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Single Wolf Female

Midnight Liaisons - 2. 5

By

Jessica Sims

Chapter One

There were certain things expected of a werewolf alpha female: take care of the pack, exert leadership, change to wolf form with ease. Appease the alpha male. Dominate the females of the pack.

Filling out a dating profile for lonely women? Not on the list. Not even close.

To make matters worse, I was embarrassingly bad at filling out the profile. I chewed on the end of my pen-cap with vigor as I re-read the line of questions on the form, loathing the process with every fiber in my wolf-being.

I am a ______ seeking a ________.

My brain filled in the obvious. I am an idiot seeking a clue, or else I wouldn’t be here. Instead, I wrote down ‘woman’ and ‘man’ in the blanks, and then frowned. Could I be any more vague? I scratched them out and wrote above them ‘wolf female’ and ‘companionship. ’

The next question was even worse. Body type: __________.

What the heck did they want there? Tall? Short? Female? Werewolf? Alive? Or was it what I wanted in a man? Would ‘breathing’ qualify? I resisted the urge to snarl at the paper and placed the end of the pen in my mouth again, chewing hard with anxiety.

The woman seated across from me at the small desk stopped typing and gave me a faint smile. “Did you have a question about the form?” Her gaze flicked to the mangled pen in my mouth, then back to my face again.

Oops. I kept forgetting that the employees here at Midnight Liaisons were human. No wonder she was so uncomfortable at the sight of a wolf with a chew toy.

“About the form?”

“Yeah. I, um, want to make sure my answers are right. ”

“Take your time. ” She returned back to her typing with a smile of her own, and my estimation of her went up a notch. As frightened humans went, this one seemed less fazed by my snarly attitude than most. She wore a distracted expression on her round face and looked about my age. Except I was wearing jeans and a ratty Star Wars t-shirt and my hair was a stringy, unkempt mop of dark brown waves. She, on the other hand, was dressed in a baby pink sweater, black skirt, and her hair was pulled up in a long, pale blonde ponytail. She didn’t wear perfume, which allowed me to catch the barest whiff of were-cougar on her despite the cloying human scent.

Judging from the pictures on her desk (most of them of her with her arms around a very large wildcat), she was either married to a shifter or had a thing for hugging dangerous animals. I was going to guess the former, given that she worked at a shifter dating agency.

Interesting. I didn’t pay much attention to stuff outside of werewolf politics, but I didn’t realize that the Alliance – or whatever they were calling themselves – allowed that sort of thing. Humans were usually seen as…well, a bit…unwelcome. Not quite unsanitary, but not quite worthy of notice, either.

The woman glanced back over at me with a slightly wry smile that put me at ease. “I don’t show we have your pack in our database – is this the first time you’ve signed up with any Alliance-related business?”