She stayed in her apartment for the remainder of the day, not even going to visit Mrs. Willis.
Her chest tightened. She knew Mrs. Willis would be wondering where she was.
“Hey, sweetheart. What’s your hurry?” a couple of guys hanging out at the corner called out to her. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag and she hurried her pace. She’d been whistled at, yelled at, and even propositioned many times before. But tonight a sliver of fear skittered along her spine, like spider legs dancing on her back.
Something was different. Something was off.
She glanced around. There were plenty of people milling around the sidewalk, but they were all human. If she got into trouble she would need to shift to defend herself, but with the Pack Law, shifting in public was punishable by death.
Sometimes she hated humans. Not because she thought she was better but because they were so fucking entitled. If they knew how many times their lives had been saved from a rogue werewolf by Guardians, they would be shocked.
Not all humans were bad. Mrs. Willis was human and had a heart of gold.
Now her granddaughter, Shelly, was a different story. She didn’t trust that chick as far as she could throw her skinny ass.
“Baby. What’s your hurry?” The two men stepped up to flank her on both sides. One had a long untrimmed beard and dark eyes, while the other guy was clean shaven with snaggle-toothed smile.
They both reeked of whiskey and cigarettes. She cringed at the stench but kept walking. If she ignored them, maybe they would leave her alone.
“Hey, I’m talking to you. Do you think you’re too good to talk to us?” The guy with the unkempt beard stepped closer. His arm brushed against her and she recoiled.
“I have to get to work,” she murmured and kept her gaze straight ahead. Her heart clattered in her chest, and her lungs began to tighten and ache.
She was only a block from the club. Once inside she’d be safe. Only a few more feet.
“Yeah, we know where you work, angel.” The other male with the bad teeth ran his finger down her arm. “And we know what you look like under all those clothes.”
Her stomach lurched. They knew she was a stripper.
“Say, how much money for a blow job?” the other guy sneered.
“I’m a dancer, not a hooker.” She kept her voice businesslike and her gaze straight ahead despite the fear stomping up her spine.
“That’s not what I heard. Hell, half those girls at the Triple X put out for the right amount.” The dirty blond male leaned in close and sniffed.
She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists. A tiny spark of anger ignited deep within her chest.
Panic that had crept up her spine was swiftly being drowned out by another emotion. Anger.
She was really getting tired of this shit. She was nothing but a pair of tits and a nice ass. They thought they could say whatever they wanted, do whatever they wanted, and she would be grateful for each time they grabbed her ass or told her she was hot.
She was done with this shit.
Stopping in her tracks, she stuck her finger in the bearded guy’s chest. Her heart pounded as anger pulsed and surged through her body. “Let me tell you something. If you so much as try to touch me or put your hands on me again, I’m going to rip off your dick and stick it down your throat.” Her voice grew louder with each word forced out of her mouth.
People stopped along the sidewalk to watch the interaction. The guy looked around and his face turned bright red. “Easy, girl.”
“Stop touching me!” she screamed. The heat in her body raged as she fought back the impulse to shift and tear into these guys.
“This chick is crazy. She must be on something.” The blond guy laughed and looked around at the crowd.
“Did you touch her?” A ball-headed biker with a substantial beer gut stepped up to the guy. He took off his shades and tucked them into the pocket of his leather vest.
“Look, we were having a little fun, ya know.” The guy held up his hands and tried to laugh it off.
“Don’t sound like fun to me.” The biker whistled, and suddenly five other bikers stepped up behind him.
“Is there a problem?” A tall lanky guy with the same leather cut looked from his biker friend over to Catty.
“Yeah. These guys are harassing this young lady here.”
She frowned. It had been a long time since anyone called her a young lady. Even longer since someone had stood up for her.
“Is that right?” The tall guy stepped up to the two guys harassing her and glared.
“Where do you need to go, ma’am?” The big biker asked.
“The Triple X.” She dropped her shoulders a little. He’d probably leave after finding out what she did for a living.