The Devil's a Werewolf

by Thalia Eames

  “You ready to tell me now?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jules said.

  She could hear Lennox purse her lips as she tsked. “Let me help you out. How big is his dick?”

  “Lennox!” Jules sputtered in her apple cider.

  “What? Is my grandmother with you?”

  “No.”

  “All right. You know you want to tell me. What’s he packing?”

  Big thanks to Gran for calling Lennox. This convo delivered exactly what Jules needed to bring her out of her depression. Jules arched a brow. “How big is Garrett’s?”

  “Well, you know those summer sausages Gran gives us at Christmas?”

  Jules covered her face with the crook of her elbow. “That cannot be un-visualized. I need brain bleach.”

  A scoff from Lennox, a sound Jules knew accompanied a twitchy left eye. “Why are you acting shy? You’ve spent your life saying things that make me blush. You once described Adam Cross’s junk in such detail I can’t eat raw carrots without having someone cut them up for me first. You’re fascinated with cocks, honey.”

  “So?”

  “So, tell me about the D, lady.” Lennox laughed. On any other night Jules would’ve laughed with her.

  “I can’t even think about that, Lennox. Not when I did this awful thing. I got sexually aggressive with him.” Jules’s voice broke. “Fuck.”

  “Jules, honey, no.” Lennox waited for a beat. “Tell me from the beginning so I can help.”

  Shame clogged her throat and Jules choked. She set her mug down on the bedside table before she dropped it, and flipped off the lamp, preferring darkness for confessing. Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she tried to explain why she did what she did before telling Lennox what she’d done. “I get confused when he’s around. He does something to me. He has this inescapable pull.”

  “Cash’s brother Dashiell?” Lennox asked softly.

  “Yes, that man is everything, Lennox. Do you know what it’s like to meet a man and a week later you’re so infatuated with him it’s as if no one else exists?”

  Fabric rustled as Lennox moved. “I do. Garrett. He’s…beyond for me.”

  “Yes!” Jules said. “I don’t love Daz. We’ve just met. But my soul knows I’m going to fall for him. Soon, hard, and fast.” She dropped her face into both hands. “Daz is everything I want and everything I don’t. He moves with this grace and power and although he hides his kindness he makes my heart stop with the way his whole being comes together. He’s beautifully irresistible, Lennox.”

  “You’re blessed you’ve found him. I don’t understand the problem, Jules.”

  “Leni, beyond my objectification of this man. Which is vile.” Jules took a breath. “Dashiell has 1.5 million YouTube followers. When he crashed into your house he vlogged it.”

  “Okay. Well, does he see what you did as harassment? Also, that YouTube thing is not good for you. Of course crashing into my house isn’t good for him either.”

  “He definitely took it as harassment. He told me no. I pushed it and he got angry. I don’t blame him for that. None of this is good. For him or for me.” Jules gulped cider from her mug and put it back on the bedside table. “On top of that he has this weird condition. When people touch him it hurts. But not with me. I don’t bring him physical pain but the touch thing is the reason he wants me to stay away. I know he’s as attracted to me as I am to him. He’s just worried our ability to touch won’t last and he’ll be left more alone than before we met.”

  A quick tsk from Lennox. “Like you said, none of this is good for him. If Garrett saved me from isolation and later on his touch started to hurt me, it would destroy me.”

  Jules nodded. “Daz feels the same way. We agreed to be friends for those reasons.”

  A nail gun fired pop pop pop and echoed through the house. “What’s that?” Lennox asked.

  “Him.” Jules shrugged in the darkness. “He’s probably imagining my face as the target for his nail gun”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I can’t keep my mind or my hands off of him.” Jules’s head fell back against the headboard and she stared at the ceiling. “It’s not natural, Leni. It’s like our energies are in such opposition that I’m magnetized specifically to him.” Jules took a moment to think. “I don’t touch him on purpose. I touch him like I’m reclaiming a part of myself.”

  Lennox let out a slow sigh. “Whoa.”

  “I made a promise to be his friend. Then I sexually assaulted him.”

  “What? You didn’t say you put your hands on him.” Lennox seemed to sit straight up.

  “Yes. Hello? Me who rescues abused women. Me who calls herself a feminist. Me who tells young girls they have the right to refuse consent. I took this beautiful man’s trust in my offer of friendship and I violated it.”

  Her vision blurred with hot shame.

  Her friend’s voice turned soothing. “You’ve always been a contradiction: a good Catholic versus a cursing banshee, a geek girl who likes to shoot with live ammo rather than in video games. You know what I’m saying, but you’re also one to keep your word.” Lennox tapped the phone. “Ease up on the recriminations. You were reacting to emotions you didn’t expect to feel. You were overwhelmed.”

  Jules snapped her fingers to silence both their justifications. “That’s not an excuse, Lennox.”

  “No,” Lennox replied, clearly reprimanded. “But maybe it’s a reason for you to be forgiven. You said he wants you just as badly as you want him.”

  “He does.” Jules sighed. “But not once has he disrespected me.”

  “Wow. Jules, even if you can’t fix it you can apologize. Let the man know you respect him and you can be a good friend.”

  Jules banged the back of her head against the headboard. “I’m wondering if I should leave it alone. I’m out of control, Leni. If he stays angry and I keep my guilt maybe it’ll form a big enough wall between us that we’ll leave each other alone.”

  They both sat in silence for a few seconds. Lennox finally said what they were both thinking. “I don’t know. If your attraction to him is as powerful as you say, I don’t think you have any chance of letting him go. And I don’t think he’s going to let you go either.”

  Chapter Ten

  The rain continued all night until it painted the first shades of dawn in a pale gray. Daz padded down the hall in near silence; only Gran’s snores ruffled the quiet. He’d exhausted himself on repairs and needed a break. There were also things he wanted.

  He flattened his palm against Jules’s cracked door and pushed. Standing in her doorway, just outside her domain, he checked the bed, thinking he’d find her still asleep.

  Inside, she sat up in bed, her gaze on the ceiling and a cable knit blanket covering her muddy legs. An empty mug hung from one of her fingers. Occasionally she rolled and unrolled that finger, pulling the mug closer and letting it slip away. Similar to the way they interacted with each other.

  He rumbled deep in his throat and her gaze dropped to meet his. Immediately her entire body went on alert. Underneath the attention she trained on him, a livewire of excitement connected their energies.

  “Daz.” She said his name like therapy. He’d like to film her for his vlog. Sharing her and the things she made him feel with the Dazzlers—his subscribers—would feel good. But she’d made it very clear she wanted to stay out of the limelight. After the way Adam Cross betrayed her, no one could deny her choice. And now wasn’t the time to break out his camera; unlike the way vlogging made him feel in touch with the world, Jules wouldn’t appreciate the attention.

  She watched him as he moved into the room and stopped at the foot of her bed.

  “Dashiell, I need to apologize—”

  He lifted a hand and waved her off. “I didn’t come here for apologies. I need to take a break from work and
get out and do something. You’re my only friend in town so…” He let the rest fade off. Scratching his beard, he tried again. “That’s a lie. The truth is, there’s a place I want to go and I want to get you dirty.” He looked down at the muddy bedspread and finished with, “Dirtier.” Off her scrunched brow he amended, “Literally, of course. You up for a bit of fun?”

  She tugged on her ear. The adorableness of her gesture set off all kinds of tremors in his chest. The tremors morphed into titillation-tightened arousal as they drifted past his abdomen and lower…Daz shook it off. She didn’t have to touch him to make him crazy.

  “I need to apologize first.”

  “Apologize by being a friend. That’s all I need right now.” He inclined his head and looked up at her through the fringe of his lashes. “We good?”

  She nodded. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly and she scooted out of bed.

  “Good,” he said. “Wear something you don’t mind throwing away at the end of the day. Bring flip-flops too.”

  A few minutes later they crossed the back lot of Averdeen land as drizzle fell around them. After about a ten-minute walk in the perfect quiet they shared each time fate brought them together, they came to the bend in Staunton River. A muddy bank rose up on one side and sloped into the river at the perfect angle for sliding. A few families had already made good use of the rain and mud. Daz scraped his teeth across his bottom lip in anticipation. Cash had recommended this place because he knew how much Daz liked to make a mess, and he’d figured mud sliding would be safe. He glanced at Jules in his peripheral vision. Safe happened to be a matter of perspective.

  Jules made a sound of glee, dropped her bag, flipped off her flops, and did a Superman down the mud bank without a thank you. Daz kicked off his own flip-flops, set his bag under a tree, and joined her. They rejoiced in the mud, went crazy with speed and splashed geysers of soil-rich water into the air. On one trip down the bank, a little boy Jules knew ran over and sat in her lap ready to take the plunge with her.

  They revved their imaginary engines and zoom, splash, win. The next time down Daz told them he wanted to race. He said he’d be Danica Patrick and the little one said no. He got to be Danica Patrick or else they weren’t racing. They raced, and Daz made sure he lost.

  On another trip down Jules got talked into being a canoe. A few kids piled onto her back and sploosh, highest speed and best splash of the day. Daz wished he could’ve been their canoe and could’ve participated more in the fun, rather than being exiled to the edge of it.

  Two hours in, Daz asked Jules to take a break. “I’ve packed a few snacks for us,” he told her. He didn’t have to ask again. She ran—slipping and sliding on her bare feet—up the hill. They washed their hands in a spigot by the tree line, then they sat on a wide flat rock at the top of the bank. He took out his first set of towels and draped them over both their laps. From out of his bag he pulled a shallow square plastic container and handed it to her. She opened it to find green apples smeared with fresh peanut butter. She popped one into her mouth and swayed, on a food high.

  “How did you know?”

  He smoothed the hair on his chin with the back of his knuckles and she stared at his hand. He liked the way she appreciated him with her eyes. It made him feel sexy and powerful. “I did my research,” he said.

  She nodded with a smirk on her lips. “Gran packed this.”

  “Hell no, she didn’t.” He chuckled. “I do my own work.”

  She bowed her head to him. “Nicely done,” she said when he handed her a pineapple Ramune Japanese soda. He’d already popped the marble for her. She held up her soda for a toast and he tapped his Superfood bottle to hers, before tossing a mix of dried berries and pumpkin seeds into his mouth.

  “I’ve also got shrimp and avocado,” he said, holding up another container for her. She grabbed it and thanked him with a grin before diving in. They ate in more of the silence that wrapped him in harmony. Daz didn’t know when he’d been at peace last, so he held on to it as long as he could.

  “Thank you,” Jules said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye while handing him her food containers to pack back into the bag.

  “You’ve already thanked me for lunch,” he said, putting the remains of their lunch away so they could slide a bit more while the mud was still wet.

  Her gaze darted left and she tapped her foot. “For forgiving me, I mean.”

  Daz pushed his mud-caked hair off his face. “There’s never a question about forgiveness between me and you.”

  Shocked and unable to hide her pleasure in his words, she mouthed “okay”. They played with a whole new set of families until late afternoon, then packed up the muddy towels and headed back to the manor. Once they hit the backyard, Gran came out and got the hose. Jules screamed when the old broad turned the cold water on her, but Daz threw his arms wide and welcomed it. Gran cackled at them as they danced for her and Jules actually yelled out, “Let the wild rumpus begin!” from Where the Wild Things Are before she high-stepped around the yard.

  The resolve to be friends fractured at the sight of Jules with her thick black hair and complementary blue streak flowing wet down her back, the shapely rose-gold legs of a pagan goddess, wide hips and a wider smile. A geek girl who quoted Maurice Sendak and surfed mud banks like Superman. Absolute perfection. He wanted to sweep her up and mark her to let everyone know he’d been lucky enough to find and claim her heart. Him, Dashiell Warren, a man who’d been next to worthless before her was the one man she wanted. Daz shook it off.

  Running up and dancing back he dared Gran to hit him with a stream of water from the hose. This was a good day with two good friends, Daz reminded himself. It would have to be enough.

  Later that night he sat in the reading chair in his room and tried not to think about the way Jules looked in those tiny jean shorts with all that smooth rose-gold skin exposed. He held on to his phone to keep the ebook he’d been reading close, and pulled his shirt off with one arm. Settling back into the chair he rolled a knuckle across one of his nipples then did the same to the other, allowing the sensation to run through his body. With a flattened palm he rubbed down his stomach muscles to the top of his jeans, where he popped the button. Strange he hadn’t jerked off since he’d met Jules, but during the years he’d lived in touch-solitude he’d learned to pleasure himself in so many ways. No one else could do it for him.

  Daz dropped lower in the chair and stared down at his hard stomach and the jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him. He imagined how good it would feel when he came, and built his own anticipation, making his cock throb.

  He reached for his zipper just as his phone buzzed with an InterFace notification from a number he didn’t recognize. He thumbed YES to accept the face session and tried to look like he’d been chilling, ya’ know, reading a book.

  Jules’s face filled his screen and he took a sharp breath. She’d tied her hair back with a scarf and her cheeks looked freshly scrubbed and dewy. Goddamn, he wanted to get her dirty—figuratively this time, with sweat and sex.

  “Hey,” she said lightly, but her lip trembled.

  “Hey,” he said with more husk then he intended. He straightened in his chair. “What’s up?”

  She paused, seemed to weigh her answer and said, “I wanted to see what you’re doing.” A quick pixie smile. “Whachu doin’, Daz?”

  He dropped his head back in an groan then looked into his phone at her. “I’m going to give you a chance here. You want the truth or pleasantries?”

  Her breathing picked up. “Always honesty.”

  His heart rate ramped up when she gave him the freedom to say what he wanted. “I was about to jerk off.”

  “Oh shit.” She licked her bottom lip like he’d offered her more green apples and peanut butter.

  He groaned in response to the hungry look on her face. “I’m gonna go,” he said, his f
inger going for the disconnect. Her response froze him and melted him simultaneously.

  “I want to watch,” she said, smoke in her voice. “Let me see you make yourself come.”

  His cock jumped, straining against his jeans. “Fuck, Jules. You serious?”

  “Yes. Don’t make me beg.”

  “Oh, but I want you to,” he said, allowing the heat flooding his body to bottom out in his voice. She’d asked for honesty and he’d give it to her completely.

  She’d been lying flat on her stomach on the bed with her legs crossed at the ankle and held high behind her. At his words, she leaned forward toward the phone, pushing her T-shirt down and revealing the mounds of her breasts. “Please, Dashiell, show me.”

  He paused. They were in two different rooms, on different floors, in different parts of the house. He could risk it. Besides, sharing a moment of intimacy didn’t have to end their friendship. It might even reshape the boundaries they’d set in the beginning. Yes, they could do this. “All right,” he breathed the words out, a sexual charge thickening his voice.

  Standing up for a moment he repositioned the chair so it faced the table between him and the bed. Then he used his phone case to prop his phone up, giving Jules a clear view of his body.

  Sitting back in his chair he held her gaze. With a wriggle of his hips he pulled his jeans down and his erection popped free. Jules made a sound between an ooh and a moan, and desire tensed in his body.

  She put her hand over her mouth but not before he saw her lick her lips again. He was not going to make it. Those little noises she made, he’d come before he gave her a good show.

  “Don’t make another sound or this is over,” he said. “Understand?”

  Her nod provided the answer he needed. Daz waited while she perused him. When her gaze finally rose to meet his he ran the back of his hand up the length of his erection, pushing it down so it popped back up for her. Her fast breathing told him how much she liked it. Watching her, he pulled his jeans down a bit further so he could cup his balls. With one hand underneath him, he used the other to grab himself at the base and slowly move his cock in circles, shaking it a bit at the close of each circuit. Jules covered her mouth with another hand, her eyes wide.