Page 6 of Howl for the Gargoyle

He reached for me then, hands grabbing at my hips as the door clicked shut. I tensed as my back hit his chest, humidity and heat from our fevered skin making the air around us muggy and thick with our scents.

"You want this?" he asked, kicking his hips forward, grinding his crotch into my ass.

My chest rumbled, even as I rolled my eyes. Unfortunately, yes, I thought, my body rocking back into his. I reached back, grabbing onto his T-shirt collar and pulling hard. He grunted and followed the yank as I twisted out of his hands, turning us to face one another. Pain pricked at my fingertips, claws wanting to burst out and dig into this man's flesh. I pushed at his chest with the heels of my hands, ignoring the human part of me that bristled at his smug laugh. He stumbled back, bumping into the benches between the rows of lockers.

I stepped forward, ready to push him to sit, to step out of my tight leggings, to shove his shorts out of the way, but he shook his head.

"Nuh-uh, you're not in charge, babe," he said, his voice crackling as it lowered.

We reached for each other at the same time, and this time he had the upper hand, spinning me to the lockers. The metal doors rattled as my palms hit them, bracing.

"This'll be easier," he said, more to himself than me.

And then his fingers were hooking into the back of my leggings, pulling them down over my ass, his body crowding around me to push me closer to the lockers. A handle ground into my hipbone, and I snarled as he wrestled with his shorts, fumbled between my legs. He was right, this would be easier. Quick and simple, and we could redress faster if we were caught. But I didn't like having this stranger at my back.

I bucked as he tried to guide his cock into me from behind, and he laughed again.

"Jesus, you're so fucking wet. Horny little bitch, aren't you?"

"Fuck off," I growled, throwing my elbow back into his chest, needing to take control of the moment again.

He grunted, and I knew at the moment of impact I'd used too much strength. It was too close to the full moon. I was reckless. This was stupid and dangerous. He fell back, and I heard the shout, the bang, the slap of flesh on tile as I turned. I'd shoved this poor guy into the benches and sent him toppling back.

"What the fuck?!"

His pants were down, cock out, and his legs were sticking up, his shoulders and head against the lockers. He'd tripped backwards over the bench and crashed down to the floor.

"What is your problem?" he shouted, groaning as he tried to sit up.

"I'm" —a monster— "sorry," I gasped out.

I didn't wait for him to get back up. I was still throbbing, and the wolf in me wanted to climb over the bench and hold him there, ignore his protests, and take what I needed.

But the full moon was tomorrow, not tonight. I used the fragile fraction of control over myself I did still have. I pulled my leggings up and ran, grabbing my coat from the locker I'd stashed it in, and rushed out of the gym before he'd gotten himself up off the floor.

It was late, and pure luck to see a cab approaching the corner of the block. Salvation. I leapt off the sidewalk into its path, heart clapping in my chest as the tires screeched to a stop. There was no sign of the gym security or the man I'd essentially attacked coming from the building, but I tore the door of the cab open and clamored inside. I was more afraid of myself than I was of the consequences.

"Sheffield and Roscoe."

The cabbie's eyes flicked up, widening slightly. He knew where we were headed, and I wondered if he might throw me out. I wouldn't blame him. I could run there, but the cab would be faster, especially when the driver wanted me out of his backseat as soon as possible.

The light turned green, and he was rough on the gas pedal. I collapsed with a sigh, my eyes falling shut.

"Full moon's tomorrow," he said, as if to reassure himself.

"It is," I said quickly.

The rest of the ride was silent. My hands slid into my coat's pockets, finding my wallet and phone with a faint and absent sense of relief. I'd find a new gym. I'd stop going out before full moons at all.

I would…

I had put Natalie's suggestion out of my mind, blaming it on the wine and Natalie's enjoyment of throwing people off their guard. But what if…?

The cab pulled to a stop outside of the shelter, an old hotel that'd been reinforced and refurbished to suit werewolves on a full moon. I paid with a generous tip and slid out the back of the cab.

"Be safe," the driver called, and I'd already shut the door before I could answer.

The lobby of the Lakeview shelter was deceptively cozy, like it was trying to fool those of us who visited that we might just curl up in one of their plush green wingback armchairs and sleep through our transformations.

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