Werewolves of New York: Eli (Werewolves of... Book 2) Page 4

  “What?” Nathaniel leaned forward.

  Eli rubbed his head with both hands and looked out from between his arms. “You realize this is going to be more fuel for Dontae.”

  “Fuck.”

  Eli dropped his hands and hung his head. “I am so sick of hearing his bitterness every time something concerning a female comes around. You know what I bet?”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, the more I think on it, the more sure I am. Some woman is going to turn him upside down. The strongest fall the hardest.”

  “You think so, huh.” Nathaniel chuckled, not a believer.

  “Yep.” Eli brought his glass to his lips and murmured against it, “And if I’m right? I’m gonna rub his face in it until he dies.”

  Chapter Nine

  Dontae ran a hand through his blonde hair as he kicked off his boots, laying his white-socked feet on the coffee table and taking a sip from his freshly poured scotch. “What the fuck? Can’t you clean up after yourself?” He kicked the newspaper and food wrappers to give his feet more room. Both he and Darik were in jeans, Darik’s blue and Dontae’s black.

  Darik walked over with his drink, his long limbs stretching out as he took the empty leather chair. “What is this, white t-shirt night? Aren’t we cute?” He motioned around and all the wolves looked down. Only Eli still had on a button-up.

  “Well fuck me if I’m gonna be left out,” he muttered and undid his buttons to toss the dress shirt onto his suit jacket, leaving only his white-t on that he’d had underneath. Nathaniel and Darik whooped like they’d just seen a strip show with Eli holding out his arms with triumph. Dontae shook his head as though the three were embarrassing to his elegance, but his hazel eyes shone brightly with humor.

  Comfortable in the space and company, Nathaniel bent a knee and started picking at his sweatpants. Eli could see he didn’t want to jump right into what had been decided. Neither wolf had discussed where the pack meetings would be held now. The change had been too sudden for them both to want go deeper into how much it would impact them all. “So, what happened today?” The question was directed at him.

  Eli stretched his shoulders to release the immediate tension that rushed back to him. Looking around, he asked the room, “When did we start helping people?”

  Darik’s blue eyes narrowed in concentration and he scratched his beard with both hands, jutting his jaw out. “Um…It was pretty soon after we got here.”

  “It was the pedophile.” Dontae’s voice was grave.

  All three winced as the memory flew before them. “Oh, yeah.” “That was it.” “I guess I wanted to forget about that guy.”

  Eli asked, “I think it was you Dontae, wasn’t it, who found him?”

  Dontae nodded, hazel eyes clouded with old anger. “I smelled children on him. Too many children.”

  The room went silent as all the horrible details came crashing through their minds, stories they promised they’d never think of again. But Eli had asked the question, and this was the answer.

  “I hope he rots in jail,” Darik said, taking a drink from his elegant glass.

  “He’s dead,” Dontae said with justice sparking his eyes. “I kept tabs for awhile and that’s how I heard. They don’t like pedophiles in prison. All the inmates have kids so…it wasn’t long.”

  “Good. I’m glad he’s dead,” Nathaniel muttered.

  Darik agreed. “Me too.”

  “That makes four of us,” Eli said, his eyes hard. He glanced to Dontae. “But it was also you who thought we should do what we do now, wasn’t it? I’m trying to remember.”

  Darik clarified, “Whenever we see it, we’ve gotta handle it.” They all made noises of agreement.

  Eli leaned forward on his elbows. “Yeah, it was Dontae who said we had these gifts. Night vision. Sensitive smell, superior hearing…”

  Dontae waved his hand to shut up his friend. “Yeah, yeah. We all know what we can do.”

  Eli reached over and smacked him. “I’m repeating the way you said it, fucker.” He continued, doing a respectful impression of his friend. “Strength, speed. We should use them to help people. And we start with this motherfucker right here.”

  Dontae stared ahead, refusing to take pride in what to him was something that just made sense.

  Thinking about Diana’s bruises and cuts, old and new, Eli inhaled and announced, “Well, today I found a new one.”

  They listened as he told them about the afternoon, leaving out his meeting with Rose because he didn’t know what to make of that yet. In detail he described calling Dontae to Darik and Nathaniel, then filled them all in on going to the apartment, finding out it was probably too late and choosing to wait. “I hated to walk away.”

  “It’s usually not two nights in a row. There’s a guilt stage where the abuser apologizes and plays nice,” Darik reminded him, his voice flat.

  Dontae and Nathaniel nodded.

  Eli sighed and took a sip. “Exactly. I hate that something like this exists so commonly there’s a known fucking cycle to it.”

  “Hurt people hurt people,” Darik informed them. His packmates stared at him like they’d never heard anything so lame. His eyebrows flew up. “What? I saw it in a movie with Tim Robbins last night. ‘Thank You For Sharing.’ It was pretty good.”

  Eli grabbed the used burger wrapper, balled it up and tossed it at Darik’s head. It was caught before impact of course, but the point was received.

  Nathaniel raked a hand through his dark hair. “You seem to find all the spousal abuse victims. What happened the last time you had one?”

  Eli sighed. “It’s my curse. Or my gift. Depends on how you look at it. But that’s what keeps falling in my lap. I see them and I can’t just let it go. I’m supposed to help her.”

  “And you will,” Dontae said, his demeanor heavy with responsibility. “The best we can do is help those who can’t help themselves. I can look at myself in the mirror at the end of the day and not feel like I’m wasting what God gave me.”

  Darik took a swig and leaned forward. “It’s made life more…”

  “Enough!” “Please stop!” “Darik, you’ve got to stop watching romantic comedies.”

  Affronted, he sat back. Jogging his chin at Dontae, he demanded, “Well, what do you watch?!”

  Without missing a beat, Dontae dryly answered, “The Blacklist.”

  Darik shook his head. “Of course you do.”

  Dontae shrugged, “James Spader is a fucking genius,” taking a drink.

  Eli directed his answer to Nathaniel’s question at everyone. “Last time? I beat the guy to a pulp and sent him to the hospital in an ambulance.” He paused and corrected, “Secretly sent him…you know the drill.”

  “Well, go do that again,” Nathaniel smiled.

  Dontae asked, “That cut was fresh on her nose?” Eli nodded. “Then it won’t happen again just yet. Wait it out a couple nights at least. Right now there are probably flowers on the table with a note that says, I’m so sorry, I love you.”

  The four stood up and held their glasses over the coffee table, meeting each other in the eye one by one. The glasses came together in a beautiful high-pitched celebration of their unity and all drank.

  As they sat down, Eli thought it was as good a time as any. “I’m moving into Michelle’s place so she can move in here.”

  The room went silent with tense surprise. Eli looked around, his muscles tight as he braced for a tirade. Nathaniel’s were the same. Darik’s blue eyes were on Dontae who stared at the coffee table for a long while, then shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

  Nathaniel and Eli blinked to each other, silently agreeing that Dontae would never cease to amaze.

  Chapter Ten

  “Why were you in such a hurry to get me over here?” Lana purred, stretching her naked, spent body across Michelle’s old bed. “Miss me?”

  He chuckled and scratched his abs, knowing she was kidding. “Because I don’t want everything to smell like
love and marriage, that’s why.” He couldn’t explain that his sensitive nose sometimes was too much even for him, but he could share that little bit of info and have it sound normal. She had no idea what he was, just like every other human being on the planet, save for the one married to Nathaniel. And it had taken some doing for his pack to make that choice.

  Lana was a great girl for what this was. Sex and nothing more. They were an outlet for each other. It was understood. He had a few girls he could call when he wanted, but she lived in the East Village and was the least clingy. Since he knew she wasn’t his forever, he needed her to stay the way she was–detached and easy to be around. No issues. No drama. A good time whenever they were both available. That was Lana. But she probably would have hated to know that the entire time he was fucking her he was picturing Rose’s face. It hadn’t been on purpose. She just kept popping in there!

  The second he’d walked into the place and smelled its previous owner all over everything, he’d called Lana right away. Gratefully, she was free. He needed to break his first night in by marking the territory with sex had by him, another woman’s aroma washing away the one who used to live here, the one who belonged to his best friend. He already knew way too much about Michelle, he didn’t need to fall asleep with her smell everywhere. At least she’d changed the sheets.

  Lying naked next to Lana after four hours of fucking on the newly relinquished couch, kitchen counter, wall by the front door and finally bed, he inhaled, satisfied. “We did a bang up job changing the energy in here. Forgive the pun.”

  She laughed languidly, “I won’t.”

  He smiled and put his hands behind his head, bending a knee, the covers beneath him.

  Lana traced the muscles on his sweat-beaded chest with a red painted fingernail, her long dark hair all over the place. “You want me to sleep over?” His smile froze. “You don’t have a roommate anymore. Wouldn’t it be nice to wake up in the morning and get some coffee, have breakfast?” She traced his nipple with light circles. “It’s eleven and you wore me out. Why don’t I just stay over here?” She kissed it and laid her head on him, closing her eyes and smiling serenely.

  Eli stared at the ceiling wondering what to say. His spirits took a nosedive as he realized this night wasn’t going to end well. “You can’t stay over, Lana. Sorry.”

  One eye peeked out of a tiny mascara-smudged slit. “What? It’s late, Eli.” Her raw lips pouted and she closed her eyes again, snuggling closer in a way that said she was determined.

  Lifting her on top of him, he massaged her taut body, hoping to make it succumb to reason, that her mind would follow. “Lana baby, it’s my first night here. I won’t be able to sleep as it is. And with you here, my dick will be hard all night.” That wasn’t the reason. It wasn’t even true.

  A sensual giggle bubbled from her. “You’ve convinced me. I’m staying.”

  He sighed a real sigh. “Lana, don’t make me be the bad guy.”

  Her body went tense. He braced himself as she sat up, straddling him, her expression ice-cold stone. He loved her badass bitch side, but not when it was directed at him. “Are you seriously going to fuck me four times–”

  “Five.”

  She gritted her teeth. “FIVE times, and then kick me out?!”

  He rose up and leaned on his elbows to offer her a smile. “We have a good thing. Come on! When have you ever stayed the night?”

  “Never.”

  “When have I ever stayed the night at your place?”

  She crossed her arms and paused. “Well, there was that one time…”

  “I fell asleep for thirty minutes in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.” And when he’d awoken he’d gotten out of there as quickly as possible, terrified she’d get the wrong idea. She hadn’t. Or so he’d thought until now. The fact that she remembered it was evidence enough. They were no longer on the same page.

  With patience he reminded her, “You’re always telling me, Eli, I have no interest in dating you.”

  She blinked, her chin jutting out. “Still. Time has passed and…”

  “And how many times do we normally fuck? Three, four, five times, right? I’m not all of a sudden treating you differently, am I.” It wasn’t a question. She stared at him in silence. Rising up, he put his muscular arms around her and planted a kiss on her prominent collarbone with finality. “Exactly. So don’t act like I’m hurting you. This is what we always do.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t want to do what we always do anymore,” she murmured, burying her face in the nook of his shoulder and neck. Sliding her fingers onto his head, she rubbed the short shave, something she knew he loved. “Maybe I want to stay over.”

  Now he was irritated. He lifted her off him and set her down on the bunched-up comforter. Rising from the bed, he walked naked to the bathroom, knowing full well she was staring at his exit, pissed as hell. But fuck it. He hated being manipulated.

  He winced as she spat, “What the fuck? Why’d you go all cold?”

  Turning around he stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth in an effort to stay his anger. Huffing through his nose, he took a few deep breaths and said in a low, controlled voice, “This has never been serious. That’s the way we both want it.”

  “Staying over is serious?” she demanded.

  “Yes. And that’s why we’re fighting and why you’re rubbing my head when you know I love that. Don’t you think I can feel the difference from when you do it because you want to, and when you do it to make me your bitch?”

  She jumped off the bed, heading for her things in the living room. “You are my bitch and you don’t even know it! Do you know how many guys can get it up five times in a few hours over the age of twenty five, wearing a fucking condom? None!” He followed her into the living room and watched her yank her black dress and high heels on, shoving her panties and bra into her purse as she continued, “You want this, and you want it bad. So don’t tell me you don’t want anything serious. The only reason you’re fighting it is you’re already crazy about me!”

  He couldn’t help but smile at her logic and inaccuracy. “Is that so?”

  She shot up, her dark hair flying backward. “Yes! That’s so, Eli! It is very so!” Heading for the door, she hopped on one foot adjusting the strap of a heel. “I’m going to let you sit in this for awhile and come to your fucking senses. Goodnight!”

  As her hand wrapped around Michelle’s old doorknob, a knock sounded from the other side of the door. Lana and Eli both froze, and she looked over to him with a question in her eyes.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know who it is. This is my first night here. Open the door.”

  “You’re naked!” she hissed.

  He glanced to his muscular torso, his exhausted cock and finally to his bare tootsies. “Oh yeah. Hang on.”

  “Michelle?” came a female voice through the door.

  Eli recognized it instantly. Fuck. He blinked at the fake hardwood floor, unable to believe the timing. Shaking his head he grabbed a white blanket off the bed and wrapped it over his shoulders, holding it closed around him with one hand. Padding back in, he gestured for the door. “Okay. Open it.”

  Lana rolled her eyes. “What am I, your servant?” She opened the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  Standing in the hallway on the welcome mat pushing light-brown shoulder-length hair from a frowning forehead, was the woman he’d run from just yesterday. That she’d be standing here with confused blue eyes flitting from him wearing only a blanket to Lana, was about the last thing Eli had seen coming. She looked pretty freakin’ cute, too, with her face all screwed up like that as it quickly dawned on her what she’d walked into. In his fantasies, she’d been more sultry and dressed like a stripper, but the All-American charm she was sporting was even more appealing.

  Lana slammed one hand onto her jutted hip, still holding the door. Rose checked her out, raking a discerning glance from the heels upward. Where Lana was dressed for a night on the town, Rose wore f
aded, ripped-up blue jeans, a short brown coat over a deep blue sweater, and bright red sneakers.

  He grinned, “Rose!” trying to act normal. “Come in. Lana was just leaving.”

  Lana’s jaw dropped. “You are unbelievable! Who is this?”

  Closing the blanket tighter he took a few steps closer and locked eyes with Lana, his voice low. “This is Michelle’s best friend. She obviously came over to see her, see how she’s dressed all casual and buddy-buddy? She’s not here to see me.”

  “The last person I expected to see here was him,” Rose agreed, waving her hand in front of her like there was no way in hell she’d planned this. Lana stared from one to the other trying to decide if she believed them. Rose threw a look to Eli and made a face. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m not attracted to Eli.”

  He blinked, surprised, and his spine straightened like a shot.

  Lana peered at him through gleeful eyes. “Ha!” She said it like it was the punctuation to their argument. “Well, then you’ve just saved yourself a lot of grief, Michelle’s best friend. Excuse me.” She walked past Rose into the hallway and without looking back shouted, “Eli Jackson, you think about what I told you!”

  He inhaled patience and crossed to the door, pulled Rose in by her arm and shut it. He let her go and headed for the couch where he plopped down with his bare legs jutting from the blanket. With both feet planted to ground him, he shook his head. “Just stay here with me a minute so I can remember what it’s like to be in a sane woman’s company.”

  She crossed her arms. “Shouldn’t you go after her?”

  He chuckled, “No way.”

  Rose set down her bag and looked at him, then around the room. From under his brow he watched, but wasn’t able to read her expression. She crossed directly to a slender table by the window and touched a square, clean space outlined by a thin layer of dust. “She took our photo with her.” Her smile was small, her voice quiet. Biting her lip, Rose asked, “So, are you just here for the night?”