Black Wolf's Revenge Read Online Free Page B

on the couch, she was fragile and naïve and childlike again.
    He cocked his head to the side. When they’d met, Wolf had terrified her. She hadn’t even been able to look directly at him, much less hold a conversation with him until the night Alexis had Turned Morgan. For all the months of fear, it was strange that she felt safe enough around him to fall asleep in his den.
    He didn’t want to wake her, so he turned the television down and covered her with the red down blanket that was draped across the back of the couch. He collapsed in his sheetless bed and passed out just as the light of afternoon shifted to that of evening.
    Moments later, someone shook him awake. Bright green eyes hovered over his face and he lurched straight up in bed. “What’s wrong?”
    “I’m hungry,” Marissa whispered.
    Panicked, he searched the dark. Where was he? Where were the trees of the forest and the clean breeze?
    “You’re home,” she said, cowering to the edge of the bed. “Everything is okay. I just need food.”
    Slowly, his muscles relaxed and he rubbed his hands over his face. “What you need is to go home. Let me find my keys.”
    “I already called Dean, and he said I can stay over here if I want to. Logan and Jason are still there, and I don’t want to deal with them.”
    “You have to deal with them sometime,” he snapped. “They are in your pack, so you are bound to run into them sooner or later.”
    She arched her eyebrow. “I still need food.”
    “Fine. We’re going out though. I can’t stand being cooped up in here anymore.” He needed to build a house and right away. Living as a wolf for a couple of weeks had greatly skewed his view on living in his cramped city apartment.
    The tiny diner down the street with the eye-scorching neon sign and black and white checkered floors would have to be good enough. The food was terrible there, but it was the only close place he could think of that he hadn’t taken Morgan and Lana. When they slid into the sticky seats of a booth, he ordered them a couple of root beers and flicked the menu in front of his face to deter conversation.
    “Have you ever heard the phrase every werewolf has a sob story?” Marissa asked.
    He peeked over the menu and narrowed his eyes at her. Maybe he’d been wrong about her ability to take hints. “No,” he said with a sigh. “Why?”
    “Did Dean ever tell you why I’m here?”
    “Like why you are here on this planet?” he asked, confused.
    “No, why I’m here in this pack. I’m from Nevada originally.” At his blank stare, she pressed on. “Okay, did you ever hear about a serial killer a few years back in Nevada? It was before your time, but he was a werewolf, a man-eater, whatever you want to call him. He went on a huge killing spree through three states before the Old Ones were able to track him down and end him. They called him the Lady Killer, because that’s what he was.”
    He dropped his gaze back to the menu. Werewolf story time didn’t interest him any more than the picture of greasy chili-cheese fries featured on the plastic in front of him.
    “Well, he liked little girls. They were sort of his specialty.”
    “Marissa,” he said, putting his menu down. “Is there a point to this story, other than to kill my appetite?”
    She huffed a sigh. “His name was Raul, and he was my maker.”
    “What can I get for you,” a burly waitress with eye-scorching white teeth interrupted.
    He leaned back and motioned for Marissa to go first. He needed a moment to recover from her dark confession before he spoke.
    Marissa pursed her lips as she plucked at the lamination that had come apart at the corner of her menu. “I think I want a number seven, but could you hold the peppers?”
    “That sounds good. I’ll have the same, but leave the peppers on there. Thanks.” He smiled stiffly through his sunglasses and handed the waitress his menu.
    The waitress sauntered away and he leaned forward. “What the hell,