MICHAEL LANDRY hands over the phone back to Lyter. He watches as his friend's expression turns solemn, no doubt getting a word—or two from his wife about including their daughter in his 'profitless gamblings'. Michael sighs, heading to the homebar. He wouldn't want to be Lyter right now.
He grabs a glass and pushes a button. A gray screen slides out smoothly.
Sparkling Chardonnay sloshes around ice cubes as he types in a quick code. The 'Cloud' falls under his cyber-scrutiny and he inputs the string Arielle sent him.
The log pins on nothing. Well, not nothing.
The search arrow rests on what looks to be a Mountain, surrounded by stretches of untamed Forest. The string has to be a car's plate number so the question is, Why would anyone want to live on a Mountain? And why would Arielle want to find such person?
Sure, there are some towns lying around, but the car's location pings at the foot of a Mountain to the west of Vermont.
He peeks closer and the nearest municipal appears; a Ranger town called Winterville.
Michael glares at the screen, his lips thinning to a grim line. Arielle had always being more—in a powerful way. He always knew it and loved it. But from the day her eyes glowed snake-green, he knew she wasn't entirely human. And he loved her even more.
He didn't believe in nethertales or deities, but it is pretty hard to doubt the existence of werewolves when your Fiancée purrs a beautiful sound as she cums.
Michael loved when she purred. It made him take her harder. And her claws. Christ! They'll be the death of him. He loved when she drew blood as she rode on him. She didn't know of course. He'd always used the sheets to wipe it off.
For Arielle, he'd do anything. Because he loved her. Fiercely.
He takes a sip of the chilling wine, taps twice on the screen and the location sends to her phone. He saves it also. Who knows? he muses. He might pay the place a visit.