SFSD-X Short Story Smackdown

7. Wild Werewolf Love

There was nothing quite like the aroma of freshly roasted coffee on a dark, winter night in the middle of nowhere while pressurized steam transformed it into a rich cappuccino accompanied by the pittering of adoring heart beats.

It never got old. Even for a rock-star, thrill seeking mountain of muscle like myself after 150 years of life on this planet.

Mascara coated eyelashes batted my way from half a dozen teenage girls in the small café, but they were too young to be of interest to me. The only one who could grab a hold of my heart and take it home was yet to be found.

My mate. My one. My love was out there somewhere. I would find her, I had to remind myself while the barista who was barely shaving yet fell madly in love with me. I gave him a wink.

My band members were in the bus – we had a big gig tomorrow and would be driving all night. But I had the lyrics to a love song running through my head to write.

"Are you Jeffrey Jones? Lead singer to Summer Sun?" a girl with too much cherry-bomb lip gloss asked me, sneaking up from behind. I knew she was there of course; my hearing could pick up the termites in the foundations of this joint.

"Yes, I am." I gave her my rock-star smirk. To the chorus of 'Oh, my gawd' screams, I quirked my full lips to perfection for the pictures that would arrive in 3...2...and snap.

"Girls, I'll sign everyone's tee—" I broke off my sentence, attention seized.

Into the café stepped an angel, smelling of jasmine perfume and fruity shampoo. One whiff of her scent, and time froze for a moment. She was tucking a loose strand of brunette hair behind one ear, her chin was down in shy confusion, and a book was in the crook of her arm. A bookworm who didn't know how beautiful she was. And she was at least 20, maybe 21, so that made it perfectly acceptable for her to be my mate. As adults, the age difference of 130 years was practically nothing.

"Your double cappuccino, full cream milk, extra foam and cinnamon sprinkles to go is ready," the young barista said, his voice breaking.

"Thanks," I said. My sense of smell guided my hand to my drink, because I couldn't let this yowza girl out of my sight for even on second. She was my mate. She didn't know it yet, but she belonged to me in the bondage of fated love. A love which would rage with animalistic abandon as soon as possible, if I had any say in the matter. Which I did.

She crept up to the counter, book protecting her chest. "I'd like a—"

"She'll take what I'm having," I told the crushing barista.

"But what if I don't like what you're having?" she asked.

I scoffed. "Try it and tell me if you don't like what I have to offer." Adorably unsure of herself, she wrapped her gloved hands around mine to tilt the cup to her naturally pink lips. I let the full strength of my masculine pheromones pour from my body, willing my angel to experience the lava heat of my desire.

She coughed. "That's really good, actually. Do I know you? Aren't you Jeffery from Summer Sun?"

"Our souls have met in the halls of the ancient gods and now our bodies have met and will come together like the waves to the shore, like two magnets when held close together, like a woodpecker and a tree. You are my mate!"

"Are you serious? This is so intense. I don't know. I'm not sure if I can believe you, but then again, you are so hot, how could I not believe you?" she asked.

I shrugged. She had a good point.

***

The gorgeous rock star was leaning in for a kiss! He wanted to kiss me! I was a jumble of nerves and shaking hands. Why did he even find me attractive? Glossy brown hair, trim figure and my nose always in a good book. At 21, I had no experience with guys because, well, obviously I wasn't pretty enough to attract any attention!