With his car parked by the side of the road, Jules Gutierrez lowered his windows to let out the smell of cigarettes and take-out. He inhaled a lungful of fresh air and sighed. The refreshing smell of pine caressed his nostrils and he let his eyes devour the picturesque view. Two towering straight rows of pine trees and oaks lined the wide-swept road that led to New Haven, and beyond them rose the breathtaking Blue Mountains the town was famous for. For a moment, Jules imagined what it was like running through those uncharted woods on four legs with his mate by his side and the wind caressing their fur. After the run, he imagined lying down on an untouched bed of freshly fallen autumn leaves with Cole’s rough unshaven cheek pressed against his neck while his fingers drew lazy circles on his mate’s bare chest. Then grief would rip out his still-beating heart and he’d remember that Cole was dead. Murdered with no ounce of finesse, like an animal in a slaughterhouse. Cole was the reason why Jules had been unable to sleep and why he’d always been on the move.
What do You think about His Bacon Sundae Werewolf?
