A Date with a Werewolf by MH Bonham (electronic reader .txt) 📕

Table of Contents

Title Page

Title Page

Dedication and Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter None

The End

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Get Your Own Copy HERE.

Other Books by MH BONHAM

About the Author

A Date with a Werewolf

MH Bonham

Llaughing Llama Media, LLC

© 2019 by M. H. Bonham.

Published by Llaughing Llama Media, LLC.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

Cover by M.H. Bonham.

Printed in the United States of America

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Dedication and Acknowledgments

For Larry

Special thanks to Gary Jonas and Kate Steenberg

My cheerleaders and Beta critics

Chapter One

I walked into the werewolf bar, pulled out my badge, and shouted, “You are all under arrest for kidnapping.” I began to recite their Mirada rights when a were cold-cocked me from behind.

Like Rodney Dangerfield, I just don’t get no respect.

I went down like a sack of spuds. Guess that’s what I get for trying to arrest an entire werewolf biker gang for stealing my girlfriend. Okay, my girlfriend-to-be. Okay, we were more like just friends who had a possible romantic interest. As in I had the romantic interest, and I had no idea if she did too. As in I asked her out on a first date, and she said “yes.”

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Bob Ironspell-Cabas, although most people seem to pick up on the Ironspell name and forget I have a first name and a hyphenated last name. I’m not a mage or a wizard, but I do come from a long line of wizards on both sides of my family. I do use magic, but my formal training only comes from simple undergraduate studies and reading magic spells like those in Wizardry Today. I’m a rookie cop with the Denver Police Department Supernatural Unit, or DPDS when I’m not trying to rescue my date.

My date, who incidentally, is also a werewolf.

The werewolf biker who punched me from behind gave me a vicious kick in the stomach and I hurled on their bar floor. The werewolf bar was in Commerce City, which is out of my jurisdiction, but given that when I went to pick up Luna, my date, I found the Denver Wolfpack’s bar ransacked and Luna and four other female weres gone. The Denver Wolfpack and the Commerce City Wolfpack had been rivals since Colorado became a state in 1876, which is a long time for a feud. The only creatures that have longer feuds than werewolves are the vampires, wizards, Fae, and oddly enough, humans.

“Hey, Lenny, you just assaulted a cop.” A werewolf biker with red hair, red beard, and a t-shirt that said Werewolf Bikers Rock spoke up. He was my height but at least twice my width and all muscle. I noted the tats across his hairy arms gleamed with magic—ward runes and wolves—as he offered me his hand to help me up. His hand made my fingers look like they were from a ten-year-old’s instead of a twenty-four year old’s. He hauled me to my feet.

“So?” Lenny snarled, and I got a look at my assailant. Lenny stood a bit taller than Red Beard and had long silver hair and a braided beard. Like all werewolves I’ve encountered, he had a wolf’s brass eyes, which, by the way, is how you can tell a werewolf from a Normal when they’re in human form. “Lighten up, Red, he just tried to arrest all of us.”

“Like you think he could?” A brown-haired were spoke up from the booth. He sat next to two young women, both Normals and busty, with enough tats across their arms to put to shame most of the werewolves there.

“Hey, I really don’t need to get booked again.” Lenny eyed me. “Especially on some trumped-up charge.”

“It’s not trumped up.” I rubbed the back of my head where he had hit me. “You guys trashed Trader Vic’s…”

Red cocked his head, almost like a puppy who hears a strange sound. It would’ve been cute, except it wasn’t. “Someone trashed Trader Vic’s?”

“Where’s Alaric?” Lenny said. “He should be here, not you, little man.”

Alaric is the Denver Wolfpack’s Alpha. He’s a big dude and not to be trifled with. When I showed up to go on my date with Luna, I found him and about a half dozen werewolves beaten and bloody. “Alaric is in the hospital from the attack.”

The bar went completely silent. Red’s eyes narrowed. “Someone put a hit on Alaric?”

“Yeah, and he said it was you.”

“Liar!” Lenny half-turned into a wolf right there and leapt at me. Red smacked him back with one open hand. Lenny skittered across the floor, nearly wiping out a table with four werewolves playing cards and hit the bench portion of a booth. He rose slowly and shook his head.

“Idiot,” he said, “Alaric claimed it was us.” Red growled. He gazed at me. “Now, why would Alaric claim we’re responsible when we’re not?”

I looked into Red’s brass eyes. “You’re saying you didn’t attack the Denver Wolfpack’s headquarters?”

“What’s your name, little cop?”

“Bob. Bob Ironspell-Cabas.”

“The wizard who tamed the dragon and killed the sorcerer at the Denver Zoo?”

“I’m not a wizard and technically Smog, the dragon, ate him.” There was no reason for me to lie.

Red pointed to Lenny. “Clean up the mess.” He pointed at the bartender. “Get our friend a drink here.”

The bartender nodded. “What will you have?”

I continued to rub my head. “What’s on tap?”

“Coors, Miller, Dog Star, and Firebreather.”

“I’ll take a Dog Star,” I said.

“Good choice,” Red said. “Come over to my office after you get your drink.” It was not a request; it was an order. I felt the Alpha’s magical tug on me, even though I wasn’t a were. I thought about disobeying, but then, I was still hurting in the head and the ribs from Lenny’s cheap shots. I got my beer and dutifully walked over to the Alpha’s office, feeling a lot like a kid