One Night with the Werewolf (Indecent Monsters #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

EMELIA

Ithink that maybe the day things were over with Jason was the day I thought he had the same good looks as his dad but none of the charm.

But I hold out. I’m a holder-outer. I will loyally wade with you into the storm if I think we have a good reason.

After four years of dating Jason, it would take a lot for me to want to leave him.

I see him as my future husband, my partner.

He might not be the best boyfriend in the world, with how he forgets important things in my life, and he doesn’t communicate well.

And maybe we don’t live together thanks to Jason’s stonewalling, but I love him, just like I always have.

Like I always will, because that’s the kind of person I am. Loyal to the end.

I guess I just didn’t expect the end to come so soon.

I’m lucky that my birthday falls on a Saturday this year, so no one will be rushing over from work or thinking about where they have to be the next morning. No, on this twenty-sixth birthday, I’ve just gotten a fantastic promotion at work and I am ready to party down.

As always, we meet at Elroy’s, our favorite bar.

Jason and I come here all the time, and it’s one of the few places we hang out besides his house.

I always go to his place because he doesn’t like my roommate, Arin.

I’ve never understood it—Arin is clean, polite, and a naturally generous person—but I’ve respected it.

Maybe it’s something about the fact Arin can shift into a unicorn at will.

So instead, I make the trip to his apartment most nights, which is a bit of a bummer as his roommates are all human men and don’t take particularly good care of it. I’m lucky if I find only one sock on the bathroom floor.

Naturally, Arin is here at Elroy’s with me, as are my other friends from college, Becks and Harry.

Then two friends from work show up, too: Kim, a human with pink hair, and Kimmy, a gorgon with the most lovely array of snakes on her head.

Kimmy doesn’t actually like the name “Kimmy” outside of work, but otherwise we would have no way to distinguish her from Kim—who was there first—and she hates “Kimberly” even more. So Kimmy it is.

It’s so exciting to see everyone again that I jump from person to person, giving out hugs and trying to catch up quickly on recent life events. Of course, I just saw Kim and Kimmy yesterday, but it’s always wonderful to see them outside of work and let our hair down a bit.

Then boots click on the hardwood floors. I glance up to find a tall man striding into the bar, the bright evening sun making it difficult to discern his features. But I know his walk, the shape of his shoulders, the sound of the heavy work boots he always wears—it’s Jason’s dad.

He glances around when he steps in the room, frowning.

This is mostly a college bar, and the majority of the patrons are in their early- to mid-twenties.

He’s met us here a few times before for other events, like graduation or Jason’s birthday, but I know he must feel like a fish out of water.

Usually I see him at Jason’s apartment when he stops by, or at dinner when he invites us over to his house.

I pull away from my friend Harry to run over and greet him.

“Roscoe!” His head jerks as he turns toward the sound of my voice. I halt just before hugging him because we aren’t really on a hugging basis. I stick out my hand, and he gazes down at it with one eyebrow raised. Then, he extends his own hand, and we shake woodenly.

“Hey,” he says smoothly. “Happy birthday.” His stubble is thicker than usual today, a shading of salt and pepper across his jaw and chin to match his hair. He styles it with just a bit of gel, so it doesn’t look greasy but ensures his straight part remains that way.

“Thanks. I’m glad you could make it.” I went out of my way to invite Roscoe personally, knowing Jason would forget to tell him.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Emelia,” he says, his gaze trained on me. His green eyes are always striking with his dark hair. Jason got brown eyes from his mom, who I’ve only met once before. She lives in Indiana or Illinois or something like that.

I feel a blush rising in my face the longer we talk, so I quickly turn around and usher him to follow. “We’re sitting over here.”

Obediently, Roscoe follows along behind me, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets as we head around the bar for the two tables we’ve pulled together.

We might have to add a third when Jason shows up, especially if he brings anyone with him.

Sometimes his roommates will join us impromptu on an outing I thought was just for us.

I’ve gotten used to them being more or less appendages.

My friends all get up and greet Roscoe when he joins us. Awkwardly, he shakes hands with everyone before sitting down.

“You’re Jason’s dad, right?” Kim says, who’s probably the oldest of us besides Roscoe.

“Yup.”

“You look just like him.” Kim surveys him like a predator sizing up a fat steak.

“Works that way sometimes,” Roscoe says patiently. “He did get half of my DNA.”

Kimmy snickers.

Conversation pivots to Jason, who should have been here twenty minutes ago. He’s almost always late to things, though, so I’m not stressed about it yet.

We get all the introductions over with, and to my surprise, quiet Arin is the one who starts off the conversation by talking about the painfully hot bartender, a harpy with an incredible amount of jewelry.

We all laugh and agree that she’s an absolute smokeshow, and Kimmy starts encouraging Arin to go hit on her.

Unfortunately, they are far and beyond too shy to do such a thing, so Harry takes it upon himself to suggest one of us approach the bartender on Arin’s behalf, instead.

I love the sound of my friends all laughing together as Arin, flabbergasted, waves us off. “Oh, I would die of embarrassment,” they say, covering their face. “No way.”

We discuss plans for a new school to help young adults overcome social anxiety, which would clearly be a hit, but my attention wanders the longer we talk. Jason’s now almost an hour late, which is late, even for him.

But I try not to keep my eye on the clock. He must have run into something along the way. He doesn’t work on Saturdays, but there’s always construction in this town, especially in the summer. He might have been out hiking with his roommates earlier today.

I realize then that I don’t even know what his plans were. I was busy getting myself ready for the party. It occurs to me that maybe it’s odd my boyfriend and I didn’t do anything together on my own birthday. I just don’t want to come across as clingy.

More time passes, and my friends buy me more drinks that I sip on while I wait.

Luckily, Elroy’s offers great pub snacks, so we order plenty of fried food to go around and soak up the alcohol.

Martin, the bar manager, approaches me to say “Happy Birthday” and offers to play some of my favorite songs on the jukebox.

Roscoe is mostly quiet, his chair tilted back as he watches and listens without contributing. I hope he’s not bored with our chatter.

An hour and a half has gone by, and still no sign of Jason. Everyone but me is drinking and having fun, and while I’ve got my happy face plastered on, I’m worried. Did he get into a car accident? Did he just… forget?

Finally, I get out my phone and text him.

Hey, where are you? We’ve been here for a while.

But there’s no answer. I wait another twenty minutes, thinking maybe he was just driving, but still—nothing.

When I look up, I find Roscoe watching me.

“Hasn’t called or anything yet, has he?” It’s not really phrased as a question, because we all already know the answer: my phone hasn’t rung since he showed up two hours ago.

“No, but I’m sure he has a good reason,” I answer defensively.

Roscoe gives me a flat look. “Why don’t you call him up? Put him on speakerphone. I’ll make sure he gets over here.”

He says it like a command, and immediately I obey, tapping Jason’s number and setting the phone on the table as it rings. I hope I don’t regret this.

On the fourth ring, there’s a long pause and a huff of breath. Then Jason’s voice says—loudly—“Oh, hey.”

I cringe at his impatient, annoyed tone of voice, as if I’ve interrupted something important by calling.

“We’re all at Elroy’s,” I say quickly into the phone speaker.

“Hey Jason!” Kimmy calls out.

“Oh, what for?” Jason asks. His voice is slurred, like he’s been drinking. I hear a woman giggling in the background.

“We’re here for… my birthday?” Does he not remember at all that we had plans tonight? Does he even know it’s my birthday? I told him about my promotion yesterday, and how this was a celebration of me moving up in the world, too.

“Where are you, Jase?” Roscoe cuts in. “You should have been here hours ago.”

“Oh, hey Dad.”

The woman on the other end of the line says, “Come on, get off the phone.”

“Sorry,” Jason continues. “I didn’t realize your birthday party was tonight, Em.”

“Well, it is.” I try not to sound too put-out. He hates it when I talk down to him, which is pretty much any time I criticize him at all, so I try not to do it.

“Babe, can I take a raincheck? You’re with your friends, right?”

“Yeah, she is,” says an irritated Becks. She’s been quiet this whole time, but now she sits forward to speak into the phone. “We can all hear you.”

“Then you don’t need me, right?”

Roscoe glares down at the phone, his eyes like razorblades. “Son,” he snaps, “is there another woman with you?”

There’s silence on the other end. Then we hear a second woman in the distant background calling out, “Where did that wine go?”

“Maybe,” Jason answers with an awkward laugh.

Everyone at the table falls quiet. It’s obvious what’s going on, and I’m just the only one who’s not willing to admit it.

“Are you having sex with that woman?” I ask, dreading what the answer will be.

“Yeah.”

He just says it like it’s no big deal. Tears rush to my eyes as silence follows. My face is getting hotter and hotter, until I think a volcano might be about to go off inside me.

“I didn’t think I raised such a cruel man,” Roscoe says at last, his eyes traveling to me. “Cheating on his woman in broad daylight.”

I shake my head. I don’t want him to tear down Jason right now. I just want this to be over.

“Enjoy your… whatever you’re doing,” I finally say. “Don’t bother coming. Not that you were.” Then I tack on, “We’re over, Jason.”

Jason sighs, then the line goes dead.

He didn’t even have a parting word for me.

Nobody speaks as I pick up the phone and slide it back into my purse. The rock music playing in the background of Elroy’s continues as if nothing happened.

“This is bullshit,” Roscoe snarls, getting to his feet. “I need to talk some sense into that idiot boy.”

I grab his sleeve purely on instinct. He halts and glances down at me with his brows raised.

“Sorry,” I say, letting him go. “Just that it won’t do any good. You know what he’s like. You catch him with his hand in the cookie jar, and he’s going to pretend like the jar was never even there in the first place.”

Roscoe hisses between his teeth. Probably because he knows I’m right. Confronting Jason will do no good, and neither of us has any clue where he is anyway.

“I know what you need,” Kim says, standing up and waving an arm. “Barkeep! Another round for the birthday girl. She just dumped her boyfriend.”

I feel like I’m the one who got dumped, but I don’t correct her.

“Oh, damn, really?” The hot bartender from earlier hastily makes a pink concoction, even though I’m more of a beer girl, and brings it over to the table. “On the house. Sorry about the boyfriend.”

I give her a grateful smile and take the cocktail with fresh rosemary on top, which does smell really good.

Talking resumes at the table as I drink.

“What an asshole,” Kimmy says, crossing her arms. “I can’t believe the sheer disrespect.”

“I’ve never really liked him,” admits Becks. “Sorry, Em.”

I force a smile and nod, but inside, my world is collapsing.

Jason was my person. My everything. Or so I thought.

My friends go on to talk about all the things they never liked about Jason—which might have been nice to hear sooner in my relationship.

Meanwhile, Roscoe hasn’t spoken in his seat beside me.

But as I stare down at the table with tears in my eyes, a hand brushes over my shoulder in a soothing circle.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a low, scratchy voice. I know he was a smoker for a while, and you can hear it in his raspy tone. “My son is a fucking moron.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He sighs and releases me. “I want to say forget about him, but it’s not that easy. You two were together a long time.”

“Four years.”

We were fresh out of college when we met at a party. I feel like my first drunken hookup with him, when he came within two minutes, should have been a red flag.

I am very good at ignoring red flags.

“And he just pissed all over everything,” Roscoe says, shaking his head. “I want to say it started when his mom left, but I think he’s always been this way. Selfish and inconsiderate.”

Part of me is affronted that he would think of his son so poorly, but after tonight, I don’t think he’s wrong, either.

“Hey, you doing okay?” Arin leans over to check in. “Do you want to go home?”

“Don’t go home!” calls out Harry. “Fuck that guy! Spend the night out with your friends, huh? Let us treat you nice since he won’t.”

“Yeah!” Kimmy says, joining in. “We can show you a good time, Em.”

I glance around at all my friends, smiles on their faces, eager to have fun tonight. Then I look at Roscoe.

“You don’t have to come,” I say. “We’re probably going to the club or something.”

“Oh yeah? You don’t think an old man can dance?”

Shit. I didn’t mean to offend him.

“No, no, I’m sure you can. I just thought it might be boring, or…”

“How would going out to the club with a posse of hot young people be boring?” He grins. “Unless this is you trying to not invite me. Then I need you to be a bit more blunt.”

I shake my head rapidly. “No, no! You’re more than welcome. Right, guys?” I turn to my friends, and Kimmy is the first to pipe up, saying, “Yeah! Come on, Mr. Dad!”

“Name’s Roscoe,” he grumps, and everyone laughs.