Holiday Wolf Pack by Bridget Essex

Author:Bridget Essex [Essex, Bridget]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-12-14T00:00:00+00:00

Howl for the Holidays

“You want how many extra espresso shots?” The barista stares at me with huge eyes, as if I've just asked him to fill up a kiddie pool with coffee.

Hmm. A kiddie pool full of coffee.

I...would be totally fine with that.

“Eleven shots extra, please,” I say, giving him what I hope comes across as a nice, normal smile—with a nice, normal amount of teeth.

My mother always warns me that, before I've had my coffee, I'm in danger of making mistakes, of accidentally revealing what I truly am.

But come on—aren't we all wolves before we down our morning cup of joe?

“Sure. Eleven... Sure.” The barista marks the cup with a Sharpie and avoids my gaze, which makes me think that my smile may be slightly more pointy than I'd intended for it to be. I don't carry a purse, which means I don't carry a mirror, so I just frown a little and touch my tongue to my incisors. Nope, still normal, human-shaped teeth.

So what's this dude's problem?

He must just think I'm weird for wanting eleven espresso shots.

Maybe I am, but usually I ask for twenty.

Here's something you need to know about werewolves: we're strong, fierce, fast, and smart (and loyal—we get that from our canine cousins twice removed), but coffee helps us be all of these things with more energy.

I guess we're a little like humans in that regard.

I toe out the closest chair at the closest table to the pick-up-your-coffee area and check my wristwatch, nose wrinkled with worry. Okay, whew...I'm still way ahead of schedule. I set my alarm for four o'clock this morning—and then I put the clock on the other side of my apartment so that I wouldn't be able to throw my pillow at it and ignore its annoying scream.

I have time to wait; I'm just impatient. My leg jiggles, and I fold my hands over my belly, leaning in the chair and balancing it on its two back legs. I want to get to my mother's house before the holiday traffic really hits. Plus, Mom is holding her annual Christmas Eve fundraiser, and she's hinted to me more than once that she's going to need my help to make sure it all runs smoothly.

Call it a hunch, but my wolf instincts—or maybe just past experiences—tell me that I'm in for a long, long holiday break.

“I have espresso for Georgia!” the barista calls out, lining up several large paper cups on the counter. The pleasant scent of the espresso merges with soy milk and vanilla syrup, and steam curls toward me like a beckoning finger. I stand, rising almost to my toes, following the scent kind of like a cartoon wolf chasing after the perfume of a gorgeous lady: practically floating.

Wait...

Wait just a second.

I stop floating, stand grounded on the balls of my feet, tilting my nose up in the air to catch the aroma of something besides my delicious espresso.

Then I turn, gazing toward the rest stop's automatic doors.

Yeah. The scent's clear as crystal.

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