Page 42 of My Boyfriend Bites

Thank you for not calling her a dog.

Selene’s nose twitched at the smell of food. She’d reached the dining section of the ship. It made her think of the news article about the other cruise line boarded by pirates. They’d planted themselves in the eating areas and forced people to hand over their valuables.

A human would have avoided the dining room and its threat.

Her wolf?

It didn’t know the word fear and wanted to act.

She trotted toward the main buffet restaurant, processing what she could see, given there appeared to be a few lanterns. First, she noticed the legs of two men standing in the entrance, blocking anyone from leaving. The next thing she spotted, people huddled at their tables, food getting cold on their plates as they trembled and oozed in fear. Her final observation that came with a belly growl? The prime rib really smelled good.

A second sniff relayed the fact the invaders held firearms. Guns could kill, but only if they could aim and actually hit their target.

Too fast for that.

Wolf logic. But Selene couldn’t do anything to change it as her lycan bunched its hindquarters and slammed into one of the men guarding the dining room.

He flew forward with a shout, and his companion whirled, gun pointed, finger on the trigger. Too slow. Too late. Selene gripped the weapon and yanked it from his hands, dragging it with her as she moved deeper into the dining hall, which was still pretty full of diners.

Despite their number, pretty much no one had their phone out and shining bright, most likely because of the pirates making the rounds, grabbing everything of value to stuff in their looting sacks. Her nose counted eight invaders in the room, which included the pair screaming from the doorway.

“Someone shoot that fucking dog. It stole my gun!” a very irate pirate yelled.

“What dog?” barked a guy holding a lantern, which he’d apparently had on the lowest setting. He turned up the dial and ignited the glass dome with the lumen strength of a zillion candles. The bright light highlighted Selene in all her furry glory.

As eyes widened in shock and awe, she struck a pose and uttered a menacing growl. The diners cringed appropriately. The pirates however… Weapons diverted from the passengers to aim at their new target.

Faced with guns, she did what any self-respecting lycan would do before getting ready to fight: She howled.

Translated into human words:Die!

While her wolf wanted to lunge at those threatening, Selene pushed hard a single thought,Get the light!

Destroy the illumination and her foes would be at a disadvantage.

Her wolf leaped to a table, causing patrons to scream as her paws scattered dishes and cutlery—she might have gulped a piece of meat on her way, too. The noise caused chaos, but even better, the pirates hesitated to fire. Shooting at her would most likely hit the people close to her. Was that why they held back? If they were in cahoots with the vampire draining people on board, did their instructions include keeping their boss’s meals alive?

While they made up their minds on whether or not to pull the trigger, Selene leapt to another table, and then another, before she could pounce on the man aiming the portable sun.

The lamp and the holder of it went down hard, the latter smacking his head firmly enough he didn’t move—the cracked and leaking skull probably the reason for that. As for the light?

Darkness descended, the kind that initially left eyes blind until they adjusted. Selene’s wolf didn’t have to wait. She went on the prowl, pouncing and biting, not playing with her prey, because the quicker she took them out, the less likely she’d get shot. Not to mention, the faster they went down, the faster she could get some more of that yummy red meat in her belly.

One by one, she lunged at the pirates, knocking a burly male in the knees before giving his neck a crunch. Leaping to place her paws on another’s chest and huffing hotly in his face before ripping it off.

Amidst the screams and pandemonium as passengers chose to flee, gunfire finally erupted, the sharp cracks random as the pirates shot in panic.

The noise helped her pinpoint those with trigger-happy fingers.

She made sure they died.

By the time the last pirate in that dining room hit the floor, those brave—or scared—enough to let survival instinct take overhad fled. Others huddled under tables or on the floor hugging their knees, the tableaux of traumatized people a psychiatrist’s wet dream.

With the threat neutralized, Selene took a moment to gulp down a few slices of juicy and still very red prime rib.

Delicious.

She padded out of the dining area on the hunt for more prey when she ran smack-dab into Dante. A low growl rumbled from her throat.

---