Prey Mate

Double the cheese,triple the meat, and throw in some more of those little yellow goodies.” The guy tapped his finger against the glass separating him from the line of sandwich ingredients.

The build-your-own sandwich shop I worked at was unusually busy for a Tuesday evening just before closing time. All of my classes at the nearby college were Monday/Wednesday/Friday though, so it wasn't like I had anywhere to be.

"Are you talking about the banana peppers?" I checked.

Little yellow goodies? Where did he come up with that?

They looked more green than yellow, and the sign on the glass clearly stated their name.

"The pepperoncinis." The guy's friend tapped the glass where the first had tapped.

"Those are definitely banana peppers." I added more to the sandwich before sliding down the counter and adding the ridiculous amount of mayo, oils, vinegar, and seasoning the guy wanted.

I was in the zone, barely looking away from my sandwiches long enough to call out to the rest of the customers that I'd be with them shortly.

"We'll all be paying together." A guy a little way down the line called out.

Well, that would make things easier... but also harder.

I finally looked around the sandwich shop, and my eyebrows shot upward.

Holy... had the college's entire football team come in for sandwiches or something?

The room was full of unusually tall, muscular, and attractive men. We were supposed to be closing in ten minutes, but there were at least a dozen of the guys—maybe more.

"Great." I forced a smile, tapping the buttons on the checkout screen a bit harder than I needed to.

I'd never much liked the gorgeous, muscular, popular type. Nerdy, sweet guys? They were my jam. The less ego, the better. If I ever settled down, I wanted a guy who was nice to talk to, not just look at.

I put the first guy's order in, then went back to the beginning and started his friend's sandwich.

Double cheese, triple meat.

The pattern continued with little variety as closing time passed and I continued working through the last few sandwiches. I was reaching for yet another slice of our thickest, cheesiest bread, when the last guy said,

"Veggie sandwich on flatbread."

I glanced up, surprised. The other guys hooted and cackled, tossing jokes.

"Just kidding." Veggie Guy wore a big grin. He was yet another tall, gorgeous dude who undoubtedly spent way too many hours at the gym to have many brain cells at all.

When our eyes collided, his changed—going from a dark green color to red.

I dropped the cheesy bread, scrambling backward.

The laughter died down as Veggie Guy's lips parted, and something that sounded like an animal's snarl met my ears.

"Aw, shit," one of the other guys muttered.

Veggie Guy's hand landed on the top of the glass separating us. I took a step back. When he began to move, I knew I had to go too.

I took off into the back area. There was a break room, a fridge, and a door out. I was absolutely not prepared for an emergency situation, so I booked it straight through the back door. I didn't have a car—couldn't afford the vehicle, or insurance for it—so I rushed in the direction of my dorm room.

Only a few steps down the sidewalk, a hand caught my bicep, spinning me around. I crashed into Veggie Guy and found his eyes still glowing red.

The rest of the guys caught us almost as fast. Without the glass between them and me, they looked even bigger.

"Let go of me or I'm calling the cops," I threatened, trying to look larger than I was.

Red-eyed Veggie Guy growled, low and deep. Like an animal. It sounded like he was trying to say date.

Wait, no. He was trying to say mate.

Mate? Wasn't that a British or Australian word for friend?

I really wasn't as up to date on slang from across the world as I should've been.

Suddenly, he released my arm, jerking backward and bending in half with a sharp snapping sound and a pained yell-howl. I tried to jump away from him, but my back slammed into the chest of another man.

"Grab Jesse and the girl. We need to move," the guy now holding onto me barked.

My shocked brain processed too slowly.

He threw me over his shoulder, jogging all eight steps back to the parking lot—and the lone big white kidnapper van parked outside the sandwich shop. I shouted for help as I fought to get free, but it was eleven at night and no one except the not-football-team was around.

The guy opened the door with one hand before he set me on the middle seat, then buckled me in and turned to help the other guys. I unclicked the buckle and lunged toward the door.

The guy caught me around the waist and dragged me back, buckling the belt again and holding it in place.

"You don't want to run right now," he warned, like he was on my side.

"Like hell I don't!" I ripped against the seatbelt, but he wasn’t fazed and it didn’t budge.

Animalistic groans, growls, and whines came from the back seat. I shuddered at the sound of cracking bones. My entire focus was on escaping, so I didn't look backward—didn't want to look backward.

"Drive," another guy commanded.

Someone hit the gas, and I slammed into the seatbelt hard enough to be glad I was wearing it as the van ripped around a corner.

A savage snarl met my ears, and I finally stopped fighting long enough to whirl around—

And what I saw made me want to vomit.

Veggie Guy—Mate Guy—was half human, half...animal?

Gray fur sprouted from his oddly-shaped limbs, those freaky red eyes staring at me as his body bent and contorted in another painful-sounding snap.

My voice shook as I asked, "What the hell are you?"

The guy holding the seatbelt answered with a grimace, "Werewolves."