Bite Me (London Undead) by PJ Schnyder Read Free Book Online Page A

upper lip and snarled right in her face.
    She stiffened. “Here now, no need to be mean about it. I’m tired is all.”
    There was that nice bit of temper. Relief washed through him and he relaxed his hold on her just a touch.
    “Does anyone stop you doing this sort of thing? Ever? Really, you should let me down and go do...wolfy things.” Her voice had taken on an irritated edge.
    Wouldn’t be fun to let her go on too much more. Only one person ever argued with him and his medic wasn’t there. Besides, Danny would’ve held the door open and gone with to have a pint of beer.
    “There’s a pub around the corner.”
    “There’s a pub around every corner in this part of London.” She grumbled, and then her belly rumbled louder.
    Chuckling, he carried her down the hallway and out the door.
    “Oy. I can walk.”
    “I forgot your crutches.” He kept his tone deliberately flat.
    She glared at him.
    He grinned and kept walking.
    “We should have locked up.”
    Ah. He wasn’t going back. “Should be all right this time of night.” He’d text a patrol from his pack and have them watch the place for a few hours. “We’ll go back and lock up after your stomach stops trying to eat you.”
    She wiggled—testing his hold on her, he’d bet. Little chit would hop right out of his arms and try to make a break for it if he gave her half a chance.
    He grinned wider.
    “What’s all that about?”
    “You’re amusing.”
    She quit struggling and crossed her arms over her plump breasts. He couldn’t help but notice her nipples had grown tight in the cold. Her shirt and bra were worn thin.
    “Now what? You’ve stopped with the smiling and gone back to the brooding.”
    He glowered at her, even though he felt a smile teasing his lips. “I should have thought to get your coat.”
    “Don’t have one.”
    Well, then... “Why don’t you have one? And don’t tell me it’s because you like the cold.”
    “Why do you wear one? The cold doesn’t bother you as much, being a werewolf. You said as much earlier.”
    She blinked big grey eyes at him. He narrowed his own at her. She didn’t drop her gaze. Stalemate.
    Amusement, rather than rage, ran through his system. He gave her a little toss, grinning when she squeaked in surprise, and resettled her in his arms as he continued down the empty street. No dangers lurking in the shadows, only the rubbish and remains of what used to be a busy city.
    “Do all werewolves like to mess with people?”
    He cocked his head to the side, considered. “We all like a good game once in a while, about as much as a good fight.”
    It’d been a long time since he’d felt like playing...anything.
    “Do you fight a lot? I mean, aside from zombies. The news broadcasts on the telly always has some new bit about you all ‘taking out the zombie threat.’” The last bit was a fair imitation of one of the popular newscasters who stayed in London specifically to cover the infestation.
    “We don’t fight amongst each other, if that’s what you mean.” He considered for a moment, then drew his eyebrows together. “Not all werewolves are honorable, mind you. I can only speak for my pack. My pack doesn’t waste time with in-fighting because I lead them. If there’s a challenge for a place in the hierarchy, it will be a dispute sanctioned by me.”
    And to disablement or death.
    He always made the decision based on the circumstances. Humans might not understand, but there were some hard decisions he had to make for the good of the pack. Disputes couldn’t be allowed to fester.
    “So you’re the alpha.” The words didn’t bring him back to the conversation as much as her sudden stillness in his arms. He’d even stopped walking.
    He gave her a brief nod and started toward the pub again. It really wasn’t that far, but he’d been enjoying the walk so much, he’d taken her on around the block.
    Funny. She hadn’t protested.
    “Have you always been the alpha?” A soft question, one