Shifter Romance: Werewolf Shifter Romance: Problem Child (Wolf Shifter Romance Baby Romance Shapeshifter Romance) (Alpha Romance Short Stories Romance Shifter Romance) (2 page)

Jet clicked his fingers impatiently and summoned a black-clad waiter to the side table where he had been waiting for all of three minutes.

Three minutes too long.

He glanced at the Rolex on his arm.

“Champagne and ice,” He said nonchalantly to the tall, nervous young server.

He was used to being seen to – and fast. Perhaps he would have words with the management, let them know of his displeasure. Then that youngster would be picking up his P45 a damn site faster than he picked up his order pad.

The cooler arrived more promptly than his order had been taken but didn’t cull Jet’s irritation. What was the point of an exclusive restaurant if one did not get treated with respect?

The phone beeped and he picked it up irritably. It was Scot, his newest assistant.

“How will I recognize the client?”

Jet’s felt his temper rising. This guy was useless. What sort of psychic detective needed an E fit? Never mind the waiter, first thing tomorrow, that guy was history.

His annoyance abated slightly as he became distracted by the restaurant doors which flew open, letting in a draft blast of salty night air and with it some customers. Unexpectedly, for a mid-week night in January, the place was actually beginning to fill up.

An odd gaggle of disjointed males spilled into the dining area, standing in twos and threes awkwardly. Not in the usual male scrum of slightly pissed up bonhomie. Perhaps that would come later, although Jet got an instinctive feeling about this group, that somehow that was not going to happen here.

A weedy, slightly bendy looking guy with a wart on his upper lip wafted over towards where Jet was seated, beckoning over his companion, wearing an uncomfortable suit and shiny loafers, that appeared to be causing him significant discomfort.

At one point the slight, warty man, with dishwater hair almost caught his eye. But he soon dropped it. Jet knew who these nerds were. They were from the science conference that was in town. The place could barely move for the cloying scent of over applied after shave and fragile masculinity.

Yes, these were the shifter chasers, although they would probably rather be known as scientists, men of reason.

A callous smile played around Jet’s thin lips. These men would see themselves as rationalists, saviors even, but all they were helping to do was to –

An arse.

Cutting across everything, it came dancing into view.  Wiggling splendidly, up and down, back and forth, rhythmically.  Jet had a special talent for arses. This one had just entered stage left and was now weaving its very wavy way across the room in a slinky, yet slightly unsure fashion. Every thought he had previously been thinking just dropped out of his head.

Please let this be his date.

Jet wasn’t a man accustomed to praying but did find himself at that minute offering up an involuntary entreaty to the heavens.

The hips bounded past him and seemed to be headed for the distance. Slink – slinking off towards the door and pushing down on it. No doubt about to disappear forever.

Fuck you, God.

“Is this seat taken?”

He swiveled around in his seat in some confusion. Somehow, the hips were now right in front of him.

He frowned slightly, puzzled but pleased by the sight of her all the same.

The female’s voice was low and sultry, he liked that. It was also American, which was unexpected.

“I.. er.. no please sit down,” Said Jet, getting to his feet.

He was more than happy to assist the owner of such an ample behind to become comfortably seated, sad though it was to have to watch it disappearing into the chair. The female took her seat and squelched her fabulous buttocks on the chrome seat. She wouldn’t need any padding.

“You must be Mr. Black I’m guessing” She breathed.

“You guess right Rebecca,” He said, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. “Please sit down.”

He almost drank in her light brown almond shaped eyes and slightly freckled complexion. She was of average height, but with far more than average curves. This was promising.

Jet’s cool blue-grey eyes ran up and down over his companion’s frame and features as she studied the menu intently and then announced, in that slightly dusky voice, that she would only be having the salad.

“You not hungry?” He asked, inquisitively. This girl seemed well nourished and not quite the type to skimp on meals by the look of her. And there was nothing wrong with that too, he thought approvingly.

In fact, he would have been up for skipping dinner altogether and getting straight on with it. But his stomach had already filed its demands to his brain.

Under the table, he couldn’t help noticing the way that Rebecca was shifting from one buttock to the other. Her legs had taken on a life of their own and were crossing and uncrossing themselves in a way that seemed completely involuntary.

Jet felt himself buzz with a kind of low intensity.

“Um… Not really.” She said. He thought he sensed a note of caution in her voice. He watched in curiosity as she appeared to be vanishing behind the menu she was holding. Was she avoiding something? Him?

Then he sensed a presence on the back of his head. Without turning, he clocked the dishwater blond’s pale eyes burn into him.

Oh right, so he’s the one bothering you.

Amusement shot across his eyes for a millisecond.

He wouldn't have been much of a private detective if he couldn't spot these things after all.

He turned, for the briefest of tiny moments, as she shuffled pretending to look for something in her bag, desperately trying to avoid an interaction with the man. Then cast his eyes fulsomely onto the blond scrote’s face.

Jet stifled the urge to growl that was rising in his throat, as he surveyed the terrified prick and it submerged into a cough. Instantly, the gnat backed away, suddenly finding some other table to his liking and dragging his baffled mate along with him.

He won’t be bothering you now sweetie.

Rebecca looked up, nervously, to find, problem solved. The creep who had been hitting on her all day long suddenly kicked into the long grass or, at least, the table by the kitchen door, where he was obscured by wait staff coming in and out.

Then Jet met her eyes fully, she smiled but didn’t flinch or give any signals. Damn! Trying to read her was hard. She did not seem the type to go weak at the knees and if Jet was going to get what he wanted, he could see he was going to have to pull out all the stops.

Finally, she focused her attention on Jet. Now she was properly seated he had been brought into full HD view. Tall, maybe 6’ 4” and heavily built, with imperceptible eyes of a color she was yet to determine.

He was dressed sharply and, Rebecca suspected expensively. She wasn’t very au fait with men’s fashions and grooming, but that suit was definitely Hugo Boss. But it wasn’t so much the clothing. Jet could have been wearing ripped jeans, but still would have had the scent of money and power.

Nothing like Mark, this was a big plus. No matter where she went, she felt she was still somehow trapped by him. Even after their split, which had been painful, but not acrimonious, they were still living together, because of the stupid London rent situation.

So yes, they were officially through, but rather harder to have a wild night of passion when one’s ex still occupied the sofa and you were face to face with his undies on the end of the radiator every day.

In fact, Rebecca wasn’t even sure if she wanted a night of passion, not with any of the men she knew, anyway. But it would just be nice to do a face pack or watch some trashy TV without having to pre-empt his reaction to it. He wasn’t doing anything wrong and he had been a complete gentleman. Everything was perfectly pleasant between them.

Jet’s labyrinthine eyes emitted a barely concealed heat.

Rebecca did not want pleasant any longer, that much was clear now. She found she was being almost locked into the force field of vehemence that was flowing from him.

Fortunately, the venom in them was not directed at her. The sharp placed glance was to the cowering waiter, who came running.

Jet was ready to make his order.

“Three steaks, extra rare, chips and the garden salad please”

If his date did not have the foresight to load up on calories before a night with Jet Black, then he would have to do the thinking for her. The night he had planned, she was going to need the energy.

The terrified waiter darted off, too petrified to even stammer out a response.

“Wow, are you hungry or what?!”

She asked, the faintest curve of a smile darting at her moist red lips. Jet almost licked his own back in anticipation.

“Oh, darling, I am always hungry.”

He thought she was never going to come. Just like he predicted, this one was going to be extra work.

But so worth it, panted Jet, as a bead of sweat trickled down and landed with a splat onto bathroom tiles of the hotel room. He hadn’t felt anything as deeply as this in ages.

Accidentally he caught sight of himself in the gold-rimmed mirror. Christ, he needed a shave, again.

But it was rather more than a mere five o clock shadow that had been passing over his face. Just then, for a moment, a ripple of hair ran all over his visage, thick and black.  Up and down his arms and reaching his hands. His tan darkened visibly. It was just for a second, then, with a frown, he got it under control and it faded back into the stubble that was so eager to grow.

This didn’t usually happen to him. Not with the moon being where it was in its cycle. Jet didn’t like losing grip of himself like this. There was no doubt; there was something unusual about this one. But still, she was human and would be quick to alarm if he suspected something was awry.

However, Rebecca did not see, as her head was still buried within his shoulder, where she had been clinging on to him, as if for life.

Tightly she had held on, for what might have been years, but was definitely, at least, some hours. To the point where an intense cramp had plagued her at one point and she had cried out with the pain.

But the pain was good. Like the strength of the compulsion that had brought her to this hotel suite – after the very briefest of introductions. Suddenly she was pinned against the olive green walls. Or was it him that she had in a headlock as he had covered every inch of her torso with his rough cheeks. It had been an excited blur and even such a short while afterward; it was still difficult to piece together every shape of their encounter into the full jigsaw.

God knows what had come over her. She wasn’t even intoxicated.

Rebecca took a cool sip of water from the chilled bottle and tried to think about what to do next, except, she didn’t really care.

It was still dark outside and the intensity of waves was only matched in a frenzy of seemingly never ending seagull squawking.

All she really wanted to do was lie down, with him and quell the emptiness she still felt. But Jet did not really seem like the sticking around until breakfast type of guy. She was guessing. It wasn’t like she had really done this sort of thing before, but he clearly had and she was slowly beginning to wonder if this had been such a good idea.

Gently he untwined her thick black curls with his fingertips as he stroked her impressively large derriere. She was so unlike the other stick thin, skinny human women downstairs in the restaurant, all straightened hair, shiny tans and false nails, the type that he usually ended up with. They satisfied his desires, for a while, he supposed. But really, they were only the appetizers. This girl, she was definitely the main dish.

Rebecca re-fastened the silver necklace back around her neck just as she climbed into the enormous white silk bed. Thinking, it was better to do this now than risk losing it in the crevices of some hotel room.

“It’s ok to put this back on now?” She asked, “I never heard of anyone with a silver allergy so bad.”

His skin had turned pallid at the mere brushing of his face, by the heart shaped locket. He’d almost snapped the chain in half in his attempt to get it away from him.

To her intense surprise, Jet winced slightly and disconnected his hand from her hair that he was stroking lightly.

“If you must,” he said, a little stiffly. “I know how much your Dad meant to you”

The locket had been an 18th birthday present from her father and was just about the only thing she had with her from the States to remind her of him. It was over ten years since his passing; Rebecca couldn’t believe it had been so long sometimes and that he had never even seen her graduate from high school, never mind go to Oxford and then get a doctorate in human biology.

She fiddled awkwardly with the clasp for a minute or two. It kept sticking. She meant to get it seen to but never had gotten around it.

“If it bothers you that much I won’t...” she said, giving up with the fastener and slipping it into her purse, which was strewn next to her panties on the floor.

Then she stopped what she was doing and frowned. She couldn’t remember telling Jet anything about her father. Then again, she couldn’t remember telling him anything at all. There hadn’t been much time for the niceties over the last couple of hours.

She stirred herself to make it back onto the bed, still clutching the necklace. Inadvertently she had thrust her bum into his immediate eye-line. And he liked it.

“No don’t move. Or talk... or anything”

The huge peach colored buttock literally filled Jet’s face from one side to the other, as she turned to move from being on her hands and knees and he didn’t want anything or anyone interfering with it.

Immediately, he was back on top of her, this time, down on the floor. He grasped the damn locket and tossed it fervently across the room, like someone flushing something gross down the toilet bowl.

“Hey!” Rebecca protested, but turning back around quickly to find him not just kissing but caressing her hair like a madman.

The lights in the room were turned down low, but a glint from the bathroom exposed the rawness in his face, the heaviness of the brow and the snarl beneath his breath.

In that instant, Rebecca knew exactly who she was dealing with. But she was not about to stop this surge that were both still experiencing. It was like some raw form of energy. Perhaps they would cover it in the paper she was writing, a bizarre life force that seemed to have its own battery supply, and no off switch.

Wolf or no wolf, she was not about to press pause on her feelings when they had finally broke back into life after such a long absence.

Within seconds he had pushed himself into her for a second time and, this time, there would be no let up until the gray light of dawn dimly punctured the seascape.