentally, feeling like I did. Then what would happen to me?

'Looney bin, room for one, please. I'll take my straight jacket in extra-large.'

Killing a woman I didn't know would be horrible. Killing Candice? I'd lose it completely.

"I'll calm down. But please explain what the hell is going on," I begged. Still no crying...thankfully.

I saw the blips on the monitors smooth out, and she saw them as well.

"Good. Now stay calm. I'll start at the beginning," she said. Still sounding just a little patronizing, but I didn't blame her. I was a fucking nut case. An unstable killing machine. I'd be a little patronizing too.

"Ok," I said, assuming she was waiting for me to acknowledge my willingness to listen.

"You were poisoned with silver," she said. "A lot of silver."

I looked at my legs then my hands. Couldn't see my chest. Then back at her.

"Why am I not a puddle?" I asked, paying much closer attention now. Candice was making no sense. I should be dead.

"You have a resistance to silver. Thankfully, Durnst didn't know that. Doubling the dose he gave you might have made you sick," she said with a laugh.

Oh yeah, laugh at the naked guy strapped to a chair after he's been poisoned with silver. Real funny stuff.

Then I started to smirk as it sunk in. It was kind of amusing. And I was resistant to silver? That's actually pretty cool.

Candice picked up a silver knife and walked over to me. I freaked.

"Wait!" I said and tried to hold up my hands. But they were stuck.

"I'm not going to stab you," she comforted. "I just don't have anything else made from pure silver."

"What are you going to do then?" I asked.

She walked closer, and I noticed that I couldn't see a shirt under the long lab coat? Hmm. What did she have on under there? I could see skin. Lots of skin. And why was that suddenly more important than the silver knife coming my way?

I have issues.

"I'm just going to put it on your hand. You'll see," she said, holding up her other hand then placing the flat part of the blade across the back of my hand.

It took a few seconds before the burning started, but it wasn't like I'd seen from other wolves or vamps. Skin contact usually caused a violent outburst, skin melting, and a lot of screaming. To me, it felt like the heat from the sun. Hot and uncomfortable, but not scorching.

"See?" she asked and pulled the knife off.

Where she had placed the blade, a red indention was left but no burn. It vanished as I watched my hand. This was so cool!

"Are you going to run tests on me then? Is that why all of this?" I asked as I shook the restraints again. That's when I noticed the clamps across my chest and shoulders. I hadn't really been paying attention to them before. I was really stuck.

"Clay. It's me. You can trust me," she said and pulled the knife up. She placed her finger on the tip of the blade, and I knew what she was going to do.

"No! Don't!!" I shouted and shook my bindings, but she punctured her finger anyway.

As the blood dripped down the blade, I saw it in slow motion. The room started turning a light shade of red, and I knew it was coming. I hadn't even registered the smell yet, but something deep inside me had. The monster was coming, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"Candice! Run!" I shouted in a voice that sounded like the animal I was becoming.

She didn't move. She dropped the blade and held up her finger. Another drop of blood slowly made its way down.

"You won't hurt me. I'm betting my life on it," she said.

She tried to sound calm, but I could hear the quiver in her voice. I could hear her heart rate rising. I didn't need any machines to tell me how fast her blood pumped through her veins. I could practically see it pounding, louder and louder. It was all I could do to block out the thump, thump, thump of her heart as it picked up speed.

"Clay. It's me. You won't hurt me," she said, still trying to sound brave, though I could tell she was shaking all over her body.

Then she walked closer. I knew my eyes had changed. I could feel my fangs and claws. What was she doing? I didn't want to kill her.

"Please," I begged her, my voice sounding more like the beast.

"You won't hurt me. I know you won't," she said, calmness flowing from her voice, though her body told another story.

She took another step, then another. I could feel my muscles bulging against the restraints and heard them groan in protest.

"Candice. Don't," I begged, but she still walked closer.

"Concentrate on my voice, Clay. Look at my face. You don't want to hurt me," she said. Yet she still held up her bloody finger, only inches from my face.

I tried, I really tried to look at her face, but I couldn't see anything besides the blood. I had been hungry before I'd been poisoned. After expelling it, I was starving. The hunger was so strong.

"Stick out your tongue," she said and inched her finger forward.

"Don't," I said. But it was almost begging. I really didn't want to hurt Candice. And yes, now tears were in my eyes. Don't judge me! I didn't want to kill The Goddess of Sexy Soup, but my beast did.

"Stick out your tongue," she said forcefully. And this one I obeyed. I didn't even register the impulse to do it, but I stuck out my tongue. "Please don't take off my finger. I really like my finger," she joked.

This calmed my rage and hunger. I don't even understand why, but I felt more at ease.

As she inched her finger closer to my tongue, I saw her sweating. I saw her shaking. She was terrified, but she trusted me. Why in the hell did she trust me? I didn't trust me.

"Ok. Here goes," she said and touched her bloody finger to my tongue.

It was like ten thousand volts of electricity when her blood touched my tongue. It felt like electricity and fire, all at once. An explosion shook my brain, and my vision faded. Then, just as quickly, my eyes found her beautiful face again. My tongue must have absorbed it immediately because, in a second, it was over.

"Good," she said, then slowly removed her finger. "I know you're probably starving. Just one more and I'll give you blood." She spoke so slowly and calmly that I couldn't deny her. She was keeping me sane. I have no idea how or why, but the beast no longer wanted to harm her. The beast would obey. The beast wanted to obey.

"Open your mouth wide," she said sheepishly.

I did as she commanded. My vampire fangs were out, along with my wolf fangs. I must have looked terrifying, but she didn't back down.

"Oh, boy," she sighed. "And this was my idea." She laughed, which eased the fog over me.

Her voice, her laugh, pushed the monster away. Or was it pulling the real me forward? Perhaps it was simpler than that. Maybe the beast wanted her as much as I did.

I was mostly transformed now, and I was still in control. It was her voice. All my mother's edicts and rules. The ones that became mine over the years. This was why. Candice's voice controlled the monster. Even he couldn't disobey Candice. The beast was Candice's servant, whether he liked it or not. But, if you ask me, he loved it.

"Now, completely transform," she said, and I heard the quiver in her voice again. I complied.

Fur covered my body in an instant, and my muscles swelled to the point of nearly breaking the restraints, but they held.

"You are...," she didn't finish, and she didn't have to. I smelled it on her. Her attraction. She had nothing on under the lab coat. Why?

"Almost done with this part, Clay. Now I want you to drain just a little of my blood." She walked closer and exposed her forearm.

I wanted to shout no, to scream it, but I couldn't. I was all beast now, and the beast couldn't speak. But I was still conscious. I had some kind of control over it.

She inched her forearm closer to me.

"Just a little. I know it will hurt. It's ok," she said calmly and put her forearm in front of my mouth.

I positioned my fangs on her skin and waited. I couldn't speak, but I hoped she saw my look.

"It's ok. I trust you, Clay," she said with a soft, even tone. Her shaking had stopped.

I pierced the skin on her forearm and felt the explosion of blood hit my tongue. I had never tasted fresh blood from a human. I had never trusted myself to stop. The tiny drop of blood from her finger was nothing compared to the amount that came from her arm. I was not prepared for the sensations.

My mind swirled. I felt like I might lose consciousness from the sheer bliss in my mind. My vision was blurry, all I could see was red, but I wasn't gone. Somehow Candice kept me in control. I knew exactly how much pressure to put on her arm so that I didn't hurt her any more than was needed.

Blood. All I could think of was blood. The sheer joy as it trickled down my throat. It felt like drinking pure electricity. Every place it touched was lit up like a Christmas tree.

Then it was sucked away as she spoke.

"Stop," she said quietly. She didn't yell, and she didn't sound angry.

I retracted my fangs and heard the sigh of relief from her. She didn't completely trust me. And that's ok. I didn't trust me either.

"Now change back, and I'll get you a bag," she said and headed behind me. There must have been a fridge behind me. As I heard the door open and close, I was certain there was.

She placed the bag up to my mouth and once again directed me.

"Just the vamp fangs," she said.

I did as I was told. I could have spoken now, but the hunger was overwhelming. It clouded my higher brain functions. Although I could speak, I doubt it would have made much sense.

I drank the whole pint down as quickly as I could and relished in the relief it brought. It wasn't like drinking her blood, but it was still blood. It soothed the beast. After my bag was empty, she tossed it in the garbage and looked at me guiltily. I could still smell the attraction coming from her. This was going to get worse...much worse. I could tell.

"One more, then we're done," she said, and her fear disappeared. A deviously seductive smile replaced it.

She started unbuttoning her lab coat and, I was right. She had nothing on underneath. After the fourth button, I was certain.

"This is a bad idea," I said to her.

I could feel my excitement rising, and I'm sure she could see it. It wasn't a very big towel in my lap.

"This was all my idea. I take full responsibility for anything that happens," she said, and I heard her voice shaking again. "Remember. It's not your fault if you lose control. I'm just betting that you won't force me." She continued unbuttoning as she spoke. "I want to, but not today, not now. Keep that in mind."

She nervously worked her fingers lower. The sixth button, then the seventh. When she was finished, she held the coat closed, took a deep breath, then let it drop to the floor.

I had no idea that angels were real until she dropped that coat. Now I'm sure. I have never, in my entire life, seen a woman who looked like Candice. The perfection of her curves, the way her stomach muscles led the way to... The strip of hair that covered... The sheer beauty of her body pulled the beast back to the surface.

He came back full force, and the room started fading to red. I could feel the change happening again but couldn't stop it. I lost control but could still see. It was like watching a horror movie.

"Clay?" she asked, and I heard the fear this time. Not just quivers and shakes. She was afraid.

"Clay?" she asked again, more loudly, more fearfully.

I vaguely remember the restraints complaining as I snapped each one of them and stood. I towered above her naked body and looked at her like my prize. I could feel her fear. I could smell it. And I didn't care.

"Clay?" she asked again, this time quieter, like a child afraid that the monster would hear her.

The monster did hear her.

I grabbed her by the waist and pushed her, face first, over the counter, allowing me better access. Then, as I was about to have my way with her, I heard someone shout 'STOP!'. But she hadn't said it. I did. In my head.

This was breaking rule number one. Never, under any circumstance, hurt a woman or force her to have sex. The first part was mom. The second part I added when I was old enough to modify the rules. Because forcing a woman to have sex is hurting her.

I grabbed the counter with enough force that my claws pierced its laminated surface. As I struggled with my beast, I clenched my teeth and felt my fangs dig into my lip. I could hear the counter breaking off in my hands, then I heard her voice.

"Why did you stop?" Candice asked.

I reversed the change some and was able to speak.

"You said you didn't want to," I said in a voice closer to my own.

I released the counter and backed away, ashamed. When I was back on the solid metal chair, she slid herself off the counter and walked up to me regretfully.

"You could tell that I was attracted to you. You can smell it, right?" she asked. She didn't bother to cover herself, but I was so ashamed that I couldn't look at her.

"Yes," I replied, full of remorse for what I had almost done.

She grabbed my face and forced me to look at her eyes once more.

"Then why did you stop?" she asked. I think she wanted to see my facial expressions.

"Because without your consent, I would have tortured myself forever," I explained.

This produced a smile. She moved her other hand up and placed one on each cheek. Then she kissed me gently on the lips.

"I didn't even have to tell you to stop," she said as she released my face and walked back to the coat she had discarded.

"I could have really hurt you," I urged her. "I was about to...well, you know."

She pulled the coat over herself then walked to the counter I had tried to destroy. As she walked, she buttoned up the coat, then opened a drawer. She tossed me a pair of shorts, which I quickly and graciously put on. Then she smiled at me.

"I knew you wouldn't," she said with more confidence than she'd had the entire time. I had to call her out.

"You were afraid," I said. "You didn't know. You guessed."

"Maybe a little, but I had faith in you. Sometimes that's better," she said and walked up to me. She placed both her small hands on my chest and looked up at me with desire. Not even kidding. And yes, I could smell it. Apparently, she found my self-control exciting.

"I can smell it again," I said.

"And you'll probably smell it a lot when you're around me. But...," she said regretfully, then slapped her hands on my chest and walked toward the counter again. "I'm not ready for that kind of commitment yet. You're still pretty young. I don't want either of us to feel trapped."

"Trapped?" I asked, trying to avoid what I knew to be true.

"If this...," she motioned between us. "No. When...this happens. It will be forever."

"What makes you think that?" I asked and added a laugh to enforce it.

Despite my attempt to hide it, I knew she was telling the truth. If she asked me to marry her right this second, I would. I wouldn't even hesitate. There was something about Candice. Something I couldn't resist. I didn't have to obey her. The beast didn't have to obey her. We both wanted to. Good dog!

"You might be able to smell my feelings, but I can see yours in your actions. You'd never leave me, even if you wanted to. Just like when you couldn't force me. I can't do this until I know for sure that we both want forever."

Well, this was just fucking great. I'd finally found the perfect woman, and the timing was off. Just my luck.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said and leaned back against the battle-worn counter. There were two large chunks missing where my claws had dug in. "When it's right..." That grin and the way she lifted her eyebrows. I never wanted her more. "But, now is not the time."

"Well, shit!" I said. This was a lot to take in. "What now?"

"I should probably tell you who I really work for," she said with a fake cringe. The kind that women do to ease bad news. It's cute and, truthfully, very endearing.

"Hit me," I said, then leaned back on my hands.

"OIS," she said, then grinned at my confused look. "The Office of Independent Supernaturals."

"Never heard of it," I stated.

"We're very secretive. We deal with these kinds of things," she said and motioned around vaguely.

"Like my tests?" I asked, not understanding.

"Umm, no. That was my personal project." The way she looked at me. I have never felt so wanted by anyone. And I thought tests would be horrible? At that moment, I wanted more tests. "I was referring to the situation with the poisoned dog organs." She grinned at me and rolled her eyes.

"Oh," I said, unsure how to answer.

"Want a job? You've already passed the physical," she said with a laugh.

I joined her laugh then pushed myself up.

"Why would I want to give up all my perks?" I walked over, then leaned against the counter next to her and tried my best to ignore the alluring scent coming from her. She had said no. Even the beast would not disobey Candice.

"I know," she said and crossed her arms, teasing me. "Those motels...that you have to pay for. And all the backup...that you don't have. That would be hard to give up."

"I'm just not sure," I said and mimicked her stance. I peered down at her and smiled.

"I'll give you a badge," she teased.

"Oh, if there's a badge. How can I say no?" I asked then watched her head to the door.

"Let me grab a shower real quick and get some clothes on," she said at the door and swung it wide open. "Wouldn't want to make your animal side come out again."

"Is shower code for something?" I asked, hopefully.

She raised one eyebrow and peered at me.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she stated with a wink, then walked out.

"Yes. I very much would like to know!" I exclaimed then followed her out of the dungeon testing lab.

# Chapter 13

Ok, that whole situation was very tense. Not much room for jokes. You don't have to look so pleased about it. Anyway. Candice explained quite a bit about the OIS. Here's the quick and dirty version.

OIS has been around for about five hundred or so years. Possibly longer, she wasn't sure. Although, I did get the feeling that she was still keeping something from me. This was part of her secret, but not all of it. I was sure of that. I'd have to dig into that later, after Melissa was safe.

OIS watches over and polices supernatural beings. Wolves, vamps, and a few others that she didn't mention by name. I wonder if it's dragons. Please let it be dragons. That would be so cool to see a dragon. Fine...it's probably not dragons. Sad face.

I'd basically just gotten a promotion. The OIS would put in the paperwork to have me transferred from the FBI tracker program to their super-secret spy program. Ha HA! One step closer to becoming Sean Connery. I'm a fucking spy! Woohoo!

My job would be to go in, undercover, like Candice did as a police detective. And I would go wherever in the US that they needed help figuring stuff out. Each country had their own branch. Don't want to step on anyone's toes. Although Canada, the U.S., and Mexico are very cooperative. I might end up helping in those two countries, and agents from there might be helping me. Same continent and stuff like that. England, Great Britain, whatever they call that place. They like to cooperate as well. Just not as much as our neighbors.

And my first mission? Save Melissa, stop Theodore Ressin from killing her, and apprehend Ron Durnst. Violence optional. I'm choosing violence. Can you blame me? I like violence, and Ted wants to kill his sexy daughter.

By the way, we did end up talking about our whole sexual tension thing. She basically gave me permission to sleep with whoever I want. I know, right? Very disappointing. That's probably not what you thought I was going to say, was it?

Still, she does have a point. I'm young. If you don't count hookers, I've slept with three women. Like I said, two women attracted to me in the same state is fucking miraculous.

She was forthcoming and honest about the whole thing. She was going to sleep with other people too. We're not in an open relationship because we don't have a relationship. She made it very clear, repeated it more times than I could count. She wasn't telling me no. She was telling me, not yet. And I believed her.

It was both the strangest and most honest conversation I've ever had with a woman. She laid everything out that she wanted. She wanted me...eventually. And I wanted her. You kidding me? How could I not want her? But she also wanted me to 'sow my wild oats', her words not mine. That way, when we did get together, I'd have no regrets and...I'd be all hers and only hers. That phrase gives me the chills. In a good way.

I seriously thought it was 'sew wild oats'. I always wondered how they were stringing wild oats together with thread and what in the hell that had to do with sex. But, hey. I'm new to the human world. Sort of. Eight-year gap. No high school. I missed a lot.

After our _meeting_ , she's kinda like my handler now, what else would you call it? Dungeon torture time? Ok, not so much torture, more like sensual teasing. Still,...she's not exactly my boss, but she's sorta my boss. So, it's a meeting. Just a very strange meeting. But, back to the point. After our meeting, I headed back out to do my job. My new job, which was basically the same as my old job. I think I'm being played here. New title with no raise? Yeah, but the Candice benefits are really nice!

# Chapter 14

First things first. I needed to deal with Theodor Ressin. Not going to have Melissa turning up dead while I was trying to deal with Durnst. Durnst would take much longer than dealing with mister short, pale, and toupeed. Plus, I had to go to Ressin Tech. to get Melissa. Two birds...

So, I walked in the door, and whaddaya know. Seriously. That's a word. It is. Fine, be the grammar police, why don't ya.

Anyway, I noticed miss Bitch Face. I know she's not a wolf but that look on that pretty redheaded face. I like calling her Bitch Face. Bitch Face is walking right at me, bitchier than normal.

"You need to leave," she said in a voice that annoyed me more than it should have.

"I'm here for Ressin," I said and held out my badge.

Carl didn't even have to see the badge. He took one look at me, pulled out his earpiece, and headed for the door. I could feel the 'I didn't sign up for this' vibe coming off of him. His three buddies seemed to be on Bitch Face's side. I really like that name.

I waved to Carl, and he gave me a nod as he walked out the door. Much smarter man than I originally thought.

The three guards and Bitch Face tried to move me out the door. Ignoring my bright and shiny new badge. Some people have no respect for authority.

I would not be hurting Bitch Face, unless she attacked first, and then only with enough force to subdue her. Damn it! Why didn't they give me handcuffs? I mean, I had handcuffs of my own, but I had left them in my hotel. Besides, they were made for humans. I highly doubt they would hold vamps or wolves. I'd have to look into that when I got to see the actual office where I now worked.

Guard number one, I'll just number them to keep things simple. I never did get their names, and I'm a little too busy to read their name tags.

Guard number one threw a punch, I ducked. I'd like to say I didn't intend this, but that would be a lie. I knew exactly where his fist was going to land, and I could have stopped it, but I didn't want to. What? She deserved it.

His swing continued, and Bitch Face got it right in her bitchy face. Ow, that's gotta hurt. And she was out cold. Half-vamp, not the toughest and pretty young, I'd guess.

This left me with three.

I hit guard number one in the chest. I heard that satisfying crunch, and he stumbled backward while two and three tried to get around behind me and grab my arms. I still don't think they understood what was going on here. I wasn't there to take Ressin into custody. I was there to kill him.

They grabbed my arms, and I pulled them forward, smacking their faces into each other, and they went tumbling backward. Yeah, Three Stooges. What can I say? It was on after James Bond. I had to stay up and watch it.

I tell you what. Candice teasing me has helped me immensely. I felt like I could let more of my beast side out without having to go full-on Red Mode. I will have to thank her. Point is. I was a lot stronger now. These vamps were still vamps. Wolves are stronger, vamps are faster. And these guys were sub-fifty in age. Not old at all.

Guard one got to his feet, sees his friends, and decided that he was tougher than them. Cause the first time worked out so well for you, dumbass? Just stay down.

He ran at me, fangs out. I guess he thought I'd be scared? I was smart today. I wore a very baggy shirt and sweat pants, a size too large. In case you're wondering, no underwear. Commando all the way, baby!

My shoes would suffer but, I'd try not to eject the claws on my feet. Candice's _training_ is turning out to be quite useful. I'll have to see if she's willing to _train_ me once in a while. And by train, I mean...never mind. I'm sure you get it.

The point being. He shows his fangs. I show ALL of my fangs and roar at him. He proceeded to freak the fuck out. I mean yelling, begging, falling to the ground. I swear he even asked baby Jesus to protect him. I picked him up and tossed him over the reception desk, where he stayed. The only one not knocked out and the only one who saw my full set of fangs. Not that anyone would believe him in his state anyway.

I felt a little silly as I pushed the button and waited for the elevator. I could hear guard one behind the reception desk, cowering and praying. The whole time I was waiting patiently, tapping my foot, hands in front of me. If you could see this, you would laugh. I chuckled, just a little.

Once on the top floor, Ressin rushed at me. He grabbed my throat, and I removed his hands easily. After removing his hands from my neck, I grabbed him by the shirt collar and headed to the windows. You know what's coming, don't you? Won't make it any less satisfying.

"Wait. I'll pay you. I'll stop. I'll...I'll leave the city," he begged as I pushed him up against the window, and the UV protection cracked.

A sliver of sunlight hit his cheek, and he screamed as it turned black. Then I eased up, and the crack closed.

The stench of burning vamp is not pleasant. Now, don't try this at home kids, but it smelled like wet dog food mixed with gasoline, in a Styrofoam cup, had been lit on fire. Really, REALLY horrible.

"You can't do this!" he shouted.

I'd been waiting for someone to say that. I, once again, pulled out my badge, and he recognized it. That's when I saw acceptance wash over him. He knew I had every right to dispose of a dangerous subject in any way I saw fit. It's the law. A law I found out about two hours ago, but it's still a law.

"Tell Melissa I love her," he said.

My mouth fell open.

"You what?!" I shouted and pushed him into the glass harder. The UV protection split again, and another beam of light scorched his cheek before I eased up, and the crack closed. The whole office smelled like burnt vamp at this point. "She's hiding from you, you sick bastard!"

"It was just business. I still...," he started, but I didn't let him finish. I'd had enough of his fake father crap.

I tossed him out the window and watched as his flaming body exploded before it reached the street.

You knew. Come on. Admit it. You knew I was tossing him out the window. How could I resist? It's like having fireworks. You have to light them off. It's almost a crime not to.

# Chapter 15

As I made my way to the basement, I was both regretful and excited about seeing Melissa. I had just killed her father, but maybe she'd be happy he was gone. He treated her like a glorified pet and had been trying to kill her. I just hoped she would understand.

I knocked on the door quietly. I couldn't hear anything inside, so I knocked again, louder. This time I think I heard mumbling, then some rustling of...clothes? What was she doing, and who was she talking to? Not Carl. Who else knew she was here? And there was no response to her muffled speech. Did she have a secret phone that I knew nothing about? I was ready to knock a third time when the door flew open.

I think I had an aneurysm at this point. Forgot all about the secret phone and the fact that I should have been suspicious. I couldn't talk, I couldn't move, and I definitely couldn't look away.

Melissa was standing in the doorway with a robe on. A pink, satin robe that wasn't closed. And she had absolutely nothing on besides the robe. Nothing. And her lower extremities were shaved completely hairless. Can you say, Gulp?

Sidebar.

What is wrong with the word vagina? Or, for that matter, the word penis? Seriously. Why are these two words avoided like textual ebola? They are the names of body parts. Just talking about them shouldn't be treated as a crime, should it? They are not vulgar, that's what they're fucking called. Even in the sex scene of a book. Well, this isn't exactly a sex scene, but I can see everything. She's either not shy or trying to let me know that she's interested. I'm leaning toward the latter.

If I said, 'I caressed her knee, and she smiled, enjoying my touch.' Would you be upset? No. But if I replace knee with vagina? Then I'm a pervert or something. Ok, bad example, but I think you see my point.

Most books replace this word with others like mound, womanhood, umm...damn, I need to read more sex books. But you see my point. And the sex book idea might not be that beneficial to me. Claws and printed pages tend to not get along. And an eReader? Well, there goes fifty to a hundred bucks when my claws pierce the screen. Plus, I don't want to go all big and hairy when I'm horny as hell. The few I have read have left me that way. Anyway, what was I saying?

Oh, yeah, back to nearly-nude Melissa.

She did close the robe, but she let me take it all in first. Then she pretended that she didn't know it was open. Yeah, right. She didn't know? This basement was about twenty degrees cooler than her room. She knew. Her nipples sure as hell knew. Not that I could see them directly, they were just trying to poke their way through the satin robe.

"Sorry about that, Clay," she said with a smile that said, 'sorry, not sorry'.

After I was able to jumpstart my brain, I said a few uhhs and umms, then returned to being sentient.

"Your father is dead. I'm heading over to confront Durnst," I said, trying desperately to keep eye contact. The man side of my brain kept trying to inch my eyes down, just in case she gave me another free show.

What?! Candice turned me on then sent me away. What do you expect? I'm like a curling iron left on, just waiting for someone to come along and burn themselves. Melissa just grabbed the curling iron with both hands.

Ok, that analogy got way weirder than I thought. I so didn't mean it like that. I wanted that, but that's another story entirely. And I really don't have time right now. It wouldn't be a quickie. I'm in the mood to savor every curve of her body and every feeling.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, sex oozing from her voice. She leaned against the door frame and 'accidentally' let the robe slip open, down to her navel.

What do I want you to do? How about me?

The whole time, my eyes were trying to decide if they wanted to stare at the gap between her breasts or the area under her navel where her 'womanhood' started. Yeah, fine, I'll conform.

"How about you just wait here. You seem safe here," I said, my eyes feeling like ping pong balls. They really couldn't figure out where they wanted to stare.

"How about I meet you in your motel room? I still owe you that reward," she said and let the robe fall open the rest of the way. I could see it all again. "That ok with you?"

I guess I couldn't see her nipples nor her ass. All is a bit misleading, but I could see her shaved womanhood.

Sheesh. I need to find better words for this sex stuff. I'm telling my life story. There's bound to be sex stuff. I need a romance novel thesaurus or something. They have those, right? I can look one up on the internet or something?

"That's...pillow? Why? Six? Potatoes." Ok, that's probably not what I said. I doubt it made that much sense. In my mind, Sean Connery. In my mouth, Porky Pig goes to a spelling bee. You get the idea.

"I'll stop by in, say, three hours?" she asked and put her hands on her hips. Not even trying to pretend she was embarrassed anymore.

I think I might have said 'Jelly Beans'. Not sure. She seemed happy about whatever I said. So, I turned and left.

Sweat pants. Great idea, Clay. She could have hung her robe on your *****.

What word should I use here? Manhood matches womanhood, but I'm getting real tired of that. Johnson. I like that...ish. I'll keep trying. Oh, man. I should totally do the thing where the body part matches your analogy thing. Let me do that again.

Sweat pants. Great idea, Clay. She could have hung her robe on your _closet rod_.

Boom! How do you like that?!

I'll keep trying. Sad face.

# Chapter 16

I walked up to the front of Durnst's hideout. Lair? What the hell should I call this place? Anyway, I'm at his building. And the two beautiful guards are missing. So, I walked up to the elevator and headed on up.

When the doors opened, I was clued in on why Durnst's sexy security wasn't at the bottom. Did someone warn him? Perhaps he'd heard about Ted Ressin's fiery plunge to the street. Either way, the sexy security grabbed my arms. Two on each. And I was reluctant to hurt them. So, I played along.

Candice therapy is about the best thing that's ever happened to me. Scratch that. Candice therapy is THE best thing that has ever happened to me. I can feel the control I have now. It's...ummm...powerful. Sorry, can't think of a better word. I felt like I could toss all four of the spectacularly dressed, sexy security guards into the next room if I wanted to. Yes, they had on the same stimulating outfits. And, as it usually goes with gorgeous women, they didn't get any less sexy since the last time I'd seen them.

They ushered me in front of Durnst again. He walked to the front of his desk, leaned on it, then looked at me with disappointment. Like I'd let him down by not being a puddle of wolf goo in the alley.

"You are an annoyance I never thought I'd see again," he said with a sigh.

Again with the disappointment. Sorry I can't die right, jackass!

"Do you want to explain why you want to kill off our kind? Or should we just fight to the death right now?" I asked.

You gotta give the villain time to explain his evil plot, right? That's in the spy rule books, isn't it? Not that I've seen them yet. I still don't even know where my office is. I really need to get on that.

Sidebar.

Just to make sure we're on the same page and that I didn't miss anything. I'll explain how I know that Durnst is the one behind the silver poisoning of the organs. I'll even number them for you. In case you need to come back and check my math...spelling? Whatever.

  1. Durnst poisoned me with silver. He has access to the required silver.
  2. Durnst had a meeting with Ressin. So, he more than likely, knew what Ressin was doing with the dog organs.
  3. Ressin was upset when he left his meeting with Durnst. They probably fought about Melissa or the poisoning of wolves or something.
  4. Ressin didn't take his head of security to meet the dastardly accomplice of his. This meeting was secret for some reason.
  5. Umm...I was certain there was a five. Did you guys see where I misplaced five?

Anyway, back to Durnst. Time for him to tell his side of the story. Maybe he knows where I put five?

"I'm the alpha of a vast pack...," he started and motioned to the area around me. But, I interrupted. I'm rude like that.

"You're an alpha?" I asked. I didn't laugh, I wanted to, but I kept it together.

Remember the part where werewolves have female alphas? I know that one IS in the rule book. Not so much of a book, more like verbal teachings, but it is the law. And a very important one. It's right after 'Don't harm a woman'. Trust me. I know these things.

"Times have changed. I think the humans have the right idea. Why have a weak female as a leader when they could have me?" he asked, and I nearly lost it. I almost had to put my hands over my mouth to stop the laugh.

I know, right? It's not polite to laugh at the evil villain's evil plans, but still. The humans are right? No wolf ever said that, ever.

Then I stopped repressing my resentful laughter and felt like hurting him. If it wasn't for the eight female hands on my arms, I would have strangled him. I used my words instead.

"Because women are smarter, you idiot!" Yeah, I said that. With feeling too.

Durnst just laughed. Which pissed me off even more.

"And that's why I've been poisoning lowlife wolves like yourself. The ones who can afford the clean stuff will understand my point of view. Females are weak and lack the willpower to do what needs to be done." He then crossed his arms and stared at me, just waiting for my witty retort.

"Oh, you mean like committing genocide?" I asked with a laugh. "If that's weakness, then sign me up."

I was starting to lose control here. Trying to kill me? That's one thing. I'm very annoying at times. Pretty rude too. I understand wanting to kill me, but insulting what I believe in? Thems fightin words!

"Kill him, ladies," he said then walked back to his seat.

You know. Up until this point, I hadn't realized how loosely they were holding me. You would think I might have noticed that. When they didn't move to attack me, I started to realize what was going on here. This gave me an idea. A really stupid, possibly suicidal idea, but those are my best ones.

"I challenge you," I said, and the women released my arms. Seemed his sexy security didn't follow his new outlook on life.

"What? Don't be ridiculous," Durnst spat back then sat. "Just kill him."

I looked at the four women, and not a one of them moved.

"He has the right to challenge you for alpha," the pretty one said. Ha! Tricked ya. They're all pretty. Fine, it was the Latino one with long wavy hair. I know why she's my favorite now. She's got some spunk.

All I know is that I better get some relief soon. Melissa better be ready and waiting with my reward. Hell. I might just take these four right here.

Nah, they still look like they hate me. They're just on my side.

Besides, how in the hell do you have sex with more than one woman at once? I guess I'm just not imaginative enough. But, for me, focusing on the one I'm with is most of the fun. Oh, wait! The women could entertain themselves with each other while I take turns. Oh, shit! I get it now. Oh, damn! Now I wish these women actually wanted me.

"Archaic rules. Kill him," Durnst said, then realized all four had backed away from me. "When I'm done with him. You will be next," he growled. Like really growled. His wolf was coming out.

My wolf side is a dark brown, like my eyes, his was jet black. He looked as evil as he was. Which was pretty damn evil. He was also pretty close to my size.

I pulled my shirt over my head, kicked off my shoes, then dropped my pants. What? I'm not walking all the way back naked. Even a cab ride would suck if you were naked. Remember, I've done that before. Awkward isn't a strong enough word. And I can't expect Candice to come to my rescue every time I get naked in public. Which seems to happen to me quite often. Do you think that says something about me?

I shifted and didn't worry about who saw me. If these women wanted to tell the werewolf authorities or the vampire authorities about me, then they could. Wait a minute. I am the werewolf and vampire authorities now. Woohoo! They would be telling my boss what I am, something she already knows. Jokes on them.

Sidebar time again.

Big fight scene coming up. Oops. Forgot to say 'spoiler alert'. Like you didn't know it was coming. Anyway. For those of you still following along. All twelve of you. I'm harboring no misconceptions that I'm Rembrandt or anything. Wait. Wasn't Rembrandt a painter? Fine. I'm not Shakespeare. I know about ninety-nine percent of the readers dropped off in the first chapter. I'm what they call abrasive.

So, for those of you still with me, please get a radio or other music playing device. Hell, use your computer. You do know what YouTube is, don't you? Anyway, put on the song 'Invincible' by Adelita's Way. Seriously. Do it. I'll wait.

...

...

I imagined the Jeopardy song playing right there. Didn't you?

Anyway, now that we've got the tunes. Fight scene!

Durnst charged across the room and slammed into my chest just as I finished transforming. I didn't know freight trains could move that fast. I don't think he broke any bones, but damn it hurt!

He shoved me clean through one of the brick walls of his room and into one of the side rooms. I really wish I'd paid more attention to the walls. Bricks hurt. No blood yet, but that headache would last.

After getting my bearings, I realized that strength was not going to win this. He was way stronger than me. I guess I picked the wrong song. I'm not feeling very invincible right now. Is there a song about a wolf getting his ass kicked? Maybe you should play that one instead.

He shook the dust from his head then charged me again. And I proceeded to take another semi-truck to the midsection. And, you guessed it, I flew through another brick wall. How in the hell does this building stand with so much brick inside it? The strangest things occur to me at the least appropriate times.

In the next room, I decided I'd had enough of being his punching bag. He charged again, this time with his mouth wide open. Right at my throat. Instead of taking this one like a 'man'. You know, being bullheaded and getting hurt when I don't have to, I slid to the side. I grabbed a desk that appeared to be made out of flimsy tin or steel, and I slammed it into the back of his head. It smashed like an empty tin can, and I realized I'd made a mistake.

Remember how I love the sound of crunching bone in bad guys. Well, I was disappointed. Instead of tumbling over, he looked at me, and I will fill in the blanks here because he didn't say anything. But his look said, 'Did you really just hit me with a desk?' He had a very expressive face for a wolf.

He lunged at me again. I tried to move to the side, like last time, and he got a piece of my chest with his claws. My blood started seeping out, and I could hear the female wolves, still in Durnst's office, gagging. Mr. 'Four hundred and thirty-six years old' didn't even make a face. He instead jumped at me yet again, grabbing my shoulders with his large hands, digging his claws in. I was going nowhere. Not if I wanted to keep my arms attached to me.

As he slammed my head into the ground, I felt the bones in my spine crack. It was going very badly. If I didn't do something soon, I'd be wolf chow.

I had no choice. He was going to kill me. I really had no choice. I didn't want to do this. I had to. Please believe me. If I'd had any other options. Any options at all. I would have taken them.

I opened wide and sunk my vamp teeth, and my wolf teeth, into his shoulder. He hadn't expected that. He was protecting his throat. I didn't need his throat. I'm not an ordinary wolf.

I had never tasted wolf blood. Never wanted to. I'm half wolf.

The sensation was like drinking boiling acid. It burned, and it stung like you would not believe. I wanted to spit it out, but at the same time, I could feel the power. This was not like human blood. It tasted like shit, but the power was incredible. I held on with my jaws as Durnst howled and tried to pull them off of his shoulder. Then he snapped at my throat but was in no position to reach it.

Slowly, my newfound power rose, and his power faded. I stood on my feet, his blood still draining into me. I think I must have grown a little. I felt larger. The looks on the female wolves was something I'll never forget. It was fear but at the same time, lust. For about two point five seconds, they wanted me but were afraid of me at the same time.

After I felt strong enough, I removed my jaws and pulled Dunst's head clean from his body with a snap. Then tossed his limp body at their feet.

I won't go into any more detail than that. I know some writers like to give you all the gory details, not me. I'll leave that up to your imagination.

While I walked back through the destroyed walls, I watched as the lust vanished, and fear overtook them. They were too afraid to run, too afraid to move. Then I got down on all fours in front of them and bowed my head.

My body shifted back to normal, and I could almost hear their confused looks.

"Which of you will take his place as alpha?" I asked.

I imagined them all looking at each other with dumbfounded looks on their faces. Then, after about thirty seconds, the redhead stepped forward. I was thinking the blonde, she had a leadership vibe to her, but the redhead works.

"I will," sexy redhead said. Sorry, I never did get their names. I'm just glad they looked so different. They wore the same damn clothes, and they were all hot as hell.

I raised my head and got to my knees. I shifted partially. Just enough so they could see my eyes and my fangs.

"The other three, keep her honest. Don't make me replace you," I said with my animal voice.

Now, I know I'm never going to hurt them. You guys know I'm never going to hurt them. But they don't know that. And you have to admit. That was a pretty cool line. You don't believe I said something that cool? That's what I really said. You gotta believe me. I said that!

Fine, don't believe me.

After that, I really didn't have much to say to them. They no longer looked at me with anything but fear. Told ya. Women don't really like me. I am kind of a prick.

I grabbed my clothes, headed to the elevator, and dressed on my way down.

# Chapter 17

My stomach churned, and my libido surged, the whole way back to the motel. I wanted my reward from Melissa, but at the same time, dreaded it. Picturing another woman when you're with a hooker is one thing. You're paying her. She isn't there because she finds you attractive. You're not betraying anyone.

What if I picture Candice while I'm with Melissa? How would I feel about that? Pretty shitty!

When I got back, I took a large breath, held it, then pushed open my motel door. And...I was very disappointed. No Melissa. No Candice. I was alone. That's about par for the course for me though. So, I flopped back onto my bed, just as someone knocked on the door.

"What now?" I mumbled to myself as I grabbed the handle. Not too firmly this time. Don't want to shell out another twenty bucks on their poor excuse for doorknobs.

All my insecurities and fears came rushing back when I saw...

Let me just interject before this goes any farther. I'm not the best at this stuff. Give me a little leeway, and I'll try not to interrupt this part. Not until it's over. Deal? Ok, here goes.

Melissa was standing in the doorway. She was wearing a white tank top that was way too tight. I could see her perk nipples pushing their way through the fabric. And her bottom half had the tightest pair of faded jean shorts I've ever seen in my life.

I blinked a few times to make sure I was not dreaming, and she grinned up at me.

"You want your reward right here in the doorway? Or are you going to let me in?" she asked.

I stepped to the side, but she didn't come all the way in. She grabbed the door from my hand and shut it while sliding her other hand under my shirt.

Being quite a bit shorter than me, she had to pull my head down for a kiss. And damn if it wasn't the best kiss I'd ever had, at least up to this point in my life.

Sorry, one more interjection. I had to add this part. Candice might be reading this. If you're reading this, Candice. I hadn't kissed you yet. Remember that. Ok, back to The Big Sex Scene. No more interruptions...I promise.

Her lips were so soft. Her tongue licked across my lips quickly then she pulled away and grinned before pulling my shirt over my head.

After my shirt was off, I helped her pull her tank top off. I tugged it off as quickly as I could, hoping I didn't tear it. Then she jumped into my arms while I tried to unbutton her shorts. She kissed my neck ferociously, all the way to my ear, then bit with one of her fangs. I could feel the blood, but she didn't even wince at the smell. She just switched sides as I finally managed to unbutton her shorts.

The feeling of her bare skin against mine was driving me insane. I needed to remove the rest of her clothes and mine as quickly as possible. I tossed her onto the bed, and when she landed, she finished scooting herself out of her shorts while I removed my sweatpants.

"My, my," she said with hunger, as her eyes worked down the length of me. "Looks like we both get a reward."

I climbed into bed, and she had her hands on my shaft before I could lay down beside her. Apparently, she was in a hurry as well. She guided me over to her cleanly shaven femininity and eased me inside.

"Oh, shit!" she said and leaned her head back. "OH SHIT! MORE!" I slid it in all the way, then she sighed and wrapped her legs around my hips.

After a few moments to settle, she started urging me with her legs as well as her voice. In between the most amazing kisses I'd ever experienced, she would claw my back and shout.

"Faster!" she said, and I obeyed. "Harder!" she grunted, then moaned as I obliged. "Yes!" her voice carried through the motel room. "YES!" she practically screamed.

Her tongue wrestled with mine as she moaned and sighed, faster and faster. I plunged in deeply, and she broke our kiss to scream. "FUCK ME HARDER, CLAY!!"

I obliged and slammed into her. Over and over as her screams of encouragement grew louder and louder. As I could feel the explosion building up inside me, she squeezed her legs around me tighter. Stopping me from moving.

"Go slow," she whispered.

I did as I was told. I lifted myself up on my hands and watched as she struggled to stop the orgasm that was trying desperately to break through. She grabbed her breasts and squeezed them while biting her lip and pressing her eyes shut tightly.

Then her mouth eased open as I moved slowly, teasing her, torturing her. Her arms fell to her sides and grasped the sheets. It was clear how difficult it was for her to hold on, and it only urged me to go slower.

"Oh, shit," she whispered and arched her back. Holding on as long as she possibly could. Her fingernails became claws and tore at the sheets.

I pulled myself almost all the way out then slowly eased back in. "Oh, shit," she said louder, almost unable to hold on another second. Her claws buried into the mattress as she desperately tried to hold out for one more.

One more time, I nearly removed myself, then slid it in as far in as I could. "OH, SHIT!" she screamed and grabbed for my shoulders and clung to me. Biting her fangs into my shoulder as she slapped her claws against my back and dug in. Holding on for dear life as all her muscles tensed and quaked with pleasure.

This caused me to release my own pleasure. I was wracked with lightning bolts, and my muscles spasmed uncontrollably as her claws buried into my back. Her fangs dug into my shoulder. Not causing pain, I could feel no pain. What should have been pain, urged the pleasure to new heights.

After I could see straight, I exhaled and rolled off of her. She gave me a smile of satisfaction as she bit her fingernail, and a guilty smile spread.

"I didn't hurt you too much, did I?" she asked.

She laid beside me, unashamed of her nakedness. I let my eyes wash across her body.

"No, that was amazing," I said.

Every soft curve and every quivering muscle on her stomach urged my eyes lower. As my eyes landed on the cleanly shaven womanhood that had brought me so much pleasure, I wanted more.

She must have seen my look. She rolled toward me and placed a hand on my chest, keeping me on my back. Then she laid her head on my chest.

"You can have more, but first, I need a little rest. You're very...exhausting," she said with a laugh.

We laid there for what must have been five minutes before all the events of the day caught up to me. I dozed off, not sure if she was already sleeping or if she was just recharging for round two.

# Chapter 18

I kept my promise...almost. No silly interruptions. But now that The Big Sex Scene is over with. I'm back, baby! You know you love me. All four of you that are left. Just sayin.

One comment about 'The big sex scene'...wait, you don't believe it happened like that? Come on. Why would I lie?

Candice, are you reading this? You believe me, don't you?

And I told you she'd be a screamer. Not that I minded. In fact, admit it or not, most men like vocal encouragement. We barely understand women, we certainly don't understand how sex feels for them. If you let us know that something feels good, we'll for damn sure try to do it more. Well, most men will. The ones that don't? You know what? I'll put myself out there again. If you find a man who doesn't like you moaning and screaming, call me. I'll step in and hopefully help you raise the volume in the room.

No, not me. I'm not screaming. Sheesh. That's not even close to what I meant. Oh, just never mind. Back to the story.

So, you're probably about five steps ahead of me by now, right? You've probably figured out what I completely missed. That thing that was just within my grasp, but I could never quite reach. Yeah, you know what I missed, don't you? How stuff can just fly right by me is astounding. But, like I said. I'm not really cut out for solving mysteries. Give me a bad guy on the run, any day.

And if you haven't figured out what's coming, I guess I don't feel so bad. You shouldn't either. I missed it completely.

To be fair, I blame all the gorgeous women that distract me all the time. Hell, one of them stood in a doorway naked. How can I be blamed for not realizing that she was on the phone and who she was on the phone with? Someone had to have warned Durnst.

I woke when something stabbed my thigh. At least she didn't stab something else. It was still flapping in the breeze. I felt the solution enter my bloodstream as I forced my eyes open.

"You stupid fucking wolf!" she shouted, sitting beside me. She was staring down at me, fully clothed. Well, as close to fully clothed as a tank top and tight shorts would get her.

I tried to talk, but the solution, which I assume was heavily loaded with silver, kept me from moving and speaking. It must have had other things in it to keep me from attacking, smart woman...almost.

"I can't believe I had to fuck you to finish you off. You are the biggest pain I've ever had to deal with. You just won't die. Not that I'm complaining. At least you're good in bed. I didn't even have to fake it with you. I think that's the first time I ever came for real with a man. Huh? Too bad you're so honest. I might have kept you around for a sex slave." She patted my chest and laughed. "Why does your blood smell so bad?" she asked then stood upright. Then she looked like she was about ready to throw up. She shivered in disgust. "Bleh. It even tastes like shit."

Ok, so my mind started to play catch up. Stupid Don and Slimy never said Mr. Ressin. They simply referred to their boss as Ressin. Theodore Ressin had no reason to help Durnst. He was going broke, sure, but why would he poison off his clients. That part never did make sense to me until now. I had killed an innocent vamp. A sleazy one, but innocent.

Theodore Ressin hadn't been a part of the dog organ business at all. Melissa had been Durnst's partner. Carl had slipped me the list with Stupid Don's name on it for Melissa. To lead me down the path she wanted me on. I bet she fucked Carl too.

I'm not normally one to disparage a woman, but Melissa was a whore. A real, sex for favors, whore. And when this silver wears off, I'll put her in jail and beg for my life while they bring me up on charges of being a stupid fucking man.

Yeah, I was thinking with the wrong head. And I'll do time for it, I'm sure. I just hope they let me keep my head. The one on my shoulders. Well, the other one too. That would suck.

"I appreciate you killing Durnst for me. He was a needy fucker," she said and picked her nails while she stared down at me. "I had to fuck him twice a week just to keep his damn mouth shut. Dick the size of a pencil."

Then she started to mimic Durnst.

"Why would I poison the wolves? I am a wolf. Oh, Melissa, fuck me, and I'll do whatever you say." Then she looked at me with her true face. A hateful, bitter face. She spoke in her own voice once more. "It took several blow jobs before he finally agreed. I mean shit. They're just wolves. What's the big deal? He was a good parrot though." She went back to mimicking Durnst. "Clear out the unsavory types." She laughed hatefully. "Like he was smart enough to come up with that."

"And you were the one who finally killed father for me. Not him! I couldn't get Durnst to pull his dick out of me long enough to do anything. Grrr!" She stomped around then looked down on me again. "Perhaps I should have slept with you sooner. At least I would have gotten something out of it." She grinned seductively then returned to her monologue.

"But, now father is gone, and Durnst is gone. I have father's assets and no one to stand in my way as I put your inferior species in its place. You're guard dogs, nothing more. Well..." She looked at me lustfully again. "Some of you do have other uses." Then she laughed. "All in all, not a bad plan." She looked deep in thought then realized I wasn't dying as fast as she wanted.

"Damn. You are tough. Most wolves would be dead by now." She looked at me curiously then sat beside me again and mused. There wasn't a lot I could do until this wore off, but I was beyond pissed.

"Just one thing left to do. Hmm. Don't suppose you'll tell me where to find that snoopy detective, will you? Can't leave any loose ends." She looked in my eyes and smiled. "Guess not." She stood and started toward the door. "Women are so much more difficult to kill. Is Candice gay? That would make this a whole lot simpler."

I think you can also guess what happened next. And if you can, could you clue me in on it? Because the next thing I remember is sitting in an FBI cruiser, handcuffed. I waited for my punishment while I watched guys in hazmat suits clean the remains of Melissa Ressin off my walls.

I think threatening Candice around me is not the brightest idea. Silver or no silver. Don't threaten my almost girlfriend, future wife, sorta boss. Not the brightest idea. And she called ME stupid?

# Chapter 19

Over the next week, I didn't see Candice even once. The FBI questioned me, in between the countless hours in a holding cell. I told them everything. And I mean everything. Well, not quite. Not what I really am. I was full of guilt, and I thought I should be punished, but I didn't want to become a science experiment.

I got the distinct impression they wanted to go for the death penalty. I didn't blame them. In fact, I thought I deserved it. Not only had I killed an innocent vamp, I had killed a woman. Strange that I felt more guilt for killing Theodore Ressin than Melissa. I assumed I'd go nuts after killing a woman. Hmm, maybe that's the reason. Melissa Ressin was no woman. She didn't deserve that title. Melissa Ressin was a monster. A monster worse than the one I hide.

After the week was up, the FBI tossed me out. Literally. They threw me out the front door. Apparently, they couldn't touch me. After a strange phone call during one of my interrogation sessions, the lead FBI dude just hung up, pulled me to the front door then tossed me out.

No explanations, no paperwork, nothing. I looked around puzzled until a limo came to pick me up and take me to the airport.

Did you know that the OIS command center is in the middle of Iowa? I'm not telling you the city, not even telling you the size of the city. That would get me in trouble. But, yeah, it's in the middle of Iowa. Who knew?

When I stepped off the plane, the heat and humidity hit me like a brick wall. If you've never been to Iowa in the middle of August, you have no clue what this is like. Yeah, Nevada is hot. I've been to Texas and Arizona too. Not even close. That's heat. This is torture.

Ok, if you've never been to Iowa in August, I want you to do something. Grab a heavy blanket. Fold it and put it in your bathroom. Then plug your tub and turn on the shower full blast hot. No cold at all. Then shut the door and wait outside the bathroom. Feel that cool air? Feels good, doesn't it?

Ok, when you think the tub is full, open the door. It should take at least two or three minutes.

You feel that wall of heat and moisture hit you? It's like that, but instead of eighty degrees, it's over one hundred. It gets worse. Go in the bathroom, shut the door, then wrap yourself in that blanket and sit there. Uncomfortable? Fuck yeah, it is!

After my sauna, I walked into the building and took the three flights of stairs to the upper management area. I was surprised to see Candice. She was wearing a brown suit jacket with a matching brown skirt, and the peach blouse I love. I really wished she'd have taken the jacket off. And the Big Bad Wolf was raring to go with the huffing and puffing. But I behaved myself. I was still in trouble about, what is now known as, The Langston Incident. Seriously, that's what the FBI dude said.

I cowered and lowered my head as I followed Candice to, what I assumed, was her office.

You ever punish your dog, and he follows you around, hoping you'll forgive him? That's what I was doing. Please, Candice. I'll be a good dog. Beat me, yell at me, just don't ignore me!

After the door was shut, she sat down in a soft-looking chair. It was brown, probably leather. Her desk was sort of small but full of papers. I think it was wooden, but hard to tell with all the papers on it.

The room had no windows, not even in the door. I was also guessing it was soundproof.

You ever been in a soundproof room? You can tell because the sounds, even moving a chair or footsteps, just sound different. No echo at all.

I took my seat in the hard, plastic one. The one meant to make people squirm while the boss sits all nice and comfy. You know the one. You've been in this seat before, haven't you?

I finally gained enough courage to look up at Candice. Damn, she looked hot. She was staring at the report through those super-hot looking glasses. Then she did something that almost popped the zipper on my pants.

She pulled off the glasses and bit down on one of the ear thingies. Not sure what they're called. Being part of my naughty librarian slash teacher fantasy, you would think I'd know what it's called, right? Then she smiled a devious smile that both turned me on and scared the shit out of me.

She pulled the earpiece out of her mouth, and her grin widened.

Yep, I looked it up. It's just called an earpiece. Who knew it was so simple?

"I don't blame you for fucking the dead girl," she said and raised her eyebrows.

I was absolutely speechless. Not even close to what I thought was coming. She continued, apparently realizing that I couldn't find words.

"Hell, I wanted to have sex with her," Candice said then smirked at me. "So evil, but still. Damn, that was a nice piece of ass."

Oh, shit! What in the hell did I do to get so lucky?! Is there a hidden camera in this office? Are people just waiting to jump out and say 'gotcha'? This can't be real...can it?

"Did you have to kill her like that, though?" she asked.

I found my voice.

"To be fair, she wasn't dead before I slept with her," I started. I needed to make sure this was perfectly clear. I'm a pervert. I'm horny. And I'm a young dude. But I do not fuck dead girls.

"I know," Candice said and put her glasses back on, then leaned back and crossed her arms.

"She threatened to kill you. I...I'm really sorry. I kinda lost it," I stated, full of guilt.

"That explains it," she said.

As if that reason could justify turning a pretty girl into a piñata. Melissa was still pretty, despite being evil incarnate.

"Durnst and Theodore Ressin?" I asked.

"Durnst was self-defense. But Ressin? You'll be put on probation for that one," she said and picked up the file again. "He wasn't exactly innocent. He was into some pretty serious shit. Running guns to subsidize his failing car company." She put the file down and glared at me. "I don't think that really justifies throwing him out of a building and watching his body burst into flames. Do you?"

"No, ma'am," I said, staring at the spec on the floor and wondering if it was more important than I was right now. I'm pretty sure it was.

"You need a lot more training, Clay. But, all in all, you didn't completely fuck this up. The only people who died were three very bad people. Hell. You even put a female wolf back in charge of the Langston pack. That, in itself, is pretty impressive."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said and let my eyes raise.

Again she had an expression I didn't expect. Instead of contempt or outrage, it was lustful.

"I need to tell you something, Clay," she said.

Oh, here we go. My luck couldn't be this good. Something bad was about to come out of her mouth. There's no way this woman, who looks like a wet dream, and acts like my most intimate fantasies, wants anything to do with me.

Just look at what happened. I met a gorgeous woman who was pretending to like me so she could kill me. The best sex of my life, up until this point, was a prelude to murdering me. Yeah, that's Clay Huntsvein luck. Not this. I don't get the goddess with sexy glasses that also likes women. No way. I don't get that lucky ever.

I braced myself and wiggled in my chair. I think she saw my discomfort because it made her giggle.

"I'm not human," she said.

Well, I didn't see that one coming at all. Did you guys see that coming? If so, then maybe you should be writing this shit. I didn't have a fucking clue. Didn't even catch a whiff of that one before it smacked me in the face.

"You're not? What are you?" I asked.

Again she pulled off the glasses and bit the earpiece. I still didn't think I deserved someone like her, and I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I'm exactly what you are," she said with a grin. Biting the earpiece and smiling.

Remember when I couldn't speak comprehensible English with Melissa flashing me? It's like that. Almost. Though most of my blood wasn't rushing to my 'Johnson'. Still think there must be a better word. Closet rod?

This time all my blood rushed to my brain, and I just had too many questions, too many thoughts. I couldn't even open my mouth, or they would all pour out. After about thirty seconds of silence, at least in the room. My brain is another matter. But I finally found one word my brain would let me say.

"How?" is the only word that managed to pass through my lips.

"You have extra abilities because of what you are. Our species is so messed up that I have absolutely none. My blood passes as human. I smell like a human. I get hurt like a human. But..." She pulled out a letter opener and stabbed her hand.

I freaked. Not because of the smell. Because she had just stabbed herself! I was surprised. It was so quick that I forgot to be hungry for her blood. I was more concerned that she had been hurt.

She held up her hand to me. I could see the blood running down, and my hunger started, but I controlled it. As I watched, the wound healed in front of my eyes. Just as quickly as mine did.

Again I couldn't say anything. I think my mouth was hanging open at this point. The grin on her face told me that it probably was. Then she cringed.

"You don't mind dating an older woman, do you?" she asked, then her cringe turned seductive. "If we ever do get to date."

"Nope," I said almost as soon as she was done speaking. Then the words sunk in. "How old?"

I mean, seriously? She could be Methuselah, and I'd still date her. Wait. Methuselah was a dude. That's not what I meant. I meant the old thing, not the dude thing. I don't want her to be a dude.

"I'm twelve hundred and fifty-three," she said, then leaned back. She put her glasses back on and grinned while crossing her arms.

Other shoe? Where the hell are you? Seriously? Where the hell is the other shoe? I don't get this lucky, ever. I know something has to be wrong with this woman. With so many good things, why in the hell does she want me?

She's hot. Like hotter than any woman ever. Even made hawt Melissa look like a nun. Candice is hotter than hawt.

She has hot glasses. Ok, that's part of number one, but deserves its own line.

I gotta be sure about the third before I say it.

"So?" I asked. Hoping she'd just spill without me having to ask it completely. "Women?"

She grinned and looked at her hands, which were now in her lap. Was that a little bit of embarrassment? Oh, damn! It's fucking true!

"I never said I'd be having sex with other men," she said and returned her gaze to mine.

Ok, other shoe. You got about five seconds, then I'm falling in love with this woman. One...Two...

Candice leaned forward.

"I've sort of been off guys for a hundred years or so. Well...until I met you," she said and smiled just to give it that extra push.

Three...? Four...? Other shoe? Where the hell are you?

"That doesn't bother you, does it?" she asked, though the look on her face was not inquisitive. She knew it didn't bother me. She was doing it to tease me.

Hell, no. It doesn't _bother_ me. I wholeheartedly encourage it. I won't ask to join. I won't even beg to watch. Tell me about it if you want to, but please don't stop!

Five...I'm up shit creek without a paddle. What am I saying? I don't even have a damn boat. Nothing to do now but give in. She owns me. I'm hers. If she says beg, I'm on all fours in under a second. You want me to die for you? Give me a knife.

Finally, I answer her. After about ten, maybe twenty seconds. She probably thought I'd lost my mind or damaged my brain somehow. I'm pausing to think far more than I have in my entire life. Yeah, Candice has damaged my brain. They say that seeing an angel does things to your brain. Guess this is what they meant.

"It does not bother me in the slightest," I said with a grin.

"Nothing else to add to that?" she asked knowingly.

Damn, they need a word that means more perfect than perfect. Is there such a word? If not, I'm voting that it should be 'Candice'. She was so hot she was Candice. That car is awesome, it's Candice. See? It works.

"I'm afraid if I say what's on my mind, things will get..." I cleared my throat nervously. "You'll keep being so perfect, and I won't be able to stop myself from tearing your clothes off," I said with a grin.

"And I'd probably let you," she said with a grin. "But we should wait."

"Until I'm ready for forever?" I asked.

"Forever is a really long time when you literally have forever," she said. "I'm not in a big hurry. I've waited twelve-hundred years to find you. I can wait a little while longer. You need to figure yourself out. Then we'll get our forever."

"Does that mean no more Candice dungeon torture time?" I asked with a smirk.

"Oh, no," she said adamantly with a seductive quality that drove me nuts. "That means we need _therapy_ once a week...at least."

I swallowed hard, and she laughed.

"Do you really think it's torture?" she asked.

I shook my head emphatically, which turned her smirk into a seductive smile.

"I'm not letting you fall for someone else. I want my body and my voice, on your mind always," she said. "You can sleep with other women while you find yourself, but I expect you to tell me about every one of them."

"Like...in detail?" I asked.

She grinned evilly while I squirmed.

"Yes. It will be part of your _therapy_ ," she said, and her left eyebrow raised.

"Ok," I said. What was I supposed to say? I told you. She owns me. I have no choice.

"There's one more thing. One I need to make very, very clear." She leaned forward on her elbows, her grin still driving me nuts. "You're mine. You can sleep with other women, but you belong to me. They will mean nothing. Quickly forgotten because...you will want me. I'll make sure of it."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied with a huge smile.

She stood, but I was afraid to. Afraid I'd hurt myself. It was solid, and I think you know what 'it' I'm referring to, and in a very precarious position. I'm not going to go positioning myself while Candice is watching. But what choice did I have?

I stood, and Candice made her way around the desk. She landed right in front of me while I finished standing up, then she looked down.

"Maybe you shouldn't wear tight jeans around me," then she reached down and adjusted it for me. "There. All better."

I would not call that better. Worse, is more like it. I'd be thinking about that for weeks. Then she opened the door and headed down the hall. Remember how I was walking with my head down before? Well, I didn't even look around.

Apparently, there were many offices like Candice's. They lined the halls. I wondered if they were all filled with handlers as well. Then after about ten doors, she stopped at one, and an older looking man was inside. His face lit up when he saw me.

He looked like he was thirty or so. His hair and beard were dark brown. He had dark brown eyes to match and a familiar looking face, though I was sure I'd never met him.

"This is Geraldo," Candice said. She said the name with a Spanish accent, which, coupled with the man's looks, told me he was Mexican.

"Clayton. I'm so happy to finally get to meet you," he said and held out his hand. He practically dashed around his desk. When I didn't move my hand fast enough, he grabbed it and pulled it up. He shook mine with both of his hands while I just stared and wondered.

"Are you...?" I asked. I now knew where I recognized his face.

"Yes, Clayton. I'm your grandfather. You're mother, Emily, and I had a disagreement about this place. I'm sure she told you," he said regretfully.

Candice smiled then walked out to give us space. She made sure to brush her hand across my shoulder as she left. She didn't want me to think she'd forgotten about Candice therapy. I was pretty sure I had an appointment coming up soon.

"Mom didn't say anything. She refused to speak about you," I said.

He went back to his seat with a concerned look on his face then motioned for me to take the uncomfortable interrogation chair. I think all offices have these. It's like mandatory or something.

After I sat, he explained.

"Emily and your father didn't approve of what we do here," he started.

"Why?" I asked.

This seemed like an ok place. Sure, we kill people. I've killed three in the last week. I guess that could be considered unsavory by some. But it was for the greater good. Well, not Theodore Ressin. That was a mistake. And Melissa? That was an accident. But she did deserve it...sort of.

"She thought our intentions were well placed, but we had humans working here then. They...confused things," he said cryptically.

"Confused?"

I asked. I wanted clarity. I had no knowledge of this man until ten seconds ago. And I wanted to know anything I could about my mother and her family.

"We try to stay out of human business. We police our own here. The humans working here wanted us to get involved in human cases. Do things the FBI, CIA, and Homeland Security were having a hard time with. Human terrorists. Serial killers. Things like that. Your mother was very important around here. She objected. They fired her. She never forgave them...and never forgave me for staying."

"But, sadly, after her death, we saw what she saw. We tried to stop working with the humans, but they ended up locking us up as traitors. That was when we found a very persuasive, very influential individual." He grinned.

Please let it be Candice. Please let it be Candice!

"Within a year, Candice had this place running like it should have been run the whole time. We are The Office for Independent Supernaturals, after all. We police supernaturals, and that's all we police." He sat back and waited for my questions. But I only really had one right now.

I'm not the sharpest tack. You know that by now, right? I'm not horrible, but some things just fly right over me.

"Candice is the boss?" I asked. He nodded. "Of everything?" He nodded again.

Oh, shit. I'm not sort of almost dating my handler. I'm kind of almost involved with the boss of this whole organization. Teacher's pet?

"And you all know what I am?" I asked. This one also popped in after the Candice revelation.

He chuckled.

"We've been watching you since you pulled yourself out of that forest in Canada." He leaned forward. "And by we, I mean her. She tells us what we need to know. But she also makes sure we stay out of your way."

Oh, boy! This was huge! Like majorly huge!

All of this. And I mean all of it. Candice pretending not to know what I was. Candice acting like she was annoyed by me. All of it was a ploy...a test. A way for her to come into my life in a way that wouldn't seem suspicious. I fell for it hook line and sinker.

And if you think I was upset, you haven't been paying attention at all.

She likes me! She really likes me!

# Chapter 20

So. You probably thought that was the end of my story. But wait...there's more!

I had to spend the next week training. If you could call it training. I was on probation, remember? I was 'trained' in how to carry shit around and be a lackey for the people who were actually training. It sucked, but I guess I did deserve it for killing an innocent vamp. Even if he was a scumbag.

Once again, I didn't see Candice. I heard she was on some super-secret mission thingy that I obviously didn't have clearance for. I'd do my penance like a good dog. The reward was so worth the wait.

At the end of the first week, I got my paycheck. It was small. I guess I shouldn't complain too much. Free blood, free pig organs, free room and board. The only thing I had to spend my money on was human food and entertainment.

No! I don't mean hookers! I'm not about to piss off Candice with something so stupid. Not when I'm so close to having her...or rather, her having me.

She said I could have sex with other women, she did not say I could go hire hookers. In fact, her smug attitude when I told her about one hooker, convinced me that I should never do that again. The price for perfection is high, but I'll pay.

Anyway. The week was over, so I figured I'd go spend my measly paycheck on one of my favorite human foods. Oh, come on. You know what it is. No? It's pizza! Duh! Didn't see that one coming?

There is nothing that can compare to a pepperoni pizza. Steak is nice, that Cuban food Candice likes is pretty good too, but it's not a pizza. So, I was sitting down to enjoy a full pizza, all to myself. What? Football players eat more than one of these things in a sitting. I'm pretty good sized. I need the energy.

As I was saying, I was just about to dig into my pizza. I had just picked up my first slice when the second most beautiful woman I've ever seen walked in the door.

This was a small mom and pop store, it was hard not to notice her. The three other guys in there were nearly drooling as much as I was. Hell, I even think their girlfriends were hot for this woman. Either that or jealous. I choose to believe the hot thing.

The way she was dressed was a little strange. A pair of grey cloth, skin-tight, pants. Almost like sweat pants, only thinner. A shirt that looked like a sheet wrapped around her chest with the overlap in the perfect place, one over each breast, also in grey but a shade darker. It left quite a lot of skin showing, her abdomen was the main focus for my eyes.

She had no jewelry on, believe me, she didn't need any. And three-inch stiletto heels. Not the sort of thing you saw in downtown....oh, you almost got me there. Still not telling you where in Iowa I am. Thought you'd be tricky, didn't ya? Candice would kill me if I told you where we were. Or worse, she'd ignore me.

Ok, on to what the beautiful woman looked like. Though the outfit she wore left little to the imagination, it was very tasteful. Maybe that's just me. Anyway. She looked very familiar in the face. She had sharper features than Candice and lighter skin, Middle East, maybe? Her features didn't quite look Latino, though her skin color was close. Then...as I was mesmerized by the picturesque woman, the slice in my hand nearly losing all its toppings, she took one look at me and smiled. Next, she started walking over to me, still fucking smiling.

And I'm thinking either I'm the luckiest man alive, or she's another Melissa.

This woman, who sat down across from me and took a slice, was almost as good looking as Candice. And the way she bit into the pizza had me almost busting at the zipper again. I made a mental note to buy Candice a fucking pizza when she got back. Oh yeah, and pants that were looser in the crotch. Candice was right about that too. My pants are a little too tight a little too often.

"Do I know you?" I asked. I still couldn't shake the feeling that I knew her. She was...oh...shit!

"Nareena," she said after taking a bite, then stuck out her hand and said exactly what I had just put together in my head. "I believe you know my daughter, Candice."

Holy shit! Had I just been having fantasies about my future wife's mother? What? I couldn't help it. If you could see this woman. Damn!

"Hello, Nareena," I said, not sure I was pronouncing the name correctly. I suppose it had something to do with the fact that I was trying desperately to quit thinking about kissing this woman...among other things.

"Call me Nara. My full name doesn't exactly roll off the tongue," she said with a laugh that almost made me dizzy. That accent. Where in the hell was it from? Not quite Russian, but close. Romania? Wouldn't that be ironic for a vamp? A vamp...yes, another fact just slapped me in the face.

"Are you...?" I asked, not quite sure who was listening.

"Not quite as stupid as I took you for. Good," she said, then took another bite of her pizza. And, you guessed it, she had that same 'oral orgasm' face as Candice.

What the hell was up with that? Right then and there, I prayed that Candice didn't have a sister or I'd be dead from a heart attack at the first family reunion. I'd at least be stupid from the lack of blood to my brain. You know...because it would be somewhere else all day.

"What...?" I started to ask, but she just vanished. Not kidding. One second she was there, the next she was gone.

I stood and looked around, then she appeared beside me with a piece of paper in one of her hands.

"What the...?" I started again, but she interrupted me.

"Follow me," she instructed, and I followed.

I mean, it's me. She's nearly as gorgeous as her daughter. I'm a weak man. Give me a break. I will never do anything with her, but I couldn't stop my feet from following her.

Nara led me out a back door that I didn't even realize the pizza place had, then into the alley behind it.

"This conversation needs to be had without the prying eyes of humans," she said and handed me the piece of paper.

I think my heart stopped as I saw the breathtaking profile of Candice with a bullseye over her face. The words below her picture didn't help either. 'Dead or alive, $20,000,000'.

"What the fuck is this?!" I shouted and could feel the change coming. The alley turned pink.

"I was hired to kill Candice," she said then held up her hands as my shirt ripped. I could feel my fangs come out, and my eyes changed. The rest of my monster was soon to follow.

I vaguely recall the words she said, but somehow Nara's voice had the same effect on my monster as Candice's. I shifted back, shirt torn to shit, and listened.

"I'm not going to kill her. I took the job because I needed to stop it. They had no idea that I was her mother," she said, still holding her hands up.

"Wait a minute," I said, then my brain started working. Pretty women make me stupid. I'll admit it. "You're a vamp, and you just ate pizza...in the sunlight?" I boggled at the smirk then another thought hit me. "You don't even look like a vamp."

"Believe me, I'm a vamp," she said, then her fangs descended, and her eyes changed. "I'm just very, very old. A lot of the newer vamps don't understand how to take care of their bodies. Either that or they just don't care. Some think the pale, shriveled look is 'cool'."

"What do you mean?" I asked, still not quite understanding.

"If a vamp eats human food, their bodies are kept healthy. Blood will keep us alive, but it does nothing for muscles and skin." Then she winked at me, just like Candice.

Well, fuck! This is more like my luck. Even if this woman did want me, I couldn't want her. I can't even dream about her. The ick factor was huge. Why in the hell did Candice's mom have to look so damn good? The answer? To torture me. That's a good one, big guy. I'm busting up over here. What's next? Let me guess. Candice has a twin sister? Wouldn't that just be the best joke ever?

End up in bed with the woman of my dreams and...guess what? It's not really her.

"And you can vanish?" I asked, hoping I wasn't just being stupid.

"I told you. I'm very, very old. Your eyes aren't trained enough to see me move...yet," she said and gave me another, pulse-pounding, cringe-worthy, wink.

Yep, I've been a bad dog, and the big guy is punishing me. That's the only explanation. At least I haven't heard mention of a sister yet. Perhaps the big guy is waiting to see how bad I am before springing the gorgeous sister on me.

"Yet?" I asked.

"You are my daughter's best chance," she said, but I was the one interrupting this time.

I held out my hands to her, palms up, and raised both eyebrows. I started to object, but my actions produced a laugh I really wish she'd held in. This was almost too cruel. How can a woman's laugh be that sexy?

"I'm very fast and very strong, but you...," she said with another seductive smirk.

"What about me?" I asked, trying to quit thinking about Candice's mother like that. It wasn't working!

"You have potential." Then, thank all that is holy, she looked concerned. "I can't be everywhere, and there are vamps just as old as I am. Some older. I need help."

Not that I'm happy that she looked upset. I'm happy she was done giving me that look. You know the one. Like she was undressing me with her eyes. Like she was picturing her hands running across my chest, down my stomach...ok, that's enough of that. Quit that, fantasy Nara. That's quite enough. You can't have me, fantasy Nara. I belong to Candice. Candice said I could sleep with other women, I'm pretty sure that did not include her mother.

"Just tell me what I need to do," I replied. What else could I say? Candice was in danger. I'd be the first one in line to take a bullet for her.

"Good," she said, then walked up to me and put her finger under my chin. Her perfectly polished fingernail felt very sharp.

I think this was to keep my eyes from wandering. Believe me, they wanted to look at her stunning body, I just wouldn't let them. I was bound and determined to look at anything but her stellar body. The garbage pails in this alley were of particular interest to me. I think I can still describe them to this day.

Would you like me to tell you what all six of them looked like? No? Ok, but if you change your mind, just let me know.

As soon as she had the full attention of my eyes, she gave me a strange smile.

"You haven't hit on me once, and you keep looking away. You really love her, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said and smiled, despite trying not to.

"Good. I'll be in touch. You need a lot of training." She looked me over once more from head to toe. Her eyes lingering a little too much if you ask me. Then she vanished again.

Ominous enough for you?

# Epilogue

Oh, ho! You thought I was going to take it easy on you for the Epilogue? Think again.

So, I'm betting two or three of you made it all the way here. Well, that makes me an author now. As long as one person makes it to the end, I'm a real author. And no, Candice, you don't count.

Candice told me to write this.

Said it was easier than having me sit in front of her and explain everything. Much less embarrassing than giving my soon-to-be master-wife all the details of my every elicit thought. Don't you agree?

So, the next book?

If you want to read the rest of my life story, you will need to leave me reviews. Seriously. I have much more to tell, but only if you want me to. I'm not spilling my guts and having no one read it. This shit takes a lot of time.

If I only expected Candice to read this, I might leave out some of the jokes. Come on. Some of them were funny. Just a little? I also wouldn't need to worry about my spelling and grammar. Nor would I have to pull my punches while explaining the sex stuff.

So. The question is, what's a fair amount? Five or so? Fine, five. And they can't be sucky. If I can get five people to say they liked my story. That's at least three stars out of five. I'll share another one. Maybe more than one. Depending on how many people liked this one.

You know I have a job, and this writing stuff is time-consuming. I gave you this one for free. The rest? Just depends.

I'm not going to charge an arm and a leg. I'm not a great writer, and I do have an annoying tendency to 'Narrate' my own story. As well as my strange comments, sidebars, and lame jokes.

And before you try anything funny, Candice. You can't go leaving me five reviews. That's cheating. I'll know if it's you, Candice. There is no way another person would call my writing brilliant or something. I'll know it's you.

The rest of you understand?

Anyway. I have many more stories to tell. And much more Candice Therapy in store for you. I just need the people who like this stuff to say so. All five of you. And believe me, my second session of Candice Therapy was something to remember, but the third? Holy shit! You will not believe how far she took that one.

One more thing. No, the guy on the cover is not me.

I'm a spy now, remember? I can't go having my likeness plastered all over the internet. I'll probably have to do undercover work or something. As soon as I'm off probation, that is.

The cover model guy does sort of look like me, but not enough that you could pick me out of a crowd. And he is a little small. I'm a big guy, remember? But we needed someone who looked enough like me to get the idea across, and this guy was it. The pose is totally me though. If you took a picture of me, I'd flip you off with the same look on my face.

Ok, now time for the guy who actually wrote this to say some stuff.

Like he could make this shit up. *Wink*

To be continued...?

\----

Please keep in mind that Clay Huntsvein is unlike any of my other works. I wrote this one because it made me laugh to write like this. You will not find his stale humor, nor his commentary in any of my other works. But if you like supernatural thrillers or paranormal romances, some of my other books might interest you.

If you enjoy my work, please leave me a review, especially if you want to read Clay Huntsvein Volume II. He wasn't kidding about the five good reviews.

Indie authors, like myself, need reviews to keep doing what we do. I appreciate the feedback and enjoy hearing from my readers, whether it be compliments, suggestions, or criticisms.

Want to know when my new books are coming out? Sign up for my mailing list to receive a head's up when my books will go live.

I'm looking for a few reviewers.

Interested in receiving free books for an honest review with no commitment? You will receive copies of my new books for free but only review the ones you want to review. If this sounds like something you would be interested in, sign up for my mailing list and enter **REVIEW** as your name.

You can also check me out on Facebook at <https://www.facebook.com/StevenSterupJrAuthor/> or on my website at www.StevenSterupJr.com.
MOUS Investigations Series

Cassy Mousman and Zach Nielson each grew up with their adoptive parents, knowing nothing about each other nor why, as adults, they are inexplicably linked. The murder of Cassy's father causes her to trick Zach into becoming her unwitting partner in her search to find out what they really are. She knows they are not human, but nothing in her father's books can explain her unusual abilities nor why countless orphans were deposited on human doorsteps the same day she was.

Perhaps with Zach's help, she can finally discover what they really are and why everything seems to revolve around the unassuming accountant, Zach. In the meantime, all she can do is help the supernaturals like her father had and piece together the clues to this puzzle.

Case of the Docile Dhampir Book 1

The Ghoul from Galveston Book 2

Deceptive Dragons and Duplicitous Sisters Book 3

A Wendigo in Wisconsin Book 4

Ogres in Oakland, Oh My! Book 5
The 21st Curse Collection

The 21st Curse is not a standard series, but rather a collection of stories about werewolves and witches.

The lives of witches and werewolves are entwined in an age old curse. The witches need the werewolves to protect them and the werewolves need witches to salvage their sanity.

A book handed down for generations spells out the terms of their contract in a way that none with the curse can deny.

At the twenty-first hour on the twenty-first day of the twenty-first year, a child will become a beast. Such is the legend that is handed down, mother to son and father to daughter. On that fateful day, a choice must be made. One of consequence and importance. For on that day, a child who has transformed must choose between the evil of the curse and the responsibility of protecting their chosen. For no creature is as feared as the werewolf. A creature without conscience nor fear. It will feed on whoever is unlucky enough to cross its path or protect its charge until it ceases to draw breath.

The 21st Curse Book 1
Asuune Series

Angels and vampires are real. In the world of the Asuune, half angel and half human, there is a secret war that has been going on for as long as man has walked the earth. Unbeknownst to Kathrine, her father is one of the war's soldiers, but what is even more surprising is that she is the war's only hope. Follow the life of Kathrine Albet and her father, Mark, as they fight the evil of fallen angels and vampires to save humanity. It would all be much easier if each Asuune didn't have one true love they couldn't ignore. Fighting the forces of evil may be hard, but resisting your true love is all but impossible.

Curse of the Asuune Book 1

Deception of the Asuune Book 2 (Conclusion)
Demonic Temptations

Samantha Lujuria is a therapist who specializes in disorders she calls Demonic Temptations. The desires that everyone harbors that are so distasteful or embarrassing that we can't even admit them to ourselves. Follow her as she tries to use her expertise to help half-demon offspring. Because for a demon, love is the biggest taboo of them all.

Set in the world of the Asuune several years after the events of Deception of the Asuune. Join Samantha as she gets help from many of your favorite characters from the Asuune series in her quest to keep half-demon offspring from destroying their lives as well as the people around them.

Demonic Temptations - Incubus Tormented Book 1
Lascaria Series

In the world of Lascaria, the evil king Lascar rules his kingdom through fear and intimidation. His magic is without equal. The worst part is that he grows stronger every year. No one can stand up to a man that is over 1,000 years old until his grandson Dhrel is born. Explore the world of Lascaria alongside Dhrel as he works to become the man everyone thinks he is.

Lascaria - Evil Reborn Book 1

Lascaria – Sins of the Ancestors Book 2

Lascaria – The Prisoner Queen Book 3

Lascaria – The Legend of Lascar Book 4

Lascaria – The Shadow King Book 5 (Conclusion)
Morven's Legacy

Evil demons are trying to make their way into the world, and only the descendants of Morven have a chance at stopping them.

Christopher Morven is over three hundred years old and tired of fighting to keep the demons at bay. The magic that kept him alive has taken its toll, but finally, after all these years, he sees hope in his two granddaughters. They aren't ready, but they are very powerful. If anyone can bring this to an end, it will be them. They can succeed where he has failed, but they will need help.

The Fire Maiden's Desire

To Seduce a Sorceress
Raven

Fawn, although most people know her by her code name Raven, is one of the best assassins in the world. When she takes on a very lucrative job to kidnap, then kill the prince, she realizes that the bumbling fool isn't the cruel womanizer she's been led to believe. She thought assassins were deceptive, nobles and Royals are worse. Can she find her way through this web of lies before it is too late? Despite his roguish charm and possible innocence, she has a job to do, and Raven always kills her mark.

Raven's Embrace Book 1

Raven's Gamble Book 2 (Conclusion)
The Order of Human Purity

The books in this category are not intended as a series. They are grouped together because they all happen within the same universe where The Order of Human Purity (known simply as 'The Order') is trying to rid the world of monsters.

They are written with the intention of making them similar but completely separate stories. There are no cliffhangers or continuations. The only things these books have in common are the world they take place in, The Order and the mischievous, immortal wraith Miraven who is neither good nor evil. She is simply bored of her immortal life and to spice things up she likes to toy with the lives of others, or so she would have everyone believe.

Kiss of the Lamia Book 1

Werewolf Bane Book 2

The Alpha Predator

When Adam Lance witnesses the attempted murder of a man, he becomes the only known witness to a serial killer who has gone unchecked for nearly five years. Special Detective Cheryl Torren soon realizes that Adam might be the one person who can help her catch the killer. With Adam's help, Cheryl finds out that the person they are hunting isn't a serial killer after all. The killer is a vigilante who only targets predators and soon gains the nickname 'The Alpha Predator'. Despite Adam's reluctance to catch this killer, it's still their job, and with his help, Cheryl might finally put an end to the killing spree, that is, if the killer doesn't find them first.

Auctor – Vengeful Intent

Disclaimer: This book contains a considerable amount of violence and dark emotions.

When Kaya Nichols' step-sister turns up dead, the apparent victim of a mugging, Kaya leaves behind her job as a foreign journalist to find out what really happened to her step-sister. At least that is the job everyone thinks she has. In reality, she is a fixer for a variety of powerful European mobs.

The men who killed her step-sister, Trish, think they've handled the problem until Kaya arrives back in the United States for her sister's funeral. Kaya isn't willing to let a single man responsible for her step-sister's death escape justice, even if it kills her in the process. She is a woman who has lost everything, so nothing matters other than revenge.

Explore the nightmare that has become Kaya's life as she tries to work through her anger and grief. And, as if, Trish's death wasn't enough. The man who ruined her life, her step-sister's husband, is a constant reminder of what she has lost and the secret she dares not tell anyone.

Immortal Consequences

When Kal Johnson, an immortal gargoyle, is attacked by an ancient vampire and framed for the murder of a human, his quiet life is thrown into chaos. But the universe, with its perverse sense of humor, has decided that now would be the perfect time for the punch line. Kal's human wife, Brianna, has done the impossible. She is the first human in history to become pregnant with a gargoyle's child.

This vampire is stronger and more cunning than any he has fought. The wife he adores and the child he never hoped for, give Kal something he has never had before, a weakness. Can Kal stop this ancient vampire before it takes everyone he loves? Taking his wife and child might accomplish what no vampire has ever been able to do. It might be enough to defeat the immortal Kal.
