Page 6 of Crimson Heart

“Regulars?”

“No. Boss wouldn’t tolerate guys like those on a regular basis. But we do get people like that in here from time to time.” She shrugged. “They had quite a bit to drink.”

“Guess that explains why that guy thought he was a ten.”

The bartender leaned in. “I think you’re the ten.”

There was a moment of silence between them, while the pretty blonde locked eyes with her. Charlotte’s breath hitched. This woman was coming on to her. She didn’t want to upset her. After all, she’d backed her up rejecting unwanted attention.

“Shame you’re not batting for my team,” the bartender finally said. “It’s okay. Just thought I’d give it a try.”

Charlotte smiled back. “I’m flattered. But, you’re right, I’m not into women.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “But I’m not into guys like that either.”

“Guys like that are the reason I’m glad I’m a lesbian.”

Another customer waved at her.

“Excuse me.”

As the bartender served the new customer, Charlotte took another swig from her glass. She hadn’t met many gays or lesbians in her life. Homosexuality was a subject that wasn’t discussed much within the werewolf society. In fact, she’d never knowingly met a homosexual werewolf. She only knew of rumors that werewolves who came out as gay or lesbian were shunned by their pack. In fact, the rulebook of the Werewolf Alliance stated that homosexual werewolves could not be affiliated with the organization and would be expelled. She found this edict outdated and unfair, but then, she wasn’t the one making the rules. And right now, she wasn’t particularly happy having to live by them. Because, despite this being the 21st century, women within a werewolf pack were still ruled by the men around them: first their fathers, then their husbands. So much for independence.

It suddenly got busier in the bar with a whole crowd of people arriving at the same time. With a wave to the bartender, she got up and headed for the door. She’d had enough to drink for one night.

The night air was damp and cool. It was mid-March, and California had been getting warmer, but apparently, San Francisco hadn’t gotten the memo. Wisps of fog rolled over the streets and the sidewalk; headlights from the cars cut through them and parted the fog. It looked as if somebody was pushing the fog against the buildings, where it seemed to disperse.

Ignoring the cars and the fog, she turned in the direction of her motel—and froze instantly. Three men came toward her. She recognized them: the man who wanted to buy her a drink and his two wingmen. Judging by their leader’s grim expression, they wouldn’t heed her warning. And why should they? They had no idea that she was a werewolf and therefore infinitely stronger than the three of them combined.

Annoyance charged through her. Fighting them would mean she’d get dirty, her clothes would get stained with not only the grime of the street but also their blood. And she hadn’t packed many clothes since she was supposed to be gone for only two nights.

“Really?” She gave one slow shake of her head. “If you get my clothes dirty, I’m gonna get really, really pissed. And you don’t want to see me pissed.”

“You uppity bitch,” the ringleader said. “We’ll show you what happens to women who don’t show me the respect I’m due.”

“You’ll regret this,” she replied and readied herself, glad that she was wearing boots, not heels.

“I won’t, but you will,” he said before motioning to his two friends.

The two men moved toward her from their respective flanks, clearly attempting to cut off her escape routes, while the jerk who couldn’t take no for an answer went for her head-on. Before he could reach her, she kicked her right leg out, landing it in his midsection, catapulting him down the sidewalk. The other two now rushed her, attacking from the sides, each of them attempting to grab her arms. She managed to push one of them against a wall, disabling him for a brief moment, but the third asshole yanked her in the other direction with such force that she lost her balance and would have fallen on her ass if somebody behind her hadn’t caught her.

“You jerks should fight against somebody your own size,” the stranger behind her growled.

For some reason, the sound of his voice went through her, infusing her cells with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was pleasant, despite the situation she found herself in. And despite the danger, the man who’d just injected himself into this uneven fight was in.

“Run, save yourself,” she ordered the stranger, keeping her eyes on her assailants, before he put her firmly back on her feet and finally entered her field of vision.

It took her less than a second to recognize what he was: not a human, but a werewolf in his humanoid form. His aura was unmistakable, though invisible to anybody but a preternatural creature. She didn’t get more than a glimpse at him before her three assailants were charging against both of them now. She almost felt sorry for the three humans now: they had no idea what they were dealing with.

They came toward her and her fellow werewolf, still thinking they had a chance. One of them pulled a knife from his pocket. As if he could do much harm with a little switchblade. She went straight for the jerk with the knife, gripping his wrist and twisting it so hard that he let out a pained scream, and the knife clattered to the ground. Before he could land even one blow, she kneed him in the nuts, making him double over, crying out in pain, though this time the cry was muffled, indicating that all air had rushed out of his lungs. She gave him another shove and tossed him against a wall. When his body made a loud thud accompanied by a moan, she pivoted.

The stranger was fighting the two humans, alternately kicking and punching them. Occasionally, the humans managed to land a blow or a kick, but the handsome werewolf didn’t even break a sweat, nor did he moan or show any sign that the hits caused him any pain. He was a sight to behold: dark hair that was longer than was the fashion, a stubble beard, and a body with muscles in all the right places, without an ounce of fat on him. A body that she wanted to touch, not to punch or kick, but to caress.

“You planning on leaving some for me?” she asked as she sidled up to him.

“Up to you. I can take them both if you want to sit this one out.”

It wasn’t a boast. She could see that he could knock out the two humans easily.

“And deprive me of the fun of pummeling these idiots? Not a chance!”