Marcus cradled his beer protectively in his hand, lifting his arm above the people around him. They were packed like sardines inside the bar, and he desperately needed some fresh air before he snapped and growled at someone. He’d been bumped from behind one too many times tonight, and he wasn’t exactly in the most peaceful frame of mind. Reaching the back of the bar and the door marked ‘Private’, he turned his nose up and fought the urge to sneeze at the strong odor of coyote.
“Goddamn coyote bastard.”
He grinned at the surprise the coyote had in store the next time he stepped out into the parking lot. Marcus hadn’t been able to stand the overpowering scent of coyote so he’d done a little marking of his own territory in the parking lot-in wolf form, of course.
Sure, he respected the man, and they’d met a time or two in the past, but facts were that Texas was a coyote, and Marcus was a wolf. They didn’t really get along that well.
Although, he’d take a coyote over a human any day. The ones crowded into the bar tonight had no respect for personal space or decorum. Fuck, he couldn’t stand this.
Curling his lip, Marcus sidestepped a lady wearing a tiny bit of lace over a stupid excuse for a skirt. She batted her eyes up at him in what she probably thought was a seductive expression, but it only served to make him want to slap her upside the head and tell her to go put some damn clothes on. This night was fast turning into a waste of time.
“This is why I fucking hate coming out in public,” he muttered. The woman stopped with a smile, probably thinking he was talking to her, and Marcus beat a hasty retreat.
He was just about to leave the bar, his promise to Cody that he’d stay the night be damned, when the sweetest scent drifted close to him. Marcus froze, ignoring the body that bumped into his back—and the accompanying curse—to try and pinpoint the scent.
He turned, raising his nose and drawing air deeply into his lungs. Almost instantly, his cock hardened, testing the limits of his jeans. Christ, he hadn’t had that happen since he was a randy teen, popping wood at the slightest breeze.
Snapping his head to the right, his gaze was unerringly drawn to the small man making his way through the crowd. He moved sinuously, gracefully, stepping around people without touching them. His right leg dragged briefly and Marcus frowned.
A low growl came from deep in his chest. He cursed silently, trying to grasp control of his wolf. He couldn’t let it take over in a crowded bar, but it took everything in him to stop from plowing through the crowd and screaming for the assholes around the man to move out of the way. What the hell was wrong with his wolf?
The man had his head tucked down so it was almost uncanny how he seemed to know where to move next. The low light in the bar wasn’t the best for seeing the man’s features, but Marcus felt that they were arresting. Although, it wouldn’t really matter if he looked like the ass end of a Coyote. He was about ten minutes away from belonging to the big, bad wolf in the bar. Marcus stepped forward, making his way closer to the man, uncaring of the people he was cutting off.
Stripes of brown, ochre and black hair tufted up around the man’s face, with a little black M shaded in the hair right above his forehead. Marcus had only ever seen that on…wait. Being closer to the man made the subtleties in his scent intensify. He smelled like a cat and he looked like a tabby. |
