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Chapter 1: Dovercliff Bay

Another night, another mile on the odometer. The roar of the engine as my wheels carried me into that coastal town in the middle of nowhere. The kinda place people use for a weekend getaway. Oceanfront views by the roadside. Fishing boats docked from in the harbors. It was half to midnight when I cruised up road that cut through the center of that village. My bike probably woke up the residents. Not that it mattered in this dead of the night. I had other things to think about than the local country bumpkins. I needed a place to lay low for a while. Knowing the company agents were trailing me after that last little bonfire I left at the last job meant getting out of sight and outta mind for a weekend. Dovercliff Bay would be the right place suited for the needs. Folks were used to seeing vagabonds and drifters come through. Wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary for them. The road inclined up a hill for a ways. I gave the throttle a twist and felt the bike rumble beneath me. The Inn was waiting at the top. A large house converted into a public bar with bed and breakfast options. I've never been an artist or anythin' like that, but even I had to admit the place looked fuckin' beautiful under the moonlight with the yellow lit windows and the view overlooking the ocean. The parking lot had a few cars and a pair of pickup trucks. Must be a strong crowd for this kinda place on a Friday night.

I pulled the bike in and up to the nearest fence. Old fashioned wooden posts with long logs for the crossbeams. The wood was grayed and faded from all the years sitting here. Gave it a sort of vintage appeal.

Holy fuck I forgot how much I hate rednecks...

Killing the engine and stepping off, I checked my side satchel and pulled my piece from the depths, slipping into my jacket pocket against my chest. My leather jacket was loose enough to offer comfort but snug enough to keep from displaying my heater. I slipped the backpack over my shoulder and made for the porch. Passing by a teal car in the parking lot, I could hear a few voices from inside exchanging words and utterances. I gave it a brief glance, the scent of cannibis meeting my nostrils. Yeah, that wasn't a surprise. Sounds of the voices it seemed like a couple guys and a girl. Giving them no attention I passed by and stopped at the porch. Felt like taking a moment to look out at the water. Mostly I just needed an excuse to have a smoke myself. The cigarette tumbled from the pack with a couple bumps of my hand. I slipped the stick into my lips and gave a quick glance around before raising my hand. It was only for a split second, folks would think I had a liter for those with prying eyes. Heat gathered in my palm, flaring up slowly into a wisp before strengthening into a steady flame. The cigarette glowed to life on the end and the faint trail of smoke rose to meet the evening air. Closing my palm, the flame extinguished and the heat died away. I enjoyed a few heavy drags and leaned against the railing, exhaling the acrid smoke from my nostrils, feeling my nerves unwind for a change.

A few folks come and go through the doors behind me. I give them a sidelong glance but everyone leaves me alone. Not that they ain't used to seeing wolves from time to time, even a crimson furred one. To them, I'm just another stranger looking for a place to stay and a belly to be fed. That or a Fonz rippoff with my jacket and dark jeans. My bright yellow eyes glow naturally in the dark so maybe those cannines and felines are just creeped out a little bit. Whatever. They don't need to know me or my backstory. Neither do you. This isn't my story. It's hers. I'm just here to tell it.

Yeah, her.

I saw her for the first time when I was at the front desk. The old lady who owned the joint was a tabby. Her fur was grayed with age and she kept a pair of spectacles on the bridge of her nose. "Name?" she asked, looking through the reservations.

"Raze. I called last night about a reservation." I answered, looking around the place. Ugh. Place was decorated with flowers and old fashioned portraits of woods, farmhouses, ships on the water. Adjacent to the hall just off to the right was the lounge. Folks were gathered around enjoying drinks and laughs, cigar smoke under the lamp lights. A bar along the left side, tables in the center and lounge seating along the right side. A stage out in front of the seating section for performances. Can only imagine what drunks get up there and karoake. The cat handed me the room key, "Two days mister Stone. The lounge is open until 2 if you're interested in a late night drink and want to socialize with the others."

"I ain't all that interested in everyone else. I'll take you up on that drink though." I growled, slipping the key into my pocket, my ears standing up as the door behind me opened and shut, followed by the thunder of three different people making their way inside. Two heavy, males must be. The third was light and paused a moment. Probably the woman from the car outside. A second later she walked away into the lounge. Probably eyeing me or some shit. I didn't make time to doddle. After ascending the stairs and checking out the bedroom, stashing my coat and bag under the bed, I returned back downstairs to the lounge. Found myself a stool at the bar and ordered a shot of Jameson Whiskey from the hound dog with the bristling moustache serving the customers. Seein as smoking was allowed I whisked out another cigarette and lit up. A movement of cheers broke out among the denizens in the bar, all the males throwing cat calls and whistles. I spared a glance from the corner of my eye. "What's with all the hubbub?" I asked the bartender. The man nodded at the stage, wiping down the bartop with a cloth, "Angel's singing tonight."

My brows lifted together and my head turned on a swivel as a siren broke into verse. The song was jazzy and slow, and the lady making the words captured everyone's attention. Her hair was silken ebony, her fur a pale gray almost close to being white, a long thick fluffy tail flowing around her thighs and ankles supported up by red heels.

Her dress was blue.

Her song flowed along smoothly as the boys fell hushed. Angel was my kinda girl. She sang of the things love does to you. The esctasy of living high on a feeling. The loneliness of a bird left caged by misunderstanding. The pain of betrayal. Mostly, the song attacked romance as a whole. One woman who had been there and done that, and never cared to go do it again. Her eyes matched the dress. Deep pools of azure reflecting lights above. It wasn't until those eyes fell on me and that look she wore forced my vision to avert. She still watched and sang right along as if the world wouldn't stop her.

I had just ordered a double five minutes later when the scent of perfume filled my nose. Angel was sitting down on the stool next to me. "What'll it be Angel?" the bartender asked. The woman gave a little bob of her nose, "The usual Frank." She answered, her voice even smoother than her singing, if that was possible. I could hear the lighter she struck as she lit up her own smoke, feel her gaze even as I was looking forward. "Just how long are you going to pretend you don't see me?" she asked, turning her body to mine, folding one leg over the other. "Long enough." I answered, finally turning to her, "Hell of a voice. What's a pretty little bird like you doing in a dump like this?" The woman smiled quietly for seemed like more than five seconds before answering me, "I ask myself the same question every night. Everyone calls me Angel."

I smirked quietly at the corner of my mouth, "Suppose that means you'll be wantin' my name too?"

She leaned in close, the smoke puffing against my nose from her lips, "We both know what we want...and it's not a name."

~~~~~

There's something nice about meeting someone who synchronizes on the same wavelength as you. Look through the smoke and mirrors because you've both been there. No expectations to be had. Our bodies crushed together in a cluster of twisted sheets. Her legs spread wide gushing moisture from her slick petals, stuffed full of thick rigid cock pumping her well for more. I'd never tasted breasts so natural and full. It took forever to pry my teeth away from that hard puffed nipple. She laughed in my ear and teased me over it. I only grinned wickedly and gave myself another helping from the other tit. She had those perfect thighs too. Not those chicken leg shrimp bones. Those thick round full ones. Perfect for wrapping and squeezing. Angel's voice was a treasure when she sang, it was a platinum hit when she moaned. As if to punctuate her desire, she rolled me over and pulled off, moving downward quickly. One hand seizing the shaft and her other moving her hair behind her ear, Angel dove down and was insatiably hungry. I only realized a few seconds later through my writhing form and loud gasps that she was doing it for me and not herself. Her head was so quick and the slurps were messy as they should be. I remember my balls pumping on the verge of spilling over. Angel wouldn't let me though. She just flashed that matching grin and pulled herself back on. Henh, as if I'd let her have the top.

Hands clenched, fingers intertwined, I bore down on her from behind atop her back, her chest pressed tight against the sheets. Both our eyes were closed as we screamed softly when the tide came crashing down on us. My teeth were pinched into her neck, gritting fiercely and crying out as I filled Angel full of heat. She shook, she trembled, she quivered endlessly. The two of us coming down with glazed and starry eyes. She looked at me slowly, and I opened my eyes into hers. Breathlessly we came together in a series of lips and passion.

~~~~~~

It was early morning when we finally let ourselves slip into sleep. Well, Angel fell off into dreamland first. I made a moment to use the bathroom and take care of the body needs. I looked at Angel from the bathroom, wondering how something so perfect could live with herself. She was far from pure, so was I. Each of us with our own demons. Mine was under the bed. But hers? I looked down at the sink where her purse sat. I know I shouldn't have. But I've done everything in my life by the rule I don't care about should's and would's. I'm no Angel. I opened the purse and looked around inside. A brief pause as my insides fell cold. That was new for me. My fingers found the little bag inside, the white powder within was all too recognizable. Fuck, Angel. Not this shit.

I crawled into bed silently, the woman pulling herself close and laying her arm over my chest, tucking her nose into my neck. I stared at the ceiling for a bit, then at that blue dress on the floor. "Why do you have that shit in your bag?" I whispered faintly.

"....Why do you have a gun under the pillow?" she asked, all too easily, not letting herself rouse too much from sleep.

*Sigh* "....Shit." I cursed, as she casually pressed a kiss to my neck.