Alex & Gwen: Moon-Crossed Lovers Part 1

By Georgia Luse

Alex is a Were wolf. Gwen is a vampire. Can their romance survive the machinations of the vampire court?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Georgia Luse
• Release date: Jan 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201377304

Book preview

Alex & Gwen:Moon-Crossed Lovers—Part One

Chapter One

I look up as I'm wiping down the bar at Mooney's, and my boss, Chuck, catches my eye. It's a typical fall Friday night in the college town where I live, which means that I had to park farther away than normal, in order to avoid the crowd. This isn't a big deal, unless it starts raining just before closing time, like tonight. Chuck signals me to head on out. I know you had to park in Outer Mongolia, as busy as it is. Go on, we're mostly done here.

I nod my appreciation and gather my things. As I'm about to step out into the heavy rain – more like a zoo than just cats and dogs – he asks what he always asks. Need a walking buddy, Alex?

And I respond how I always respond. No thank you, I'm tough. And we grin, and I pull up my hood, and I'm out, jogging into a downpour so thick I feel like I'm swimming. At least I'm not worried about getting lost. My car is approximately 5 blocks south and 7 blocks east of the bar's back door, no compass needed. About 3 minutes in, I realize that I'm being trailed. They're about 2 blocks over, but keeping pace with me. At this rate, they'll intercept me just as I'm about to get into my car, and I am definitely not okay with that. 

In order to collect my thoughts, and maybe throw them off a bit, I slow down and jog in place for a minute. I'm tired, and I'm hungry, and I want a bath, and this is weird. They've slowed down too, which leaves me in a bit of a mess. Do I keep on my original trajectory and hope that they're just tying their shoe, or do I change my path and take even longer in this cold damn rain when all I want to do is get home and wash the bar smell out of my hair? What the hell is this joker playing at?

Fuck it. I keep to my original path, but speed up a notch. The Other, as I've started calling her, him, or it, starts back up too, only going faster. Godsdammit, I am not in the mood to deal with someone out to settle some damn fraternity-row bet by trying to arm-wrestle me at 4am. I will win. Period. Get lost now, yes? 

But they're not getting lost, and they're not deviating from their path. OK, I am officially pissed. If whoever this is wants to screw with me, they could at least have the decency to do it in full damn daylight, or at the very least not in the rain. This is rude, and if there's one thing I hate, it's rudeness. Please and Thank you and honorable combat, dammit. 

So I do the thing that I do not normally do inside the city limits, and definitely not within eyesight of humans. But it's raining and everyone's inside, being warm, and I want to be too, and just, fuck it. I start running at my full speed. The buildings blur and all I can feel is glee at how fast, how very very fast I can run, until I realize that the Other is keeping up with me easily, and I  see my car, put on a burst of speed and I'm in it and I'm jamming the key in the ignition and jamming my feet on the clutch and the gas and I'm shifting and I'm peeling rubber and I am gone baby gone. Time for a hot bath, and some cuddle time with my German Shepherd mix, Thor, and some quiet time with a book. 

Relief washes over me along with the hot water in my clawfoot tub. This tub is my pride and joy, and is one of the main reasons – oh, screw it, the main reason – I took this apartment. It's huge and it fits all 5 foot 10 of me, plus all the bubbles I can stand, and oh, I love it. There's a fire going in the fireplace – I stacked it with wood before I left this evening – and I am really, really enjoying this.

As I scrub and wash, I start to pick apart my evening. Decent tips, sure. I'm a good bartender – hardly ever get an order wrong, even those stupid fiddly sorority girl drinks that have a ridiculous number of ingredients – and I evidently give off enough of that 'tough bartender' vibe that patrons think it's hilarious to try to fuck with me. Which is fine, because I learned to banter with the best, and I also don't take any shit. It astonishes me the amount of abuse some people will court, though, and still put a 10 in my jar.

Actually, everything was pretty damn normal for a Friday. I got to see one of my favorite regulars, this little ginger Irish lady named Gwen. She's adorable, and always tips well. Plus, she gets the good stuff – 18 year old Scotch, double, neat. That's my kind of woman, right there. No bullshit, no major drama, just give me the good stuff and let's have a nice chat. Plus, she's really cute. I somehow ended up on the other side of the bar one night when she was there, and the top of her head barely comes up to my shoulders. 

Thinking of that makes me pleasantly warm inside, and I realize that my bathwater has gone tepid, so I pull the plug, wrap my hair up in a thick towel, bundle up in my robe, and take a comb with me to sit by the fire. This is one of my favorite weekly rituals. My hair is very thick, and down to the small of my back, so having the time to wash it thoroughly and then comb it out and dry it properly is a real treat for me. 

Chapter Two

My first sight walking through the back door at Mooney's is Chuck's frowning face. This isn't unusual – Chuck isn't known for his cute dimples – but it's strange that he's frowning at me. I'm not normally the object of his wrath. Hmm ... I know I wiped down the bar last night, polished the mirror, cleaned the bathrooms, mopped the floor ... I tick through the entire list of my duties, and I know I didn't miss any of them, and Chuck still hasn't said anything. I am thoroughly sketched out by now, but I need to get behind the bar so that I can see what kind of crowd we've got tonight. And Chuck still hasn't said anything. Ok, time to knock this shit off.

Um, Chuck? I need to get around you so that I can clock in.

Oh, right. First, though, can I see you in my office real quick?

Just as I am about to remind him that I don't play for that team, one of the newbies pops her head through the door. Chuck, Loren's here, and he's trying to get free chicken wings again. Loren's one of our regulars. He tries this shit with all the fresh meat, but it