About Wolf Bayou: A Menage Story
by BA Tortuga
Werewolves Jud and Jethro figure it's meant to be when their truck breaks down in the Louisiana bayou, especially when they scent a female wolf on the wind. Lila has a feeling it's not so much meant to be as damned inconvenient to have a pair of twins show up, sniffing around and wanting to spend the full moon with her.
Lila is as spicy as the cayenne pepper she uses so much in her cooking, and she hasn't had any trouble resisting the local males, but Jud and Jeth are double the trouble, and twice as pretty. Can she send them on their way, or will they prove that what the three of them find together goes beyond a little voodoo?
Pere Loupe peered into the bowl, the fragrant steam assaulting his nose with the scents of his granddaughter's gumbo. She made it spicy enough to burn his nose hair, but he could always read the future in the okra trails.
He'd been doing a little gris-gris, just a little something of what he was famous for. People came from hundreds of miles away for his matchmaking spells. Too bad Lila never did make no mind of his best efforts to get her married and having chou-chou. Man got to his age, he wanted more cubs around to ensure his legacy, after all.
Something floated to the surface, something that wasn't no tomato or piece of crab shell. No, siree, it was a picture of the future, sure enough, and Pere Loupe cackled, slapping his leg.
Oh, now. That was somthin'. That was gonna shake his Lila up, no doubt. Give her something to think about besides carving a living out of a piece of swamp that never gave nothin' but gators and cooters.
Lord, lord. This might just be his most successful gris-gris yet.
Or it was gonna be the biggest disaster he'd ever seen. Either way, he couldn't wait to see how it panned out. The gumbo, it never lied.
Jud Tallent took off his hat and wiped the sweat off his brow, his booted foot lashing out to clang against the rim of the damned tire that had gone flat right in the middle of the worst stretch of Louisiana nothing he'd ever seen. There wasn't nothin' on the side of the road but swamp, almost right up to the asphalt. Little concrete moats was all that separated them from the gators.
Goddamn, it had been a miserable fucking trip. He peered across the hood at his twin brother, who looked just as disgusted as he felt. "Tell me again why we went to fucking Georgia, Jeth?"
"Ain't a Georgia boy can whup one of us at roping."
"Yeah. But how are we gonna get home now, huh?"
Jethro looked over at him, one eyebrow quirking. "Well, I reckon we'll find some asshole to run us to a town and get this bitch patched."
"What the hell happened to the spare, huh?" Jud would swear they had it all ready to go before they'd left for the damned rodeo event. Christ. The full moon was in three fucking days.
"Didn't we sell it for beer and pork rinds?"