Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 107: Chapter 107

“Is she alright?” Gwen did not recognize the man’s voice.
“She looks like she’s coming around,” came a soft reply, maybe from Tracey.
“What the fuck did you do, asshole? I told you to stay away. She’s human, for fuck’s sake!” Derrick’s angry voice reached her ears.
“It’s not my fault, man. Some guy grabbed her, a Shifter dick, at the bar, and I lost it. Needed to change,” Weylin murmured, his voice sounding all gritty and sexy.
“Guys, shh!” Lucy whisper-screamed and Gwen wanted to smile.
Instead, she closed her eyes tight.
“What happened?” she asked, and her mouth felt like she had just eaten a wad of cotton.
Her memories came back slowly, replaying in her mind. Earlier, Gwen had been going through the list of signature cocktails, practicing them for tonight. It was her first time handling the back bar alone, and she’d been so excited.
Saturday nights were reportedly jampacked, and she had been looking forward to the tips. She ran her hands over her body. She had on ripped jeans and a tee, so she was already in uniform. That was right. She’d been working the back bar, and it was going well.
Gwen blinked her eyes open, slowly at first, and warm light filled her vision. Weylin had come to the back, was helping her restock. She had a customer. He wanted shots. He got a little mean, then Weylin jumped over the bar and –what next?
“She’s waking up. Hey, Gwen. How are you feeling?” a petite blonde—Lucy—asked, helping Gwen to a sitting position.
Her mind was hazy. She turned and looked at the two huge men in the room. One she recognized as her new boss, Derrick Rand. The other was him. Weylin Scott. The redheaded hottie who’d been filling her dreams with naughty visions and causing several sleepless nights over the past week.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his rippling muscles were a huge distraction to her addled brain. Wowza. He had a bunch of sexy tribal tattoos crisscrossing his body that Gwen hadn’t known about. Why would she? Not like she had that kind of relationship with him—or anyone since, well, ever.
“Ouch, my head,” she mumbled as she pressed her feet firmly to the floor.
“Here, drink this,” Lucy said, handing her a glass of ice cold cola.
“Thank you. Mm, that’s sweet,” she murmured.
“I figured the sugar and caffeine would help,” Lucy, who was very pregnant, replied and shrugged.
“Oh, the bar, I should get back to work⁠—”
“Honey, the bar is all closed. Everyone is home. Now you just take as long as you need,” Lucy murmured.
The bar was closed? Crap. That must mean it was after three. Gwen closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. They were in Derrick’s office again, and she was on the big couch he kept there. Still, she was starting to feel a little like a pinned butterfly.
“Do you all mind not staring?” she asked.
“Sorry,” Lucy whispered, grinning at her for some reason.
“Gwendolyn, what do you remember about what happened?” Derrick asked.
“Um, I don’t know. I was at the back bar. Tending it like Sheila taught me and keeping the crowd happy. Mostly beer tonight, but some shots too. Oh, Weylin helped restock the cooler. Then I think I, um, had a customer and I disagreed with him about something, maybe?” she said, searching his green eyes for clues.
She had only ever seen Weylin Scott looking cocky or earnest, but right then, he appeared concerned and a little freaked out. What the heck had happened?
“He wanted you to take a shot,” Weylin inserted carefully.
“That’s right. Tequila. Um, I don’t drink hard liquor straight,” she explained to Derrick. “It makes me sick. Especially, shots. I’m sorry, I know it is customary for bartenders to drink sometimes with customers⁠—”
“That’s alright, Gwen. You never have to drink if you don’t want to,” Derrick replied. “What else do you recall, if anything?” he pressed.
Lucy rose from her seated position and eyed her man strangely. What the heck was going on here? Gwendolyn blinked, shaking her head to clear it. Oh boy, that was a mistake! She pressed her fingers to her temples.
“Ouch! Is this a bump?” she mumbled and pressed gently around the tender area.
“Fuck, Gwen. I am so sorry. You hit your head when you fell, and I wasn’t fast enough,” Weylin confessed, looking worried and sick as he gripped the back of his neck with one hand.
“I fainted?”
“Shut up, Weylin,” Derrick growled, and for some reason, Gwen really did not like that at all.
“Hey, I don’t mean to be out of line, but what is your problem, Derrick? Weylin just apologized for something that doesn’t seem to be his fault, like at all. That customer grabbed my wrist, ouch, look, he even left a bruise! Weylin got me out of a tight situation, so why don’t you give him a break?” she said, staring at the big man until it got uncomfortable.
Derrick’s chest was rumbling, and she did not know why, but Gwen dropped her gaze. Weylin had stood up at this point, body tense as he moved between Gwen and Derrick. What the heck was going on?
“It’s okay, Gwendolyn. He’s just doing his job,” Weylin murmured, tilting his head oddly and avoiding Derrick’s glare.
What the heck?
“Wait,” she said, turning back to Weylin. “I don’t remember tripping. How did I fall? What happened?”
“Gwen, maybe you should take the night off—” Derrick said, but Lucy clamped her hand over his mouth.
“Baby, I have a craving for a cheesesteak. Take me to Tony’s, would you?” she asked, rubbing her protruding belly and pouting at her man.
Gwendolyn felt sort of like a voyeur, watching the obvious chemistry between them. Even with her belly swollen with his baby, Derrick seemed to find her irresistible. Wasn’t that something?
“Lucy, I am in the middle of something here,” Derrick began in a growly voice that sorta scared Gwendolyn.
Lucy didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the woman swayed closer to him. Weird. But it must be nice, Gwen mused.
Oh sure, Gwen talked a good game about being fine alone. After one lousy little heartbreak, she’d been hiding behind her promise to save herself for marriage. But that imaginary future husband was just that—imaginary.
Truth was, Gwendolyn never planned on finding a guy who could measure up to her book boyfriends. How could she? Folks thought Walt Disney was responsible for unhealthy expectations of what true love was supposed to be like, but she knew better.
That man had nothing on the romance writers of the world, especially the indies. There was nothing Gwen liked more than to find a brand new favorite author pioneer in the indie publishing world.
“Fine. I will take myself,” Lucy growled, slapping her hands against the mountainous man’s chest, and pushing him back.
He moved, too. Though Gwen was certain that was only because he wanted to. No way could a tiny thing like Lucy move that giant of hers. Lucy tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at Derrick before grabbing the keys off his desk.
With a sharp nod, she waved goodbye to Gwen with a wink, then stomped out of the office, big booty swaying as she went.
Uh oh.
“What? Dammit. No! Wait! Weylin, fix this!” Derrick snapped before running after Lucy. “Not the Harley, Kitten, come on. We’ll take the truck! It’s better for the cubs!”
“Did he say cubs?” she turned her head and asked Weylin.
“Um, let’s talk about what happened for a minute, then we will get into that,” Weylin said, standing up.
He started rummaging through the cabinet behind Derrick’s desk and pulled out a clean, black t-shirt with the bar’s logo on it. Gwendolyn frowned at the loss of all those tattooed muscles, but she supposed it was for the better. After all, her adult life had been all about avoiding the kind of temptation a man like him presented.
“Look, I owe you an apology,” he began, turning to face her as he pulled the shirt over his head.
Gwen gulped down a whimper as she faced his pure masculine perfection. Yeah, he had some scars on his pale skin, but they did nothing to deter from his male beauty. His tattoos were many and so intricate, the detail was just beyond anything she had ever seen. He was a living work of art, and Gwen’s heart fluttered in response to that realization.
“Why do you owe me an apology?” she asked.
“I seem to put my foot in my mouth whenever I try with you. I keep giving you the wrong impression, Gwendolyn.”
“How? When? I mean, we hardly know each other,” she murmured, but even saying that felt wrong.
Ever since she wandered into Serious Moonlight, something about the place, the people, just seemed to call to her. Gwendolyn’s world wasn’t so big, she wasn’t so lonely when she was with them. This strange group of beautiful people had made her feel like she belonged to something, even as dumb as that sounded, she realized she was right.
“Since day one, I’ve been keeping secrets.”
“Secrets? Why?”
“All I wanted was to know you better, but you told me to stay away, and I just couldn’t, beautiful⁠—”
“Stop,” she said, angry now that he was trying to play her. “You don’t have to say things like that to me. Sheila is beautiful. Big as she is with her baby, Lucy is beautiful. Not me. At the most, I’m cute. It’s fine though, I am happy being cute, but what does that have to do with why I woke up in here?” she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Maybe to some people you are cute, but I called you beautiful because you are to me, dammit,” he growled, stepping forward and invading her space.
Eyes wide, she backed up instinctively. He was just so big. So much man. She could feel heat rolling off his body, warming her in the cramped office. Gwen gasped as her back met with the wall, but he’d already put his hands there, cushioning her from it.
“You scared the crap out of me, woman, fainting like that. Fuck, I’ve never been that scared,” he mumbled.
“Sorry,” she murmured, reaching out with shaky hands to touch him.
She was acting on instinct, and it was scary. She’d never touched a man like that, with long, slow strokes down his chest. She wanted to calm him, soothe him, but had no idea if it was right.
He sucked in a breath, then big, tall, too handsome Weylin just shuddered. He closed his fiery emerald eyes, giving her a reprieve from their intensity, and leaned into her touch.
Dammit if she didn’t miss the intensity of his stare almost immediately. Honestly, she loved being caught up in the emerald fire of his gaze. Then he pressed his forehead to hers in a gesture that felt like it meant something bigger than what it was, and her insides just melted.
What was happening? She should stop this, right? Pushing him away or slapping his face for presuming to touch her without permission, but her hands seemed frozen in place on his body, and wild horses couldn’t pull her away.
There is something different about this one. Wait and see. Give him a chance.
Gwen didn’t know what to do, or how to quiet the voice in her head she attributed to the naughty angel on her shoulder. So, she let go of all feigned control, and just let it happen.
Yeah, she had very little experience with men, and whatever she might have promised herself, it looked like her body had other ideas. Desires and needs were flaring to life. Secret hidden ones she hardly ever expected to feel at all.
It was scary and wonderful, and for once in her life, she felt like the heroine in one of those romance novels she loved. Weylin smelled so good. That woodsy scent she’d started associating with him alone seemed brighter now, stronger with him so close.
Weylin’s eyes seemed to glow in the dimly lit room, and for one moment, she swore she saw swirls of something else deep within the emerald depths. Like there was another consciousness present in his gaze, and this one watched her, too. The idea should have frightened her, but all it did was kindle her desire.
Gwendolyn shivered, her breasts flattened against his chest as he leaned down. She saw something outside. Just before she fainted. It was right there in her memory. Something impossible. Scary even.
Fur. Fangs. Claws.
The sounds of bones cracking and tendons snapping ringing in her ears.
Impossible.
It had to be a trick of the mind. Gwen’s breath caught as she tried to force the memory, but Weylin was leaning in closer, so much closer. His body felt good against hers. He was hot, hard, and heavy. She was hypnotized, confounded, and desperate for whatever came next.
Please, oh please, let there be more.
“Everyone keeps telling me to wait, to give you time. But I don’t think I can wait another minute,” he murmured in a voice so low she hardly heard him.
“For what?” she whispered her reply, holding her breath as anticipation reached a crescendo.
“This.”
Then he was kissing her, and Gwen could not think at all. Well, nothing except, oooh, was he good at this. So good. So much better than that first time.
“Gwen,” he moaned her name, angling her head as he deepened the kiss. “Christ, you're sweet.”
Lust glazed eyes blinked down at her, and she knew her own stare must have looked just as dreamy. Weylin smiled that slow panty-melting grin of his before capturing her mouth again. His tongue delved between her lips, and she moaned her response.
Hot boy. Sexy boy. Turning her head. Making her feel.
He ground his hips into hers and she felt him there, in that place she had neglected so long. Yearning built and built and built until she was moving with him.
He’s making a fool of you. Using you. That is what he’s doing—No! Shhh!
Gwen shushed that nasty little voice in her head and held on to the moment. To Weylin. To the man right in front of her. His eyes opened, the green was so bright they were neon and a shiver raced up her spine. He could see straight into her soul with those eyes. And he was, wasn’t he? Seeing all her secret needs and wants. All her hidden desires and fantasies.
Suddenly, her memory came plowing back into her brain like thunder and with her two hands on his chest, Gwendolyn pushed, forcing Weylin away from her. Fuck. She missed his heat, his scent, his strength. But no. This could not be. Horror, confusion, and dread filled her.
“What is it? Did I hurt you?” he asked, baffled.
In her mind’s eye, she saw the memory she’d tried to block out. Weylin naked, stopped over by the edge of the forest. His body bent, face contorted with pain as he broke apart.
Skin tore, bones snapped, and fur sprouted where it shouldn’t be possible. His body shifted and changed from the most handsome man she had ever seen, the gentle giant she had grown to care about, and lust for, to something out of a nightmare or a dream.
Weylin Scott was no ordinary man. Gwendolyn’s breath caught in her throat as she raised her finger, pointing it at him. Then she shouted.
“WEREWOLF!”