Three years later…
Nine hundred and one.
I grit my teeth and swallowed the bile threatening to rise as I stared at the headboard, focusing on counting the grains in the fake wood.
A spike of pain hit my hip as the john grunted and the sound of slapping skin grew erratic. Nausea surged and tumbled in me but I kept my eyes trained on the wood pattern and counted another four distinct lines.
Three years ago, I was Glenda, the eldest daughter of Alpha Adam of the Fluorite pack.
Since then, I learned that my pack had been destroyed and the land that used to belong to the Fluorite pack now belonged to the Warhammer pack, led by the Wallber family.
They claimed that a plague had taken out the entire pack and there were no survivors. They were liars and it was clear that they had orchestrated attack.
What I don’t understand is why. We had money, but we weren’t that powerful. Ben Wallber, the alpha of the Warhammer pack, could have easily brokered a deal between our packs to the benefit of us all.
Thanks to him, my name is Cherry, and I am a prostitute. My main goal is to get close enough to the Wallber family to learn the truth of what happened three years ago.
“Fuck!” He cried with a final thrust. He was still then pulled out. I was relieved at the sudden, vague emptiness and slipped across the bed towards the bathroom.
I shifted out of his reach quickly.
“Where are you–”
“I have to pee,” I said, avoiding that wet, flabby mouth that aimed for mine. I hurried into the bathroom, closing the door, locking it, and turning on both spigots. I bowed over the sink with a sickening heave of my stomach. Fever rushed over me and the world spun a little. The scent of cheap, industrial cleaner fluttered into my senses as I tried to focus on my goals.
Find out who in the Wallber family was responsible for the Fluorite massacre. Find my little sister, Angelia, and make everyone involved with it pay.
“Wallber. Angelia. Revenge.”
The thoughts settled me the way they usually did, bitter, furious, and hopeful as I rested my head against the cold, silver mirror, trying to catch my breath.
It had been nine hundred and one days of this. I dared not meet my gaze in the mirror as I tried to pull myself together and stop shaking.
The sooner I got rid of him, the sooner I could start forgetting this night like all the others.
Nausea died down as I flushed the toilet for effect. I washed in cold water; the blistering cold eased the fever and made me focus as I chanted in my head to keep steady.
I took my time drying off just to make sure I had a handle on myself before I opened the door and walked out.
This john was splayed across the bed like an overstuffed king, leering at me as his minuscule cock stirred. I was grateful that it was negligible. It made it so much easier to ignore his satisfaction and count.
“Cherry, you hot little thing,” he grinned. “Why not extend our time a little, hm? I’ll tip double.”
I crossed the room to pick up my clothes and put my bra on as quickly as I could manage, but not too quickly. I had to seem aloof, not desperate to escape. I was slipping my shirt on when the bed creaked with his weight. His arms wrapped around my waist and I went still as he pulled me back against the softness of his belly, sliding his hands over my hips and squeezing my ass.
My stomach lurched.
“I know it’s just an act,” he whispered in my ear. “I know you enjoy it. How about triple?”
His human stench wasn’t any worse than a werewolf, but it irritate me on an instinctual level. I could tear his head off without a fuss even in my weakened state. I wanted to ask if that was part of the thrill for him.
I wanted to tell him that no amount of money would make me willingly even be in his presence, but what would he care? He would just complain and buy someone else. How would it serve me other than undo all my hard work?
One complaint from a customer was like a death sentence at Larry’s.
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