Marked By the Wolf (Werewolf Romance) by Mac Flynn Page A

wondering why I wouldn't take my cute boss out for a date. It's because I wasn't ready for commitment, and it was against company policy. One of us would have to quit our job, and I knew it wasn't going to be him. With that sort of ultimatum, it would be a hell of a commitment on my part. I'd be taking all the risk and he'd reap all the benefit of me. If things went south so would my bank account balance, and with student loans to repay from a college degree I still hadn't found a use for I just couldn't take that risk.
    "I figure if I play the slots long enough I'm bound to win," he commented.
    I stood and patted him on the shoulder. "Maybe, but I gotta go. See you tomorrow." I walked out as the clock struck five and didn't look back. If I had I probably would've stopped myself from leaving and thrown myself into his arms. If I'd known what trouble lay ahead for me I definitely would have thrown myself into his arms.
    Since I wasn't a psychic and didn't have spider senses, I walked out of there and left the building and work behind me. My favorite place to relax was a nice pub five blocks off the busy part of the city. That was where the electronic billboards advertised flashy clothes and designer breast jobs. The first I didn't look good in, and the second I had covered with my curvy body.
    I took a taxi to my favorite pub, stepped out of the car, and looked up at the dark night sky. The streetlights kept the stars from shining, but nothing except the buildings could keep that full moon hidden. It smiled down at me and I smiled back. It was an old friend, after all. I'd seen it a lot during my long twenty-five years of living. Soon it was about to become an intimate partner in my life.
    I strolled down the sidewalk and stopped in front of the pub. The name of the place was Public Pewter, and the game of the place was to get drunk. I opened the old oak door and stepped into a different world. The establishment was done up in mid-seventeenth century coach inn-style complete with wood paneled walls and a bar made from a single slice of giant log that ran along the entire back wall. There were the modern conveniences of a dance floor, jukebox, and every type of beer in the world on display on the wall behind the bar.
    I took my usual table in the far corner. It was a dark spot where I could watch everyone without being watched. I pretended I was an anthropologist studying the mating habits of the local inhabitants. Most were the customers very primitive, and some of the pickup lines were even worse. A minute after I sat down a waitress brought me my usual drink, the caffeinated soda, and left me to my studying.
    The night was the usual rambunctious antics. People danced, got drunk, tried to dance, fell down, and laughed out the door with a pretty girl, guy, or both under their arms. I sat in my corner watching humanity make a spectacle of itself, but not all of it was funny. There were tender moments of couples walking in hand in hand and kissing over a plate of salsa and chips. An old couple came in and danced slowly to a rock-n-roll song, but even with the drums and guitar playing in the background the tender magic was still there. It made me regret not saying yes to Johnny.
    The old couple just left when a young guy slipped into my booth. He was a little taller than me with a thin nose and a goatee. His clothes were clean but simple, and he constantly played with a expensive-looking old coin in his left hand. I figured the shadows meant he hadn't seen me. "The booth's taken," I spoke up.
    "I know, but I thought maybe you'd want some company," he replied.
    "Depends on the company," I quipped. I looked this man up and down, and wasn't sure I liked what I saw. He gave off a vibe that rattled me, and I wasn't usually rattled.
    He shrugged. "I don't think I'm that bad, and I've got a great party we can go to." The man turned to me with a crooked smile. "It's uptown and you get to rub elbows with a bunch of high-society folks."
    I