Weremones (17 page)

“It’s too late for that, Darlin’. Wait here while I deal with your knight in a starched shirt.”

With that, he exited the saloon. Diana could feel the other patrons’ eyes boring into her back.

She flushed, mortified. She
never
drew attention to herself. Drat that werewolf!

Well, she wasn’t going to stand in the middle of a smoke filled bar while everyone listened to second rate country music and speculated about her personal life.

Diana marched to the exit and pushed the door open enough to slip through to see the fight.

Outside, her eyes widened. The spotlight provided by the parking lot floodlight illuminated the accountant and the werewolf.

Who knew Bob could move like that? Huh. An accountant with a black belt. It even made sense, in a Clark Kent/Superman kind of way.

Too bad Bob didn’t have the super speed and stuff he’d need against a werewolf.

Adam was predatory grace, toying with his prey. He avoided Bob’s well placed punches, easily sidestepping each attack.

In a blur, Adam’s fist shot out, connecting with Bob’s shoulder with a solid sound. Bob stumbled back. He shifted his feet and moved into a smooth defensive stance.

Diana released a breath. She should have known that Adam wouldn’t kill a human. With his supernatural speed and strength, he could have already ripped Bob’s arm’s off and beat him with them.

Reaching out to Adam through the pack bond, Diana found a solid stonewall. No emotion. He was all calm control, centered completely on the task at hand.

She shook her head in an effort to clear her own mixed emotions.

Since, there was no more danger to Bob than his ego being trounced, both of them could do the testosterone tango together. Bob was as guilty as Adam. She wasn’t some damsel to wait in the wings for the winner to carry her off to his cave.

Ugh. Neanderthal jerks.

Disgusted, Diana used the distraction of the fight to slip away into the shadows of the trees. Behind the saloon, she crossed a picturesque little bridge and headed for the street.

She realized that Adam was going to come after her when he was finished humiliating Bob. Right now she was so furious that she didn’t want to speak with either of them. What she needed was a way to hide from Adam’s super senses.

Well, she was a psychic wasn’t she? Maybe she could do more than feel other people’s emotional garbage. She’d never tried. Mostly, Diana focused her attention on suppressing her abilities, not exploring them. Now seemed like as good time as any to try something new.

Diana thought about the witch that had come to place protection spells around her house. She had paid special attention to making Diana unnoticed to supernaturals while at home.

Think, think, think
.

Diana tapped her fingernails against her forehead in the effort to drag the information to the front of her brain. What had the witch said about how they detect psychics?

Ah-ha
! Scent.
This should have been a no-brainer considering she was trying to avoid a werewolf.

Diana took a deep breath and went through her mind clearing exercises. She envisioned a bank of mist surrounding her, flowing from her chi, using the natural energies of her body to erase the evidence of her passing.

Doubts whispered the impossibility of what she tried. No one could erase her scent. She squished the thought. Doubt ensured failure.

Using her body as a starting point, and working outward, she dissipated the molecules that connected to her into nothing.

Diana held the images in her mind while she dug out her phone, intending to call home. She’d get Karen to pick her up in the car. She stared at the phone in amazement.

She pushed the On button again. The screen stayed blank. The stupid thing was dead!

Diana disdained cell phones. She paid a couple of hundred dollars to keep one of those pay as you go thingies active for a year. She didn’t waste the time on it for trivial things, like calling to find out what kind of ice cream the kids wanted from the store. She didn’t really have a use for it, except for emergencies, where she kept it stowed away in the car with its charger.

Lovely. So much for the emergency cell phone.

Diana sucked in a calming breath. No problem. She’d walk over to the supermarket and use the pay phone. Then, Karen would come and get her.

She double stepped over the iron and wood footbridge and across the lawn to the buckled sidewalk as fast as the three-inch torture devices on her feet would allow.

At the corner, Diana took a breath. She lifted her hand to the stop sign for support.

Note to self: Never ever wear three-inch heals while taking a midnight run.

It wasn’t actually midnight, but without streetlights it was dark enough not to quibble over semantics.

The roaring engine of a motorcycle caught the breath in her throat. The blending of more of its brethren made her gut clench.

“Damn,” she whispered.

Frantically, Diana looked around. Should she hide?

To an average small town bred and raised girl, the sound of a motorcycle meant one of two things. Number one, Elvis, James Dean, and every other sexy bad boy to come across a movie screen. Number two, the villains out of a low budget seventies movie.

Your basic pirates on wheels, doing the raping and pillaging thing before the small town sheriff takes care of things.

Diana sucked in another breath and decided to go for it. The supermarket was only a block away. She hopped off of the curb and darted to cross the road, tripped and sprawled on the pavement.

Three headlights found her. She tried to stand, only to have her ankle give way beneath.

“Owww.”

The motorcycles stopped in a loose circle around her.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Diana blinked in the bright glare of the headlights. She couldn’t see, save for the dark silhouettes of some very large men straddling their motorcycles.

A mix of danger and curiosity emanated from the trio.

Diana swallowed, hating the way her voice squeaked out.

“Sorry, I tripped. I’ll move out of your way.”

Another of the bikers laughed, a hoarse choking sound that skittered down her spine.

Diana felt like a trapped animal while she struggled to her feet, staring at the hunter. Only one leg supported her weight.

“Dog. Looks like you pegged a lady.” One of the silhouettes said to the first biker who’d spoken to her.

“Need a lift?” Asked the one named Dog.

She choked on exhaust while her senses filled with the tainted flavors of lust and hunger. The need to hunt.

Either because of her psychic abilities or familiarity with the species, Diana knew that raw, vivid full-color emotions she was picking up were from weres. Maybe werecoyotes, maybe werewolves.

Don’t run. Don’t run. Diana repeated to herself. That would trigger their instincts to chase, like what had happened in Dogwood Park.

At the park she’d felt both the coyotes’ then the werewolves’ need to hunt. Her own fear and adrenaline had done the rest. The boys had only been playing a game, a weird game of tag. The coyotes had been after more than the thrill of the chase.

The dark emotions from these men chilled her, made her ill to her stomach. These were not playful boys out for a run. They were grown men, looking for trouble, and they’d found
her
.

Since Adam hadn’t found her yet, and he no doubt would come looking, thanks to his possessive nature, Diana assumed that her hide the scent trick had worked. Good news, and not so good news, since she was going to have to deal with these guys on her own.

Diana pushed her fear back and locked it away. She didn’t need to smell like food as well as look like it. Her ankle throbbed, sharp jabbing pains that radiated up her leg.

She wobbled but didn’t fall.

“Ah. No thank you. I’m, ah, making a run to the store. Ran out of milk.”

Milk? She wanted to slap her forehead. Polite, yet stupid. That was her. She gestured at the back of the supermarket, where the parking lot lights glowed invitingly.

So close, yet so far.

What idiot city planner decided against streetlights on this corner anyway?

She blinked and raised her hand, covering her eyes, as two more motorcycles, roared into hearing. The newcomers pulled around, completing the circle.

Calm, Diana thought, trying to quiet the rapid beat of hr heart. Fear, would only antagonize them. And she was positive she couldn’t walk, much less run.

Like that was a smart idea anyway on her swelling ankle. Neither could the dratted shoe come off while she stood in the middle of the street waiting to become road kill.

She thought about calling Adam through the pack bond, dismissing that idea as soon as it filtered through her brain. Since she’d never tried that trick before, she didn’t want to expend her energy on what might be a wasted effort. That energy might be needed to save herself.

She ignored the little sneering voice that was her conscience taunting her.
Pride goeth before the fall.

Besides, Adam Weis might be like these guys, but there was only one of him and five of the bikers. There would be no one for the boys if anything happened to him. She couldn’t leave the boys unprotected because of her mistake.

Her best bet was to bluff her way out. Diana suddenly wished she knew how to play poker. She couldn’t even beat one of those stupid handheld video casino games.

God, she was so screwed.

“Um, don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you guys have somewhere you’re going.”

She gave a weak wave that wouldn’t topple her precarious balance.

“Goin’ huntin’ girlie. Heard there was plenty of game here,” said Dog.

Sex and innuendo filled the biker’s words. Dark emotions of the same ilk clung to her like slime. Laughter and the rev of engines gave the situation the perfect evil punctuation.

When the racing motors died back down to an idle, Diana heard a sound from behind. Or a lack of one as an engine shut off. She didn’t want to take her eyes from the leader, but also couldn’t bear the thought of being caught from behind.

A deft kick brought down a kickstand. The hardy rider canted his bike, dismounting with fluid ease. His partner pulled in close and followed suit.

Wolf, she decided, watching their movements. Whatever monsters the other three bikers were, these two were all wolf.

“Yo, Dog,” The deep voice was friendly. “We can’t hunt this one.”

“Shut up, Chase. I’m pack leader here,” Dog snapped. “Unless you want to Challenge.”

Chase’s snort was full of derision.

“You’ve got to have a real pack for a real Challenge. Besides,” Chase’s companion added. His voice was surprisingly melodious and full of soul searching charisma. “The female is a psychic, and I for one do not intend to have my death warrant posted.”

The wolfman with the lovely voice finished his dismount and practically glided into the circle with her. He stopped behind her, close enough she could feel the feverish heat from his body.

She blinked and stepped away, more of a bobble than an actual step that didn’t take her any further from him.

The first of her would-be rescuers, Chase, was a god clad in simple leather pants that hugged his body. The shadows defined every muscle. A leather jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, while his height towered over her. A long braid slithered over his shoulder as he leaned forward to sniff her hair.

Even in the dark, his eyes gleamed gold, a reflection of the light from the motorcycles’ headlamps.

He sneezed, and then shared a covert look with his companion. She felt the heat from beside and behind, but did nothing. What could she do anyway? Scream like an idiot?

She felt curiosity from them, the need to hunt, but not the dark lust that oozed from the others, especially Dog.

Her heart pounded like it was trying to escape her chest. She swallowed, trying not to break the uneasy quiet and stared at the patch on his, Chase’s, jacket of vicious snarling dog surrounded by flames. Its nose was too square to be a wolf. She wasn’t sure of the colors but it looked evil enough for a bunch of werewolf bikers.

“You think you can lead the Hell Hounds,
bitten
?”

Chase shrugged. The movement flowed into a grip on her elbow that she didn’t see coming. She jerked, stifling a scream, but he held her still, as if purposely steadying her.

Screw it all, Diana thought. This was the second time tonight she felt like the meaty bone in the middle of a dogfight. She was scared, but now she was getting ticked off.

“Let go. Leave me alone.”

She added a psychic push to her words, throwing a mental jab at the man. She tried to pull away. He jumped a little at the unexpected assault, but held tight.

“Well, well, well.”

Surprise and pleasure coated Dog’s voice like sewage. Uh-oh. Diana felt the group’s interest go up several notches.

“Nothing like a piece of tail with a bite. Tank bring the bitch here. Chase never could get it up when things got interesting. Even for a challenge.”

The dark hunger and lust, not only for sex, but also for other foul deeds, left her feeling dirty in places a bath would never clean. Dog scented the air, obviously enjoying the fear she radiated.

“Be quick Tank and I’ll even share. You ain’t had nothing until you’ve had a psychic.”

Tank, of the sexy voice, laughed. The deep silky sound that wrapped around her.

“That’s not a good idea either.” His tone was perfectly reasonable. Who wouldn’t want to agree with that low voice?

“The female’s been pack marked, Dog. If she goes missing, not only will the local Canis place a werewolf posting on the Internet. He’ll come after her himself. Personally, I’d rather not have Weis on my tail after what he did to Garrick Moser and every adult in that pack.”

The hair on Diana’s neck rose. She wondered exactly what Adam had done to be old pack leader. Then again, some of the images she’d gotten from boys were pretty bad.

The purring of the motorcycles’ engines filled the silence while Dog considered the argument. Tank had her vote, even without the psychic persuasion she felt threaded into his voice.