How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf (Naked Werewolf 1)

As Eli wheezed his last breath, Cooper sank to the ground, resting his chin on his paws. With a deep breath, he phased back to his human form, blood spattered across his face and neck. Maggie followed, rising unsteadily to her feet and offering me an awkward little wave.

Cooper stumbled toward me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his face against my stomach. I stroked his back and murmured, “I know this is a bad time for ‘I told you so’ . . .”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “You were right. I wasn’t homicidal. I was wrong.”

“Let us hope that all of our arguments end this way,” I said, rubbing soothing hands down his still-tense muscles.

Maggie snickered, cradling her arm to keep the weight off her injured shoulder. Still, I could see the bite mark fading. Her skin was reknitting itself before my eyes.

“I’m glad to see you,” I told her. I took off my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Never thought you’d say that, huh?” she asked, grinning cheekily.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Maggie tracked my hunting party down. And after she made it clear that she wasn’t planning on doing me any long-term damage, we had a long—”

“Incredibly long,” Maggie muttered.

“—talk,” Cooper finished dryly. “And we straightened some things out.”

Maggie said, “I wanted to believe the worst about Cooper, because it was a lot easier than seeing how I might have hurt him. And Eli saw it, fed right into it. I let Eli blow so much smoke up my skirt I’m surprised I don’t have ass cancer.”

“Eloquent.” I snorted.

“And I didn’t exactly man up and stick around to explain myself,” Cooper admitted. “I used Maggie as an excuse to stay away.”

“And you didn’t answer your phone during this long heart-to-heart. Why?” I asked.

Cooper winced. “I left my cell phone at the camp. I didn’t get any of your calls.”

“We started putting the pieces together, all the times Eli played me like a cheap violin,” Maggie said, blushing slightly. “And we wondered why. If he was as reluctant to lead as he said he was, why was he finding ways to keep Cooper away? We started talking about you, Pops’s heart attack, the attacks in Grundy, and it all just started clicking. Eli taking little trips into Dearly, the timing of the attacks—it all matched up. Cooper went back to the camp to let his clients know he was leaving. And he heard your messages. When Cooper realized you were here alone with Eli, he just about lost it. It’s the first time he’s ever outrun me.”

“I’m glad you finally beat her at something,” I told him.

Maggie sighed dramatically. “He’s going to be impossible from now on, you watch.”

“What do we do about this?” I asked, nodding toward the prone gray form. “How do we explain?”

“He’ll stay in his wolf skin,” Cooper said. “I’ll take him back to the pack, tell them what he’s done. They’ll give him a proper burial. I’ll be as kind as possible. They don’t need to know every detail, just what he tried to do to you, to the baby. For that alone, I had a right to kill him.”

“What about his family?” I asked.

“Eli’s sort of the last of his line,” Maggie said. “His dad died when we were in high school. He takes care of his mom, our Aunt Billie. She’s been really sick lately. Alzheimer’s. The pack will take over for him there. We take care of our own.”

“No regrets,” I told Cooper when I found him staring at the ground. “No torturing yourself. No guilt.”

“None,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around me. “I guess I’m going to have to marry you now,” he muttered, his chin tucked over my shoulder.

“My parents aren’t even married,” I scoffed.

His warm hand closed over mine, skimming it over the belly that would be full and round in just a few weeks. He sighed, snuffling at my neck. “Please marry me, Mo. Raise our baby with me.”

I leaned into him, nuzzling his neck. “I have one condition.”

He sighed again, much more content this time. “Shoot.”

“We pick a normal, traditional name for this kid. The baby is going to have enough to deal with, what with the whole half-werewolf deal. So, no flower names, no tree names, no gemstones, no names of musicians who asphyxiated on their own vomit, no intellectual ideals as middle names—”