THE LAST WEREWOLF
BRIDE
The Complete
Trilogy
By Sage Domini
Copyright 2013
Smashwords Edition
The Last Werewolf Bride:
Alpha Lust
The Last Werewolf Bride 2:
Mating Season
The Last Werewolf Bride 3:
With Wolf
All events and characters are
fictional.
Warning: Explicit content meant for
adults.
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of this author .
***
THE LAST WEREWOLF BRIDE: Alpha
Lust
M en would never lust
after me. I was used to that. I had made friends with a shower
nozzle and a battery operated lover I called Max. But tonight I’d
had enough. Liza was also a law student and the stuff of male
masturbatory fantasy. Tiny waist, blond hair, perky (fake!)
breasts. She tried to be nice, pushing me forward
impatiently.
“This is my friend, Jessa.”
But the two men who had eased over to be next
to her cast vague glances at my unimpressive form and let their
eyes drift back to Liza. I knew I wasn’t repulsive. But my thighs
were on the thick side and the loose enveloping shirts make me look
shapeless, sort of a fleshy female garden gnome. Liza was critical
of my choices, saying I had some great assets to work with. “Look
at those tits!” she had shouted with what I guess she considered
encouragement. “Work the mammaries.”
The sad truth was I wasn’t even trying
anymore. I had for so long been deprived of positive male
attention. I figured now that I was twenty four it probably wasn’t
going to get any better. I had only agreed to go out tonight
because Liza was nursing a fresh breakup and “needed a good fuck”.
It looked like she might have found at least one of those as the
two handsomely suited young businessmen danced with her in an
awkward sort of sandwich. The bar was crowded and loud, as bars in
college towns perpetually are. I cast furtive glances from the rim
of my Sex on the Beach. Liza was rubbing herself on a darkly
trousered leg. She closed her eyes in bliss as a wide-knuckled hand
slipped beneath her translucent blouse and moved in
circles.
I looked at my watch. It was only eleven. So
my choices were to either resign myself to a long night of watching
other people dry hump while growing increasingly sweaty, or else go
home to my apartment and waste a few hours on Netflix Doctor Who
episodes. No contest.
“Liza. Liza!!” I had to scream. She flashed me
a look of ‘what the hell do you want?’ annoyance. “I’m heading
out.”
Liza rolled her eyes. “We barely got here.
Jesus Jessa. At least try not to be such a rag.”
How was I supposed to answer that? The Suit
Twins watched me mutely. I imagine they were also wishing I would
disappear. Liza seemed to feel a sudden twinge of pity and reached
out to squeeze my arm. “I’ll call you tomorrow!”
I wasn’t sorry to leave the pulsing chaos of
the bar behind. My apartment was a three block walk away. It was
convenient to campus and The Avenue, a motley collection of bars
and clubs which were the heart of local night life.
People teemed outside the bar; kissing,
vomiting, shrieking. But by the time I had reached my street all
was dark and quiet. I had the uncanny sense of being watched, but
shook it off, reasoning that such feelings were what came from
walking alone in the dark. I looked up. The Man in the Moon looked
back. His silvery grin was full tonight. “Just you and me,” I
muttered.
I felt better once I reached my apartment. It
was a tiny studio but all mine. It was the first place which had
ever actually been all mine. I’d grown up sharing a room with a
pair of much younger cousins after my parents were killed in a ski
lift
Jean-Claude Izzo, Howard Curtis