Page 63 of Fighting Furry

I wasn't going to get a better moment than that. I lunged, jaws wide, straight for the pulse beating in his neck. I bit down and tore, and the cold, iron-tinged blood filled my mouth. My jaws clamped tight on his neck, and I pulled and yanked until I'd removed his head from his body.

It wasn't until I'd shifted back to human and looked down at the grotesque corpse on the floor that it hit me. I'd just killed a man. A man I knew very little about, a man who hadn't been doing much more than attempting to control me for his own purposes.

I bent over and retched, losing everything I'd eaten over the past twelve hours. I stared at Jeremiah's broken body and the blood coating the floor. I was the monster now. I was a killer. I was also still the captive of a pack of frat-boy werewolves who were working with vampires who could control me with a look and a bite. I needed a plan and I needed one quick. Later, I could freak out and cry, right now, I needed to get out of there alive.

My clothes had been shredded by my shift and I was covered in blood, but it would probably be a pretty good look for my plan.

I straightened my shoulders and opened the door, pretending a confidence I didn't feel.

Jeremiah had been so sure he would subdue me, he'd left the door unlocked. I opened it and walked out into the bright sunshine. Heat beat down on my bare back as I scanned the lawn, looking for vampires or werewolves. No one was there. Damn, they had severely underestimated me.

I marched to the back door of the house, and found it unlocked. There was no one in the mudroom right inside the back door and the kitchen was empty. I heard laughter and music from upstairs, but my stomach grumbled. I needed food, or I wasn't going to last long against anyone.

The kitchen was pretty nice, with granite counter tops and a fancy rack for pots that hung over the center island. No pots hung from it. It was decorated with bras and a dildo someone had painted a face on and hung from the center of the rack.

The counter tops were covered in something brown that would probably be sticky if I dared to touch it. I figured it best to touch as little as possible in that place.

The fridge was filled with beer and dried out, expired condiments. I shut the door and sighed. The freezer was full of frozen dinners, none of which looked remotely appetizing. Unfortunately, I didn't have much choice, I needed to eat.

I ripped open one of the t.v. dinners and stuck it in the microwave.

“Well, well, this is the sort of thing I like to see when I stop by,” a male voice said.

“Is it?” I asked in my sweetest voice, still facing the microwave. “I'm so glad.”

His footsteps pounded closer and I could hear his breath pick up speed. He smelled like werewolf, with a side of body odor. Did he really believe he was about to get lucky?

I waited until I knew he was close and then I spun, giving him the smile and crazy eyes I'd used in the UFC cage. He stumbled back a step. “Holy fuck,” he said. “What happened to you?”

“I ripped off Jeremiah's head, because he tried to force me to do something I didn't want to do.”

“Are you serious?” he asked. “Does Alpha know about this?”

Something crashed upstairs and the punk in front of me, a well-muscled guy in khakis, a polo, and boat shoes, jumped at the sound. I paused, wondering if the folks upstairs had figured out there was a problem. The laughter that followed set me at ease.

“I haven't told him, yet,” I said. “I need to eat. Can you be a doll and order me something?”

He looked around like he was expecting help to walk through the door, but it was just me and him. “Are you joking right now?”

“I need you to pick up your little phone and call in an order for pizza, a lot of pizza. Do it and I'll consider not pulling your intestines out of your body through your nose.”

“Dude,” he said with a shudder. “Way too graphic.”

But he pulled out his phone, dialed a number and ordered three large pizzas with the toppings I listed for him. I was feeling preternaturally calm, which I knew wasn't going to last forever. I should be running out of there and heading back to LA, but I'd just killed a man. I was in this now, and I wanted to know what the hell was going on. Plus, I didn't have clothes or a car, so I was a tiny bit stuck.

Speaking of that. “You should give me your shirt now.” I didn't really want to wear the guy's stench of BO, but it was better than naked. Probably.

“What?” he asked. “No fucking way, I—”

“Give me your shirt,” I said, using the alpha voice.

He glared, but he pulled off the neon green polo and handed it over. I yanked it over my head, holding my breath, and it fell to mid-thigh. I smiled at him. “Thank you, kindly.”

The microwave dinged and I pulled out my dinner. I ripped off the plastic and started pulling out drawers, looking for a fork. There was all kinds of junk in the drawers, but no forks. How did these people survive from one day to the next?

“Where are the forks?” I asked the preppy asshole who was still standing there staring at me like I was a zoo exhibit.

“Huh?” he looked a bit dazed and I wondered if he was high.

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