Words from Day 18 of Writing - Lunar Wolves: The Unwanted

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Day 18 was the day the assignment for my next contract arrived, and I moved from working on just one project to splitting time between two. Each project was given three hours of time and I was quite happy with the results...at least, for a time...

Starting Words: 66,505

Finishing Words: 70,413

Words Written: 3,908

Other Words: 3,866

Other Project/Project Aspects Advanced: 2

Excerpt: In which Lewis and Rohim learn more of what happens when a were stays in wolf form for prolonged periods of time.

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Lewis breathed a sigh of relief and finished his plate. Seeing Oliver’s was also empty, he reached across to take it.

Oliver’s lip lifted, and then he shook himself and handed it over. He caught Lewis’s look of surprise.

“You’re not the only one to find it difficult,” his alpha admitted. “That length of time in wolf form isn’t safe for any of us. Even the strongest find the simplicity tempting.”

“They do?” Rohim asked, and Oliver nodded.

Lewis carried their plates to the sink. He found Oliver’s words comforting and needed a moment to let them sink in. Even the strongest…

“Do werewolves eat dessert?” Rohim asked, his voice tentative.

“The human side of us loves dessert,” Oliver told him, “and Lewis and I are fortunate enough that we’re not allergic to caffeine or chocolate.”

Rohim paled. “I… I didn’t think of that when I bought it.”

Oliver smiled. “So it’s a happy coincidence then, isn’t it?”

He signaled Rohim needed to put his money where his mouth was, eyeing the food bag with a predatory stare. Lewis took a step toward it, and Oliver growled.

Rohim leapt up from the table. “I’ll… Let me get it for you.”

“It might be best,” Oliver admitted, gesturing for Lewis to come and sit beside him.

His eyes gleamed an almost phosphorescent silver.

“Make sure you serve him first,” Lewis told Rohim. “I want to keep my head.”

Rohim had paled. “So do I,” he replied, fervently. “I also want to keep my fingers…”

Lewis snorted with laughter. “This was easier when we were dogs, huh?”

Rohim nodded. “Not by much, but ‘yes’. I could work out where I fitted when you were pets.”

Oliver’s lips twitched into a small smile, but his eyes watched Rohim’s every move.

“Do you know how disturbing that is?” the man asked, waving the spoon he’d picked up to add cream to the large piece of pie he’d just sliced.

Oliver’s head moved as he tracked the spoon, and Rohim frowned, moving the spoon experimentally in one direction and then the other.

“If you don’t give me the goddamned pie,” Oliver growled, “I am going to rip your throat out.”

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Thanks must go to my cover artists, from left to right: Mihaela Voicu, Jake at JCaleb Design, and Moonchild Ljilja at Fantasy Book Design.

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