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It all started with Monroe’s legs.

Well, it actually started with a missing girl and a creepy postman, or Aunt Marie having a smackdown with a reaper outside his house. But right now his biggest issue is with Monroe’s goddamn legs.

Nick has been barging into her house so much lately that she’s stopped actually bothering to put on pants when he barges in at all hours. Instead she seems to just get up, shrug on her robe and start making coffee. Which, fine, okay. He’s in her house often enough that she’s comfortable with him, but her robe ends somewhere mid-thigh and god but that is a lot of leg.

And she doesn’t shave them.

She caught him staring once and just shrugged. ‘Wolf, you know.’ like that explained everything. Nick doesn’t think he’s ever met another woman over sixteen who doesn’t get rid of her body hair somehow.

It’s only one part of what fascinates him about Edie in general. There’s the whole Blutbad thing of course. He saw what happened to the last guy who seriously pissed her off. They had managed to re-attach his arm, sure, but only just. He finds that comforting in a way. Edie is safe for him to be around because Edie can most definitely take care of herself. She could probably take care of everyone else too, while she was at it.



But this woman who could rip a body to shreds is so careful when she has to be. The delicate way her hands move on her clocks, the gentleness of her hand on a scared kid’s shoulder.

He finds himself thinking about her all the time. When he’s making dinner, working a case, jerking off. He thinks about the dark hair on Edie’s legs and wonders about the rest of her. The way that she’d smell between her legs, under her arms. He wants to unbind the braid running down her back like the worst cliche.

She’s let him, he knows. He can tell that she preens under his eyes sometimes, straightening her back and giving him the eye. He doesn’t think she’d make it easy by any means, the wolf in her probably wouldn’t allow that. From anything he’s read about Blutbaden in the journals Blutbad mating is more like a bloodsport than a gentle wooing. Monroe might do the vegetarian version, but she’s still got that wildness to her.

When she’s standing in her kitchen he tries not to think about the fact that she probably has hair on her belly and her thighs. That she would probably like it if he did what he wanted and bit the join of her shoulder and neck, that she might shudder and go still beneath his teeth.

Which is how he finds himself drunk and propping up the bar with Hank while he uses his arms to drunkenly gesture ‘her legs, man, her legs’ while Hank laughs at him, because Hank is a terrible partner.

Or the best: he calls Edie from Nick’s phone while patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. And then what seems like forever and another drink later there she is in her clunky boots and plaid, shaking her head fondly.

Edie helps him up like he weighs nothing and helps him into her car. She’s smiling and in the dim lights that pass he can almost see the glint of her fangs and claws. He feels himself drift as she hums, tapping her fingers on the wheel.

They don’t have sex that night- he’s too drunk to do more than think about it really hard. But she lets his clumsy fingers undo her braid and brush through her hair before bed and when she climbs in beside him he feels the silkiness of her legs (her fur) against his. She was taking a run in the park when Hank called- she smells of pine and loamy soil.

When he kisses her, she only draws a little blood, just so he remembers what she is.

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astoryandasong

August 2012

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