Some Were In Time

by Robyn Peterman

  "Oh my god," I gasped. "I'm gonna pass out and drown in the shower."

  "I gotcha, baby," he growled in my ear, driving my need to a fever pitch.

  "I just came twice with less than a minute in between. I should be dead," I mumbled as I scraped his shoulder with my fangs.

  "Let's go for one more together, lover," he whispered in my ear. A shudder rocked my body.

  "I could make that work." A soft cry left my lips as I felt the head of his erection press at my opening. "You feel so good," I hissed as my nails raked down his back.

  "It only gets better," he ground out as he entered me with one swift thrust.

  We both cried out and sweet and slow time was over. His thrusts were wild and I met them with joyous abandon. We mated and made love like the animals we were. A tingling started between my legs and I ground myself against him.

  "I'm close," I said frantically as I took his lips in a violent kiss.

  "Bite me," he demanded against my lips. "Now."

  As I sunk my fangs into the smooth skin of his shoulder he did the same to me. Blinding color ripped across my vision as I screamed in ecstasy. My body tightened like a vise around him and the sounds that came from deep in his chest prolonged my orgasm almost to the point of pain. His roar as he came got tangled with my scream. I dropped my head to his chest and gasped for air. Hank held me tight and whispered words of love in my ear. Everything was right with my world.

  I didn't care who wanted me dead or that I hadn't found a wedding dress or that Were Cows were something that existed. I was in the arms of the man I loved more than my own life. Tomorrow would be a new day, but this very moment was perfection.

  "I'm dead," I grunted. "I'm fairly sure you just screwed me to death."

  His chuckle made me grin, but I was too wrecked to pick up my head to glare at him.

  "You feel alive to me," he said as he sat me on the shower bench and proceeded to gently wash my entire body—including my hair.

  "You are a keeper," I mumbled and he rinsed me and pressed a sweet kiss to my lips.

  I watched him clean himself with the same efficiency he used in his daily life. If I'd had the energy I would have copped a feel, but all I could do was sit back and enjoy the show—and it was a very good show.

  "We have twenty minutes to get ready before we leave for the ceremony." Hank exited the shower and handed me a fluffy bath sheet. "You gonna be able to walk out of there?" he inquired with a cocky grin.

  I was still a useless but very satisfied noodle. I stuck my tongue out at him as I gingerly rose and followed him into our bedroom.

  "How dressy are we going?" I asked as I pawed through my closet.

  "Just wear something that will be easy to take off for the shift," he said as he pulled on some loose pants and a collared shirt.

  He could make a garbage bag look hot.

  "Okay." I grabbed a sundress that was easy to slip out of and stepped into my Prada sandals. I considered flip-flops, but that kind of hurt my soul. My legs looked far better in heels and even though I was a wanted woman, I planned on going out in style.

  "Oh," Hank said absently as he twisted one of my wet curls in his fingers. "I was able to procure an invite for Dwayne."

  "Oh my god." I laughed. "This could turn out to be a shit show."

  Hank's grin made my heart flip. "You are correct, my mate."

  I shook my head and grabbed my purse. "Did you tell him not to bring the faux fur?"

  "Of course not." Hank laughed. "I can't wait to see the elder's faces when he pulls that baby out."

  "You're really bad," I said with a light punch to his arm.

  "Actually," he said with a smirk, "I'm really good."

  I giggled and gave him a kiss. I certainly couldn't argue with that logic.

  Chapter 5

  "Um, Dwayne, what in the Hell are you wearing?" I asked as I took in his ensemble.

  "Drawstring gauchos and a spandex tear-away halter top," he answered. "You like?"

  "Is that a trick question?" I asked as I bit back my giggle.

  "Doll face," Dwayne informed me with raised brows, "this is all the rage right now. I'll let you borrow the gauchos whenever, but I'll probably destroy the top when I tear it from my body later."

  "Thanks, but I'll pass," I mumbled as I glanced around the clearing.

  "Where are the boys?" Dwayne asked, referring to Hank and Junior.

  "At the big house with their dad getting ready," I told him.

  We were on Hank and Junior's parents' property. The Wilsons owned several hundred acres of the most beautiful and lush land on the island. Magic hung thick in the air and I wrapped my arms around my waist and breathed it in. My wolf itched to come out and play. I hadn't shifted enough lately. Hank, Granny and I had shifted in Jamaica and played on the beach twice while Dwayne kept watch, but it wasn't the same as shifting with my Pack.

  "OMG," Dwayne whispered. "You should get married here. It's fabu."

  "You know what? You're right. This place is perfect," I told a delighted Dwayne truthfully. "I'll have to ask… "

  "Ester?" an imperious female voice demanded. "Is that you over there skulking with the Vampyre?"

  "Damn it," I hissed and wondered if I could make a break for it. I'd hate to miss Junior's ceremony, but dealing with Junior and Hank's mom was tantamount to a living hell.

  "Do you want me to mind meld her?" Dwayne asked with wide eyes.

  She clearly scared him too. I shook my head and stepped bravely in front of my BFF.

  "Hello, Mrs. Wilson," I choked out as I glanced around wildly for Hank, Granny or Junior.

  All the Weres in the immediate vicinity stopped what they were doing and watched. Several pushed each other out of the way to get a better view.

  Crapballs.

  "From what I understand you'll be calling me mother soon—not that anyone bothered to inform me," she purred silkily as her eyes flashed with anger and her fists clenched at her sides.

  There was excited whispering amongst the Pack as they waited for a showdown.

  "Does she have any daughters?" Dwayne asked frantically in my head. My very pissed soon to be mother-in-law's fangs descended, much to the delight of the crowd.

  "Oh my freakin hell! Are you inside my head?" I asked.

  "Yep, and you're in mine. Answer the question," he insisted.

  "We are so going to talk about this new party trick later," I said.

  "The question?"

  God, he was a nag.

  "No. No, she has no daughters."

  "That is the answer I was hoping for. Ask her to help you find a dress," he told me as his voice bounced around loudly in my brain.

  "Hell no," I shot back. "I'd rather remove my boob with a dull butter knife."

  "That can be arranged," Dwayne snapped, "but right now you will ask that heinous woman who looks like she wants you dead to help you find a dress."

  "Ester," Mrs. Wilson hissed as she advanced on me and the crowd drew closer. "I find your silence to be rude. I have no idea what my son sees in you and I think… "

  "Will you help me find my wedding dress?" I shouted at the top of my lungs, causing everyone to clap their hands over their ears… including Mrs. Wilson.

  Her silence was deafening and I wanted to curl up and die, but not before I decapitated Dwayne.

  She slowly peeled her perfectly manicured hands from her ears and looked down at the ground as her body began to tremble. She was so going to try to kill me. What a clusterhump. Tonight was supposed to be an evening of celebration and magic and now it was turning into a death match. My heart thumped in my chest so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. I could kill a Dragon, but Hank's mom scared the pants off me.

  It was so going to suck if she tried to off me. Hank might be unhappy if I tore his mother's head off… I mean, I knew they didn't get along, but me killing her could put a real crimp in my sex life.

  She looked up and her eyes were glassy. Pulling a perfectly starched w
hite lacey handkerchief from her ample bosom, she dabbed at her eyes. What the Hell was happening? Did she feel bad that she wanted to kill me? I really didn't want to kill her, but if she left me no choice…

  "What did you say?" she asked so softly I had to lean in to hear.

  "I, um… I forgot," I choked out. This could not be happening.

  "She asked you to help her select a wedding gown. Actually, what she meant to say was do you still have yours? She would be honored to wear it," Dwayne cut in as he casually smoothed out the wrinkles in his gauchos as if the future of my life wasn't pending.

  "You are so dead," I threatened.

  "Already dead. Doesn't scare me," he shot back.

  "Do you really want to wear my dress?" Mrs. Wilson asked in a high-pitched voice. Her tears now flowed freely.

  What was going on here? Did she want me to wear her dress? Confusion didn't begin to cover my rioting emotions. I was ready for a smack-down and now I was negotiating a dress? Shit, when did she get married? It had to be at least thirty or forty years ago. Her dress was probably poofy and horrid. I wanted something strapless and simple… A painful pinch from Dwayne halted my inner monologue.

  "Tell her you want to wear her damn dress," he shouted inside my head.

  "It's probably fugly," I shrieked in a panicked tone.

  "You have a choice here," Dwayne explained. "Wear a heinous, more than likely white wedding gown and live reasonably non-deadly holiday seasons with your mother in law—or get your ass handed to you."

  "I think I could take her," I said with confidence.

  "Just don't see that going over real well."

  "Point. Do I really have to wear her dress?"

  "Yes. Yes, you do."

  "You suck so bad," I snarled at him. "You will pay for this."

  "Doll face?"

  "Yes?"

  "Everyone is staring at you," Dwayne said.

  He was correct. They were all watching me to see what I was going to say. I knew half of them probably were hoping for a fight. We really were a violent species. However, there would be no bloodshed tonight. I hoped…

  "Yes, Mrs. Wilson, I would be humbled and honored to wear your dress," I said as I tried not to gag on my words. I was certain it would have huge sleeves and a train from hell.

  She whipped around on the blood-thirsty crowd, scaring the hell out of them. I was glad to see it wasn't just me…

  "Did you hear that?" she shouted, getting the attention of the entire Pack. "My daughter wants to wear my wedding gown at her nuptials."

  The crowd went wild and Mrs. Wilson took a bow. This was all kinds of weird, but I was quite sure I was going to live through the evening now. I knew in my heart the gown would be awful, but it did save me from having to try on any more.

  Next thing I knew I was in a rib-crunching hug from Mrs. Wilson. Getting beaten to death was one thing, getting loved to death was another. However, they both hurt.

  "Go for the home run while you're ahead," Dwayne insisted.

  I couldn't see him as I was trapped in Mrs. Wilson's enormous cleavage, but I could hear him… and he had a point.

  "Can we get married here?" I knew it came out muffled, but she heard it. I was certain that she liked the idea because I heard my sternum crack.

  "Oh dear sweet baby Jesus, all the angels and saints, the Goddess, Mother Earth, all my ancestors and Dolce and Gabbana, my prayers have been answered! We'll be hosting the nuptials of my son and my darling daughter-in-law on our land. Praise Buddha," she shouted.

  Again the crowd went nuts.

  "Boy, she really hit a large cross-section of deities," Dwayne observed.

  "Can you pry me out of her knockers?" I begged, still unable to see anything except the cavern between her bosoms.

  "I'll give it a shot," he said. "Mrs. Wilson, you truly have the gams to pull off some gauchos," Dwayne gushed.

  "Oh, do you think so?" she asked, flattered as she dropped me to the ground and moved in to examine Dwayne's fashion disaster that covered his lower half.

  As I sat sprawled on the grass I tried to regulate my breathing. My future mother-in-law had one hell of a deadly hug. It reminded me yet again to stay on her good side. I'd hate to get introduced to her left hook.

  "Are you okay?" Sandy Moongie asked quietly as she squatted down next to me and gently lifted my chin.

  Sandy and I had gone to high school together and I adored her. Heavy and shy in her teen years, she had slimmed down and looked like a damned super model now—wild blonde curls framed her heart-shaped face and her cornflower blue eyes were huge. She had been one of the gals I'd saved from the Dragons and we were bonded for life.

  "Will be in about thirty seconds," I replied with a weak grin. "She's a scary mother humper."

  "You got that right. So… I'm not sure whether to say thank you or to tackle your ass for telling Hank and his brother that I'm a computer whiz."

  My grin was now large. I luuurved that she wouldn't call Junior by name. I was certain she had it as bad as he did.

  "What?" she asked as her eyes narrowed.

  "Nothing," I said. I put my hands out to Sandy for some help up. My ribs were still burning from the loving I'd just received from Mrs. Wilson.

  "Will you ever call her mom?" Sandy asked as she pulled me to my feet.

  That gave me pause and indigestion. "Oh my hell, do you think I'll have to?"

  "Don't know." She shrugged and laughed. "Knowing her, she'll make you call her Mrs. Wilson the rest of her unnaturally long life."

  "I'd bet my life her dress is butthole fugly," I muttered as I checked my midsection for blood or a protruding rib.

  Sandy bit at her full lips and stared at the ground.

  "Tell me," I hissed as I yanked her away from the Pack so we wouldn't be heard.

  "She wore one similar to what my mother wore," she said slowly while trying not to laugh.

  "And?" I demanded.

  "It's freakin awful—huge, with sleeves bigger than my head and acres of material… and a rhinestone tiara veil," she gasped out, barely containing herself.

  "Is it white?"

  "Of course it's white," she said, confused.

  "Son of a bitch, Dwayne is dead," I muttered as I spun around and started to march back into the fray to behead my BFF.

  "Oh shit," she muttered. "Come back here."

  "Look, I have to maim Dwayne for getting me into this or at least spill something on his gauchos that will permanently stain them," I explained impatiently as I walked back to her. "Can this wait?"

  "No, it can't," she said as she twisted her hands. "I know Junior will brief you guys on this, but it looks like one of his geeky friends accidently put Dwayne's name into the search engine with the Were Cows." Sandy paled considerably and her eyes were wide.

  "What does that mean?" I asked, fairly sure I knew.

  "It means the Cows could know Dwayne is alive and well," she said.

  "That is sucktastic," I yelled catching the attention of the group admiring Dwayne's heinous ensemble. From the looks of it, he and Mrs. Wilson were now besties. I smiled and waved as I dragged Sandy farther into the woods.

  "What else do you know?"

  "That's really about it. Junior let the geek guy have it so bad I was hurtin' when he was done," she said with a shudder.

  "Did you think it was hot?" I asked.

  "What the hell kind of question is that?" she asked as heat crept up her cheeks.

  "A legit one," I said. "Answer it."

  Sandy rolled her eyes and I giggled.

  "Fine," she huffed. "It was hot, but Junior is such a knob I'm not going there."

  "You do realize you just called your Alpha a knob," I informed her.

  "Shit," she mumbled. She walked farther into the woods, leaned on a tree and resumed chewing on her lips.

  "Look, if it helps, he's given up his man-whore ways," I told her.

  Her eyebrows shot up and she snorted with disgust. "When? Last week?"


  "Well, um… yeah."

  "Priceless," Sandy said with another eye roll. "Come on, we need to get back. The knob is going to be inducted soon."

  She started back to the clearing and I gently took her arm.

  "Sandy, he's really not a knob," I told her.