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

with a pile more behind it he’d bet.
    “I wasn’t born a werewolf.” Why tell her from the beginning? Maybe there’d be fewer questions if he gave her the whole of it. No one around but her to hear anyway. “Werewolves born to a pack are stronger, faster. The alpha is always the strongest, smartest, of the wolves. Stands to reason the alpha is usually born a werewolf as well.”
    “But you weren’t.” So calm. How did her calm settle him? She was like a warm blanket—soft, comforting.
    “I’m old. It took me a long time to find a pack I could belong to.” He paused. Remembering. “A long time to find an alpha I could put my faith in, one worth following.”
    “I don’t suppose the former alpha retired to an estate out in Hampshire, did he?”
    Ah, the old wolf would’ve enjoyed that. Plenty of hunting, lots of rich snobs to drive crazy.
    “Werewolves don’t often take themselves off to a grizzled retirement.” No, they generally went insane, especially if left unbalanced by lack of a companion to ground them. Friend, mate, someone. “The anger, it grows inside us. Drives us mad, eventually.”
    He shouldn’t tell her. They’d been careful to give their best hero appearance to the public. They’d worked hard to hide the worst of themselves.
    A small hand spread flat against his chest, over his heart. “You’re not angry now.”
    The warmth of her palm seeped into his skin and deeper.
    “No.” He breathed deep, enjoyed the clean scent of her hair. Then he tossed her up in the air again and caught her close to his chest.
    “Oy!” She pounded her fist into his chest. “I’m not a ball to be tossing around here.”
    He could’ve kept walking. Maybe after they’d both eaten, he’d take her for another walk.
    The pub he’d chosen was one friendly to his pack. Convenient, really. He planned to include this portion of the pack’s territory in his personal patrols in the future.
    At the moment, though, he had a bundle of disgruntled moxie to feed. She’d fussed to be let down at the front door and he had acquiesced, letting her limp her way to a booth. Her grip on his offered arm had to be as much temper as it was necessity.
    She snarled almost as well as a Were.
    “Haven’t seen you in these parts in a while, Seth.” The barmaid stopped by as soon as they sat down. “You know we normally require shirt and shoes for service.
    He cocked his head to one side and gave her a nod of apology. “Sorry, Mel, hit a mess of trouble while I was out on a run. You’re not too crowded tonight.”
    “No, and we’re not too crowded any night lately. You can eat as you are.” Mel gave an indifferent sniff. “At least you appreciate the quality of our food.”
    Not many had the quid to eat here, even the honest pub food. Of those who could, many were rich tourists here to hunt zombies. They came in armed with too much pride and not much in good taste.
    Those with money had bought their way out of London before the quarantine had gone into effect and the military had established the checkpoints around the M25 beyond the city.
    “I’ll have my usual.” He looked at Maisie, who was studying the one page menu she must have nicked from the holder at the end of the table. “My...friend might need a minute to decide.”
    Before Mel could step away, Maisie piped up. “Oh no, I’m ready. I’ll have the haddock, please, and a side of mushy peas.”
    Seth raised his eyebrow. Maisie’s sweet smile, which she hadn’t yet given him, won an answering smile from Mel. The choice in supper probably won points too. His girl had a palate.
    Of course she was his.
    Content in the way Maisie seemed to have accepted his offer to buy her dinner, he slid a fresh glass of water across the table to her.
    “Hydrate.”
    She stuck her tongue out at him.
    He considered what he’d like to do with her sass, but got sidetracked by imagining what she might do with her tongue instead. He hardened at the thought and things didn’t