Animal Behavior Page 5

  “Let’s get her back to my place. I’ll help you up,” the man said, standing and holding out his hand.

  “I’ve got it,” Gwen hissed.

  He dropped his arm to his side. “Suit yourself.”

  He snatched up the leather bag and slung it over his shoulder.

  “And another thing,” Gwen said to his back, mustering up her best self-righteous tone, “I don’t appreciate you toting your gun around here. This is private property, you know?”

  “Yes. You’re right. This is private property. My private property. I assume you’re John Chaney’s granddaughter.”

  She nodded.

  “Which would mean that your private property is about three hundred yards that way.” He pointed to a spot over her left shoulder, squeezing one eye shut as if he were aiming for a target. “And it’s a rifle, by the way.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a rifle, not a gun, and if I hadn’t fired a warning shot over that big kitty cat’s head your dog would have been shredded and you probably wouldn’t be bitching at me now,” he said.

  “What are you—some kind of professional mountain man?”

  He smirked and reached up and ran his hand through his copper-colored hair. “In a manner of speaking.”

  Gwen sized him up. He was tall, handsome, and he knew it. She planted her hands, palms down, popped her feet underneath her hips and stood quickly. A blinding white flash of pain raced from her left ankle to her brain, and as quickly as she’d been up, she was back in the dirt. The adrenaline had ebbed from her bloodstream, leaving her brain free to register both the confrontation with the cougar and the pain from the resulting twisted ankle. A wave of nausea rolled over her and she began to quake.

  “Let me have a look,” he said and crouched beside her. He unlaced her boot and grasped the heel. “Deep breath,” he said and gently removed it.

  Gwen sucked in air through her clenched teeth and wondered if her foot had come off with the boot.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. He gently walked his fingers up and down both sides of her foot and ankle and instructed her to try to point and flex.

  “Are you a doctor?” she asked.

  “Veterinarian,” he answered, still prodding at her throbbing ankle, “I don’t think it’s broken. But you can’t walk on it. Let me run back and get the golf cart.”

  Fear twisted in Gwen’s belly and must have shown in her eyes. The man pointed through the trees. “See that green roof? That’s my clinic. I’ll be back in five minutes and Bob will stay with you. Won’t you, Bob?” The Lab barked in response then flopped down in the dirt at Gwen’s hip.

  While she stroked the dog’s silky black head, a thousand thoughts and images screamed through her mind, churned up further by the pain from her ankle. She saw with shocking clarity the image of the cougar streaking out of the underbrush and squaring off with Jezebel. The trembling intensified until Gwen’s teeth chattered. She could hear her pulse whoosh-whooshing in her ears. The pain started to fade and her head felt as if it had detached from her body and was floating away on a balloon string.

  I’m going into shock. She heard her own, surprisingly calm voice offer this explanation in her mind. The man must have realized it too, because she heard him mutter, “Oh, shit,” as he hurried back to her side.

  Wrapping his arm around Gwen’s shoulders, he laid her back on the ground and yanked off his jacket, rolled it up and slid it under her feet. She suddenly remembered her sixth-grade health teacher, Mrs. Brewer, and her little first aid rhyme, If the face is red, raise the head. If the face is pale, raise the tail.

  The veterinarian leaned in close to her face. He smelled like cedar and orange peels. “Listen…” it must have dawned on him that they hadn’t exchanged names.

  “Gwen,” she said through chattering teeth.

  “Gwen. You’re going to be okay. You’ve been through a big deal. We’re just going to get you calmed down and we’ll take a closer look at that ankle. Okay?”

  The setting sun splashed golden light across the man’s profile. Gwen scanned the angular nose and the wavy hair framing his tanned skin and hazel eyes. She could make out the line of an impossibly square jaw under his razor stubble. Her muddled mind tried to grasp at a faraway glimmer of recognition. I know this guy.

  “Gwen? Okay?”

  His voice seemed so familiar. Gwen almost had it, but before the thought could fully form, she noticed that the outer edges of the world were beginning to turn inky black. Her ears were ringing and the field of vision was getting ever narrower. I’m going to pass out, was the last clear thought she had.

  Within an hour of returning from L.A., Alex’s cell phone had been chirping with incoming texts. The new human consort had arrived in Talbot the night before and the entire pack was buzzing with the news. It was strictly against policy to broadcast pack business, and all the texts were coded. They referenced a “new deputy in town” and speculated when they’d get to meet her.

  Introducing Gwen Chaney to the pack would be up to their alpha, not Alex. Sergei explained to him that these things had to be handled carefully. Passing the mantle usually only happened once in a generation and the incoming human consort had no idea what he or she was in for. Sergei would determine how and when Gwen would be told.

  Alex had planned to do a little hunting in the morning, then introduce himself in the afternoon. His visit would just be one neighbor welcoming another. He hadn’t counted on Gwen wandering cluelessly through the woods, putting herself in harm’s way.

  Yet, there she was, passed out on the ground after facing off with the big cat. Alex tried to concentrate on first aid as he knelt beside her.

  There wasn’t much of a family resemblance, but there was no doubt that Gwen was John Chaney’s granddaughter. She definitely has his courage, Alex thought. She hadn’t cried or freaked out during the cougar attack. When Alex had arrived on the scene she was waving her arms and screaming at the big cat to get the fuck off her dog.

  This woman was no damsel in distress. Still, he wondered if she would be able to pick up where her grandfather had left off. The Chaney family business was not for the squeamish. He doubted if she had any idea what John had meant to the pack, let alone the expectations that she would step into his very specialized role.

  He glanced down at the unconscious human-consort-elect. Fainting had been an automatic response to pain and adrenaline, not a sign of weakness. She was only out for a few seconds, but that was plenty of time for Alex to take inventory. Long, dark hair, pale skin, full mouth—pretty, he thought. The photos he’d seen of her hadn’t done her justice. Even under her puffy winter coat he could easily make out her lush curves. The thought of what those big breasts and full hips would feel like under his hands made his cock jerk to life. But it was the scent of her that distracted him the most.

  In the years since his change Alex had been drawn to dozens of women because he could smell their arousal, but he’d never experienced anything like this. Before he was within ten yards of her, the scent had triggered something deep in his core. And the bravery she’d shown during the attack was so impressive—so unlike the behavior of the vacuous, high-maintenance women he’d been spending his time with—it only multiplied her allure.

  He wanted her desperately and the sudden depth of his possessiveness was confusing. And yet, there was a kind of certainness in his instant connection to her that somehow calmed him. The agitation he’d felt in L.A. seemed to flow out of him and was replaced with single-minded focus.

  Mine.

  Leaning so close that his lips nearly brushed her throat, he breathed her in. A low moan rumbled from his chest and when she began to stir, he forced himself to pull away.

  Easy. Don’t frighten her.

  She stared up at him for a long moment as if trying to read his thoughts. He was relieved that she couldn’t. As soon as he was convinced that she wouldn’t pass out again, he fetched the golf cart and helped her up. He scooped up the injured d
og and laid it on the padded back seat, then drove them back to his property.

  Alex was glad that he’d kept the tiny clinic open, even though he had little energy to devote to his practice these days. The Dog Talker ate up most of his time. Still, he kept the place stocked with basic supplies to vaccinate and treat the pack’s pets.

  Gwen had insisted on hobbling up the clinic steps herself rather than allowing him to carry her. She’d also insisted on being in the procedure room while he’d worked on her dog. He’d set her on a rolling stool and told her to stay out of the way and not touch anything. Her ankle could wait until the golden had been patched up.

  At least she’d accepted the painkiller he’d offered. Laying the dog on the stainless-steel table, he glanced over at Gwen and saw that she was fighting to keep her eyes open.

  “How’s the ankle?” he asked

  Gwen grinned, “Feels great.”

  Her speech was slow and she sounded a bit spacey. Alex had never dosed a human before, but he felt confident that the he’d given her a safe amount.

  “How’s Jezebel?” she slurred.

  “You named your dog Jezebel?”

  “You named yours Bob,” she said, drawing out the last word to two syllables.

  Alex chuckled. “Fair enough. And Jezebel is going to be fine. I had to sedate her so I can stitch her up, and we’ll have to keep her overnight, but she’ll be good as new before you know it.”

  Gwen stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “Overnight?”

  “It’ll be fine. I called my tech. She’ll come in tonight and keep an eye on her.”

  Alex knotted the last stitch, bandaged the wound and carried the golden retriever to a recovery kennel. When he returned, Gwen was scooting around the OR on the rolling stool. “Having fun?” he asked.

  “I’m dying of thirst,” she said and licked her lips.

  “It’s the medication,” Alex explained, trying to pry his gaze away from her mouth.

  He brought her a glass of water, wheeled her into the exam room and asked her to get up on the table.

  “Oh, are we going to play doctor, Doctor?” she asked, then giggled at her own joke.

  He felt the ache in his groin and struggled to keep his cool. “I’m just going to X-ray your ankle, Gwen.”

  Fighting to stay focused, Alex dragged the portable digital-imaging machine across the room and helped her onto the examination table. The instant he touched her, he felt a surge of energy pass between them. He wasn’t sure if she’d felt it too, but when he looked up at her, she smiled and ran her tongue over those luscious lips again. He wanted to crush his mouth against hers. His own lips tingled at the thought and he realized he hadn’t wanted to kiss a woman since his change.

  The sound of his heartbeat thundered in his ears and below it he could hear hers race as well. His gaze rested on the side of her neck and he was mesmerized by the rhythmic pulse of her carotid artery. Gwen’s milky-white skin seemed to redden as everything in Alex’s vision took on an odd rosy hue. He hadn’t experienced this phenomenon since the night of his first change.

  What the fuck?

  The pounding of their hearts was almost deafening and saliva rushed into Alex’s mouth as the scent of her grew stronger. Lust consumed him and in an instant he could imagine exactly what he would to do to her as if it were actually happening. He would push her back on the cold, hard stainless steel and climb atop her warm, soft body. He would kiss her hard and explore her mouth with his tongue. Alex suppressed a moan when he thought of how she would taste.

  Her buttons would clatter across the exam room tiles when he ripped open her shirt and tore off her bra. Those big breasts would feel hot and heavy in his hands and he would pinch the nipples into hard beads before sucking each one into his mouth. She would arch into him when he yanked down her jeans and fingered her sweet-smelling pussy. Then he would taste her.

  He would kiss a path down her body, over her soft belly, and tease her plump thighs before plunging his tongue into her wet canal. Lapping at the delicious juice and sucking on her hard little clit while pumping his fingers into her would make her moan and buck. And when she had come, he would pull out his stiff cock, lubricate it with her cream and push inside her. He would knead her breasts as he thrust and when he was buried to the hilt, he would swivel his hips to massage her bud and wouldn’t stop until she came again. Alex could almost feel the sensation of her tight pussy clamping down around him and could imagine how her orgasm would feed his. He would…

  “Everything all right, Doc?”

  The sound of Gwen’s voice broke through his fantasy and Alex shook his head to clear away the image of her naked body. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I was just trying to figure out the best way to do the X-rays,” he lied. “Most of my patients have four legs, not two.”

  Glancing up at Gwen, he noticed her forehead wrinkle. He wasn’t sure if she’d bought it, but thought the effects of the pain killer had worked in his favor. Moving to the end of the table, Alex gingerly positioned her leg. Up close, the scent of her was almost more than he could take. He worked quickly, snapping a series of views, and turned the monitor so Gwen could see it. “Well, it’s not broken. I’ll bandage you up and once that pill wears off you should be able to manage the pain with over-the-counter medicine. Any questions?”

  “Yeah, what’s your name?”

  “Alex. Anything else?”

  “Have you got anything to eat? I’m starving.”

  Yes, she was definitely John’s granddaughter.

  Chapter Five

  Present

  Alex wheeled the portable X-ray machine into corner of the exam room then helped Gwen down from the stainless steel table. He grinned when her stomach growled. “You really are hungry!”

  Even if there wasn’t much of a family resemblance, Gwen and her late grandfather seemed to share a healthy appetite. Alex took a mental inventory of the kitchen back at his house. He always stocked plenty of fresh meat and there was beer in the fridge.

  He’d take her back to his place, feed her then bring her home. As he tidied up the exam room, Alex realized that he hadn’t been to back to Chaney Acres since John’s death. He missed the old man. From the day they’d met—three years ago—until the end, the late human consort had shown Alex nothing but kindness.

  * * * * *

  Three Years Ago

  The morning of Alex’s first full moon, Sergei brought him to meet John Chaney. The old man lived in a rambling log home that looked as if it had been added on to a half dozen times over the past century. It was warm and welcoming with a huge stone fireplace in the central room, rich braided rugs and overflowing bookshelves flanking the mantle. The old man himself was small and soft spoken.

  “I’ve brought you a pup,” Sergei said by way of introduction.

  John shook the young veterinarian’s hand and Alex noted that the fingers were knotted and bent with arthritis. “Pleased to meet you, Alex. Sergei has told me about you. You weren’t bitten?”

  Alex could only shake his head.

  “Not many choose this life, but I suspect the process will be about the same. You need to eat and hydrate. This week will be the most difficult. It will get easier.”

  “Week? I thought the whole werewolf thing only happened one night a month.”

  “Only in the movies,” John said. “In real life you’ll feel the effects on the night of the full moon and a two or three days on either side of it. We call it ‘moon week’.”

  “‘In real life’,” Alex repeated and shook his head.

  John winked and led Alex to the kitchen. The three sat around the worn table and enjoyed huge portions of rare steak and runny eggs. Alex was amazed at how much Chaney ate and wondered where the little man put it all. Sergei kept Alex’s water glass full and urged him to drink past the point of slaking his thirst. When Alex tried to wave him off, the Russian persisted. “You will need your strength, friend.”

  Alex began to worry at the men’s wa
rnings and the somber tone in their voices. He wanted to ask if there was any way they could stop what was about to happen.

  Sergei read the thought and shook his head. “There is no stopping it, friend. You must endure the trial. The time will come when you gain some control—never complete mastery—but some control.”

  As the sun began to set, Sergei rose to leave. “I’ll collect him in the morning.”

  Alex felt his panic rise. “You’re leaving?”

  “You are in good hands, Alex. I must face the moon by myself—as you will have to one day.”

  John bade his friend goodbye then crossed to the side table near the front door, pulled a necklace from the drawer and slipped it over his head. At the end of the heavy chain was a large silver amulet in the shape of an inverted triangle with a spiral filling its center. “Come with me, son,” John said.

  The old man pocketed a flashlight, grabbed a shotgun from the pegs above the fireplace, then hobbled out the front door and off the porch. Alex followed with Bob trailing behind. “Tell your dog to stay here.”

  It’s okay Bob. Wait here. I’ll be back in the morning, Alex telepathed to the dog. The Lab groaned and flopped down on the porch. John slung the rifle over his shoulder and walked around the side of the cabin.

  The men followed a narrow path into the woods and John stopped at a tall, stacked stone wall. He pulled aside a bush and bowed to pass through a low hidden archway. Alex paused and peered into the opening. John flicked on his flashlight and swept the beam over the walls of the stone tunnel beyond.

  Once inside, it was tall enough for the two to stand upright. Alex realized that the passageway was built into the hillside and his fear was replaced by a prickling sense of curiosity and anticipation.

  At the end of the tunnel was a wall of iron bars. John produced a box of matches and lit the two oil lanterns flanking the cell. He pulled a key ring from his pocket, opened the cell door and nodded for Alex to step inside.