Full Moon Blues (Puppyville Pack) by Fel Fern Page A

with unnerving interest.
    “Nice doggy,” I begin. A huge mistake. The animal snarls, baring wickedly sharp teeth. “I mean wolf, nice wolf.”
    The werewolf comes closer and I don’t need to be an animal whisperer to read the intent in its gaze. This thing, this monster wishes me violence of the most unpleasant sort. I urge my legs to run, except I’m rooted to the spot. All my muscles seem paralyzed, no matter how hard I silently scream at them to move.
    Then the hard truth settles in. No matter how hard I run, I wouldn’t get very far. I’m only human. This werewolf is a killing machine and it’s out for blood and meat. Tales of rabid shifters ripping their prey to unrecognizable bits and pieces come to mind. Dying by werewolf isn’t the way I envisioned leaving the world. Hell, it’s everyone’s nightmare.
    A second bass growl returns me to reality. My mouth goes dry as I spot another bastard enter the scene. He’s huge, larger than the first, and his fur is jet-black.
    “Oh God.” I can’t seem to say anything else. The sound catches the attention of the black wolf. He turns his inhuman gaze towards me. For a second, I imagine something close to human emotion settling there—surprise, then recognition.
    Maybe I’m delusional, but the sandy colored beast gives the black an answering howl of challenge.
    Then, the sandy beast charges at the black, fangs bared and ready for the kill. It takes me a second to realize these two monsters are fighting over who would get me first.
    Hell. If they think I’ll simply stay here gawking and looking pretty, they had another thing coming. Hearing their two figures collide, I scramble to my feet. I don’t hesitate. I break into a run. Now, I’m not a runner. In fact, I’m not what you call ‘sporty’. I’m the slightly overweight kid in high school who keeps thinking of creative excuses to skip gym.
    I don’t get very far. In fact, in five minutes or so I’m panting. My legs feel like they’re on fire. The black lets out a howl that suspiciously sounds like triumph. Even though I shouldn’t, I risk turning back for a look. The sandy wolf lies limp on the ground, either dead or unconscious. I’m betting the former.
    Why I stopped running I didn’t know. Maybe I knew this was the end game and the script says I’ll be at the losing end no matter how hard I try, or perhaps it was the way the black beast seemed to recognize me.
    “Don’t hurt me,” I whisper, but I’m pretty sure he hears it with his supernatural hearing.
    Under the kiss of moonlight, fur ripples and recedes to human skin. A man replaces the beast—a very naked and gorgeous specimen if I may add. My mouth goes dry. I shamelessly rake him with my eyes from top to bottom. His face is cloaked by shadows, but I glimpse the hint of stubble under a stubborn jaw and eyes that glow golden under the moon. I drag my gaze lower, licking my lips at his wide shoulders, well-defined arms, his lean pecs and six-pack, before I catch sight of the monster dangling between his legs.
    His cock is thick, long, erect and pointing towards my direction. I swallow, thinking I’ve never had anything of that size in me. A part of me is yelling, telling me to keep on running, but that logical part is slowly being eroded away by the primal side of me. The part that wants to get down and dirty, that keeps on walking towards the stranger instead of backing away.
    There’s an indescribable magnetism drawing us near.
    “Are you going to hurt or kill me?” I ask, finding my voice.
    A laugh, deep and rich, rolls out from him. Something about that laugh reminds me of someone, and I understand why. My heart begins a gallop, for reasons different from fear.
    “That’s the last thing I want to do to you, Lee Jones.”
    The sound of my name jolts me back to reality. Only inches separate us now. I finally put a name to that face. James Travis. My high school crush, and the golden boy quarterback of Stone Valley high. James