We have a hot guy for the Hot Seat, my lovelies. Mr. C.J. Sneere was nice enough to drop by and share his latest work of steamy guy-on-guy action with us. You may have heard of him. He’s gained some notoriety as the author of such works of blistering erotica as The Story of Jack and James, Barista Boys and Pumping Andre. So without further ado, I’ll turn you over to him. I promise he plays nicely…mostly.
Waking Up Werewolf
(Waking Up Werewolf Part 1)
Warren Lindstrom thinks he has it all. He’s about to come out to his girlfriend as bisexual and propose to her. He just got that new promotion at his job. But it all comes crashing down around him after he gets attacked by a werewolf, witnesses a murder, and meets a sexy vampire named Sid. Now Warren must help Sid’s ex lover, a troll who has been framed for the murder, and the best way to do that is to climb into Sid’s bed.
A new urban fantasy erotica series from C.J. Sneere. Welcome to the underground, where monsters rule and sex becomes an adventure.
Warren appreciated the perfect life he now possessed. He just doubted it would last. He chided the cynic in him for being unappreciative as he walked his and Tamara’s dog, Tulle–a Boston Terrier / Beagle mix who had to sniff everything within her path.
“That tulip smells the same as the last one you smelled,” he told the dog, bending down to give her short coat a pet. “And, anyway, tulips don’t even smell, do they?”
Yes, life was good. No, great. He’d just been promoted to head ad designer in his department at his advertising firm. Tamara had moved in with him six months ago, and their relationship had deepened. He’d decided it was time to pop the question. But, first, there was something Warren had to tell his girlfriend of two years.
It was time to come out of his closet and admit he was bisexual. If he and Tamara were going to spend the rest of their lives together–and Warren didn’t plan on getting divorced–then she needed to know everything about him. He wanted no surprises after they said ‘I do.’
He thought about their honeymoon as he and Tulle strolled down a walkway domed by hedges grown in arches.
“What about Queen Charlotte Islands, hmmm, girl?” The dog just sniffed another tulip and ignored Warren.
But he thought a trip to Haida Gwaii might be just the thing. He’d never seen the islands of his ancestors, though Grandma had told him what she remembered of Moresby. Even though he lived in Richmond, relatively close to the place of the Hadia Nation, it might as well have been a world away. Particularly when he was a kid, and he and Gran had to make due on her tiny pension and some left over from his parent’s insurance. He’d been a Surrey boy back then. How far he’d come, he mused.
Little Tulle stiffened, and the short hairs along her spine stood up. She curled her lip and focused forward as she let out a low, warning growl.
“What’s up there?”
Warren held the leash tightly and shielded his eyes against the harsh glow of the globular streetlamps. At first, he saw only darkness and hedges, but then something shifted in the shadows. Something with massive shoulders hunkered low at the end of the walkway. It rose up a bit, and he caught a glimpse of pointy ears atop a shaggy head.
“Hello?” he called, and instantly felt the fool for it. Haven’t you seen enough horror movies to know NOT to do that? he thought, then he turned on his heel and said, “Come on, Tulle. Let’s go home.”
But the thing at the end of the path growled, loud and ferocious. Fear tingled along the back of his neck. It zipped electric spikes up and down his spine. He picked up Tulle and walked faster.
The creature let out another angry snarl. Then it started to charge toward them. It’s lumbering gait made an ominous thuwp thuwp against the concrete sidewalk.
Warren put speed under his heels and ran. He dared only a quick glimpse behind him. “Oh fuck,” he blurted, when his gaze lit on a ball of powerful fur and muscle streaking closer.
Warren ran faster.
Claws dug deep into the meat of his back, tearing his t-shirt to shreds with an audible briiiiiiip. Tulle flew from his arms and landed on her feet. The dog took one look behind her, as if to say, “Sorry, dude!” and then she booked it out of there big time.
The creature smelled of wet dog and forest undergrowth. It sank powerful teeth into Warren’s shoulder and he screamed. He thrashed under the weight and strength of the beast, finally flipping onto his back and pinning the creature beneath him.
Warren reached behind him with one shaky hand, searching for his attacker’s eyeballs. With much effort, he managed to find them and jab a thumb deep into the soft, egg-like eyeball. The sensation was disgusting, but revulsion was the last thing on his mind. Survival occupied his every thought. He dug the thumb in deeper as the thing tried to thrash away. A soft pop sounded, and eyeball ran down his hand. The creature howled in pain and the claws in his back loosened then fell away.
Pain shrieked through the muscles of his back and neck. Warren touched the wetness that trickled down his clavicle. Blood, and lots of it, streaked his palm. Though his world was blurry, like someone smeared greasy fingers over his vision, he pulled a deep breath into his lungs, pushed down the weak feeling, and ran again.
The thing was in pursuit once more. He felt its hot breath on his heels. Warren thought it would take him down again, but then two gunshots sounded, followed by a whimper and a piercing series of yips. He turned to see the beast that pursued crumple into the green grass, just as he did. It looked like an oversized timber wolf, he thought, just before blackness bloomed over his sight, stealing consciousness away.
A short time later, face pressed in the cool, damp grass, Warren heard voices.
“Bastian will be happy we’ve brought down the rogue. That bastard almost got us neck deep in trouble with the humans.”
Someone nudged Warren’s knee with a foot. “Should we take this one back with us, too?”
“Nah,” the man paused, and the sound of a match striking filtered into Warren’s ears. “Underground’s already overflowing. We’re gonna have to dig new tunnels at this rate. Leave him here. I’ll call an ambulance on our way out. I’m sure he’ll find his way to us eventually anyhow.”
Warren felt too weak to stand yet. He let himself drift off as the two men walked away. The next sound that awoke him was the screaming siren of an ambulance.
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