Animal Behavior Read online

  It was a Spartan space with a bare mattress on a simple metal cot along one wall. The ceiling was twenty feet high and pierced with a barred skylight. Alex could see the silver-gray dusk above him. The tumblers rattled in the lock as John turned the key behind him. Alex wheeled around and watched the old man drag a large upholstered rocking chair from the shadows and sit down with a groan.

  Alex almost laughed at how out of place the overstuffed, chintz-covered chair looked. On the floor next to the chair was a woven basket full of books. John fished his reading glasses from the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, set them on his nose and selected a paperback. He lit his pipe and began to rock.

  Alex wrapped his hands around the iron bars. “Now what?”

  John glanced up from his book. “Now we wait.”

  “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “You’re safe here, son. I can’t explain what’s about to happen. You wouldn’t believe me even if I could. But know this, nothing you can say or do will shock me. I’ve been doing this for longer than you’ve been on this earth, my boy. I don’t take any of it personally. Don’t you worry. It’ll be over soon.”

  John’s voice was calm and even, but it did nothing to soothe Alex’s nerves. He sat back on the cot and tried to concentrate on his breathing.

  This is crazy. Who is this old guy? Am I being punked? They’re just trying to scare me.

  Alex looked up at the hole in the ceiling and saw the first stars pop into the jet-black sky. This is ridiculous. I need to get out of— Alex’s skin prickled. He felt itchy all over as if he were having an allergic reaction. And he was angry. No, he was enraged. These people are strangers! They don’t know me!

  “I have to get out of here!” he said and was shocked by the tone of his own voice. It had grown unnaturally deep and gravelly.

  He stood and walked back to the cell door. John wore a passive expression on his face and rocked slowly back and forth, his nose buried in his book. “John! Can you hear me? Let me out of here! I have to get out of here! Open this door now!”

  John continued to rock and read, his nonchalance fueling Alex’s fury. “Listen, you twisted old fuck, I want you to open this door right now! Who the fuck do you think you are? This is against the law! This is abduction. That’s a felony, you son of a bitch! When I get out of here I’m going to have you arrested. You’re going to wind up in the state pen and your wrinkled old ass is going to get a daily pounding from—”

  A jolt of pain shot through Alex’s spine and he fell to his knees. He felt as if he’d been whacked with a steel rod. He threw back his head to scream and his gaze fell on the night sky. The far rim of the skylight was ablaze with the leading edge of the moon. The scream that issued from his lips morphed into a snarl and then a long, frantic howl.

  Canis lupis, his scientific mind noted. What the fuck? It was the last logical thought he would have.

  Alex jumped to his feet and felt the sweat pour from him. He was burning up. He ripped off his shoes and clothes and started pacing the cell.

  John glanced up from his book. “Don’t fight it, son. You’ll only make it worse for yourself”

  Alex threw himself against the bars “I will kill you! I will rip out your fucking throat and eat your heart, old man.”

  John just smiled. “Not tonight you won’t.”

  “I will tear out your—”

  A sensation like being punched in the gut caused Alex to release the bars and stumble backward. He doubled over, bracing himself on his knees and struggled to catch his breath. He glanced down and watched in terrified fascination as the backs of his hands lengthened. His fingers grew too, and bulged at the joints. Long claws erupted through his fingertips, ripping off his nails. The pain moved to his feet as they contorted in a similar metamorphosis. His instep stretched to five times its original length until his heels were at the same height his knees had been just moments before.

  Alex clawed at his skin. The terrible itching intensified as a million coarse hairs poked from his pores. He screeched at the merciless pinpricks.

  “FUCK!” he cried out, but the sound coming from his chest erupted as a growl.

  His head began to throb. He felt his ears slide up the side of his skull and they stung as if they were being pulled into sharp points by some unseen force. His jaws ached and popped as his face was drawn out into a long snout. His saliva flowed freely, nearly choking him, and he ran his elongated tongue over a new set of long, sharp teeth. He beat his chest to try to pound away the pain. His spine and limbs crackled as they stretched. Pain seared through every joint. The ache was excruciating and Alex flung himself against the stone wall to escape it.

  And then—as suddenly as it had begun—it was over. The pain stopped as if a switch had been flipped. In its place was a new reality in which every sight, sound and smell was amplified.

  Running his elongated fingers down his rock-hard chest, Alex studied his new body. His limbs had stretched and, judging by his new sightline, he had gained nearly a foot in height. His entire body was covered in coppery fur that glinted in the lantern light.

  Alex’s breath came out in pants and he could smell the old man. Even over his own snarls Alex could hear the heartbeat pulsing in John’s leathery old neck. He stalked up to the door and slid his foaming snout between the bars. His vision was tinted as if filtered through red cellophane. His captor’s life force pulsed around him with a bright aura. Alex longed to consume John’s energy. I will kill you. He wrapped his claws around the bars and shook the metal door. I will kill you.

  A plan flashed into his mind so clearly it was as if it had been forged by ages of instinct. He would hold perfectly still and if the old man let down his guard—if he got within reach—Alex would grab him. He’d pull that brittle body against the bars then slash the throat and bathe in the hot, sticky jets of blood.

  Saliva rushed into Alex’s mouth when he imagined sinking his fangs into the warm, tender meat. He would yank chunks of John Chaney through the bars and feed on him until he was satisfied.

  Then the red-hot rage that consumed him was replaced by a much stronger emotion. An overwhelming pull forced him to tear his gaze from his prey. The cell was awash in a pale yellow glow and he backed up until he was at the center of the stone room, then looked overhead and saw the three-quarter moon framed by the skylight.

  The energy pulsing from the huge orb seemed to fill every atom of Alex’s transformed body. He spread out his arms and let the surge of power wash over him as his howl burst from his chest and filled the night.

  * * * * *

  Present

  The effects of the painkiller were beginning to fade, and as Gwen’s head cleared she was finally able to place him—Alex McKenzie, the Dog Talker. Gwen didn’t watch much TV—and she certainly wasn’t the type to get star struck—but as she studied his handsome profile, the attraction was undeniable.

  Gwen shrugged off Alex’s offer to help her out of the clinic and into his waiting golf cart. While she was settling in, a battered hatchback pulled into the lot. He introduced Gwen to his vet tech, Kelly. The pretty brunette promised to take good care of Jezebel and when she winked at Alex, Gwen was surprised to feel a twinge of jealousy.

  Bob led the way as Alex maneuvered the cart on the winding path to his house. The enormous two-story log home was nestled among soaring pines and paper-white birch trees. Two identical wings fanned out from a massive covered entry. The portico was lit by a huge iron chandelier that looked as if it weighed more than Gwen’s Jeep.

  So this is the kind of place TV money can buy, she thought. She glanced at the wide stone staircase leading up to the porch and counted ten steps. Her ankle throbbed and she wondered how she’d make it into the house.

  Alex trotted to her side of the cart. “Now will you let me help you?”

  Gwen rolled her eyes and reached out to steady herself on his extended hand. Instead, he slid one arm behind her shoulders and the other under her knees. Before she could pro
test, he lifted her against his chest and loped up the steps. He paused at the carved double doors and nodded at the handle. Gwen reached out, pivoted the thick, oil-rubbed bronze handle and pushed.

  From her perch in his arms, she took in the great room. It had soaring exposed log beam ceilings and was beautifully decorated in an upscale lodge style. A two-story stone fireplace took up one entire wall and a huge rustic dining table separated the living area from a state-of-the-art open kitchen. In the space opposite the fireplace were an ornate pool table with fringe at the pockets, an old-fashioned jukebox with bubbling lights, and a dark oak bar with sumptuously padded barstools. Alex deposited her in one of the buttery-soft tan leather couches that flanked the fireplace.

  “You going to be okay here?” he asked.

  “I am. But I’ve got to… I mean…”

  Alex’s brow furrowed for a minute before it seemed that the obvious dawned on him. “Oh. Yeah. Right. Hang on.”

  He disappeared down the hall and returned pushing a huge burgundy-leather executive desk chair in front of him. He positioned it at the end of the couch and lifted Gwen from one seat to the other. She held out her injured leg as he wheeled the chair past the billiard table, snatching a cue from its wall rack when they rolled by. Parking the office chair outside one of half a dozen raised paneled doors, he reached in to flick on the light. Gwen peered into the large, beautifully appointed half bath.

  He held out the pool cue and winced as if he were about to yank off a bandage. “Can you manage from here, or…”

  Gwen took the pool cue. “I’ll manage.”

  “Great, I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to go start the grill.”

  Using the pool cue, the wall, the doorframe and the bathroom vanity to support herself, she finally managed to pee. What should have taken two minutes took ten. Alex was chopping vegetables when she emerged. He put down his knife and watched her scoot across the room in her makeshift wheelchair and transfer back to the couch. “Beer? Pop?” he asked.

  “A beer would be great.”

  * * * * *

  Alex had to distract his nose. He’d barely made it out of the exam room without jumping her, but the cougar attack had been the worst of it. He could smell the blood from the scrapes on her hands and the fear oozing from every pore. And under those scents was her, her sweat and sex and the combination made him feel off balance.

  The only thing that had saved him—and her—was that it happened in broad daylight. If they’d been under the moon, Alex was sure it would have ended badly. As it was, the assault on his heightened olfactory sense was almost more than he could stand.

  His ears had picked it up first—the barking of her dog, the roar of the big cat. When he’d fired the warning shot over the cougar’s head, the acrid smell of gun powder had given Alex’s nose a temporary respite. It had cleared quickly though and when he knelt down beside her he’d been overwhelmed by the intoxicating pheromones rolling off her. He’d begun to tremble and his cock had stiffened. It had been all he could do not to rip off her clothes and fuck her right there. But it was more than sexual. Alex needed to possess her…completely.

  Mine.

  The ironclad decree regarding the protection of human consorts had saved them both in that moment. One of the first lessons Alex had been given was that John Chaney was not to be harmed under any circumstances. He wasn’t sure what the pack rules were regarding romantic interaction with a Chaney, but he could guess that it was frowned upon.

  As much as he dreaded it, Alex knew he would have to consult Sergei for clarification on the law. The enigmatic alpha had been especially tight-lipped when it came to the succession of the community’s human consort. After John Chaney’s death Sergei had called a pack meeting and grudgingly doled out just enough information to prevent a panic. Alex had wondered how much of the secrecy had been out of necessity and how much was just the big Russian’s bent for power and control.

  Sergei had told the members that John Chaney had a single heir—a granddaughter—and the pack attorneys were working day and night to execute the will and get their new consort back to Talbot. As clearly prescribed in the law, Chaney’s successor had never been told of her grandfather’s specialized role while he was alive. She must arrive at her new home without a clue as to what might be expected of her. Her courage would be tested and if she proved worthy of taking up her predecessor’s mantle, then the pack would be compelled to offer her their loyalty and protection.

  After curtly fielding a couple of questions from his pack, Sergei had projected a series of photos onto the white wall of the meeting room. Alex had glanced at the pictures of John’s granddaughter without much interest. Of course, photographs don’t have a pulse or a scent.

  Six months later, Alex stood at his kitchen counter with the living, breathing Gwen Chaney sitting ten feet away. He added extra onion and garlic to his chopping board, knowing full well that he was barely masking her scent. But it was better than walking around with a perpetual hard-on and no hope of relieving it.

  He served their steaks and vegetables and took a chair opposite Gwen.

  “So you’re that guy. Right? The Dog Talker?” she asked.

  Alex looked across the table. “Right.”

  “How do you do it?”

  She’d find out soon enough that Alex’s talents were more mystical than scientific, but now was not the time to tell her that he could literally hear dogs’ thoughts. He kept his answer basic. “I studied animal behavior. Dogs are pretty simple creatures. They want food, sex and the safety of a pack. Everything else just kind of falls into those motivators.”

  “Sounds like half the guys I’ve dated,” Gwen said, laughing at her own joke.

  When Alex responded with a quiet, “Hmm,” Gwen blushed and turned back to her steak. Alex’s nose twitched as the nonverbal signals poured out of her.

  Appeasement. His logical mind ticked off the physiology of her embarrassment while his hyper-acute senses recorded the effects. The flush that colored her cheeks, the sweat that gathered on her palms, the averted eyes and the increased heart rate were all primitive hardwired responses signaling her unease and submission. If she were a canid, she would be rolling on her back and exposing her belly…her soft, hot belly. Alex felt his cock harden and bit down on the inside of his cheek to quell his own automatic reaction.

  He watched her press the back of her fork on the meat and widen her eyes at the red juices that flowed onto the plate. “Too rare?” he asked. He knew she heard the annoyance in his voice and supposed it confused her.

  “No, I’m just—”

  “I can throw it back on the grill for a few minutes.”

  She lifted her gaze. “I’m just tired. Would you mind taking me home?”

  Alex shook his head. “Not at all. You’ve had quite a day.”

  He hoped his response came across as empathetic, when in fact he was relieved that she’d asked to cut the evening short. His attraction to her was ferocious and fighting it was exhausting.

  * * * * *

  The Russian’s musk grew stronger as Alex eased the golf cart up to Gwen’s front porch. He suppressed a territorial growl even as the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. She wouldn’t allow him carry her inside, but did let him wrap his arm around her waist so she could hop into the cabin. It gave him a chance to lean in and smell her hair. It was all he could do not to throw her down on the porch and fuck her right then and there. Unless and until he was granted permission to be with her, he was going to have to figure out a way to cope with the urges she stirred in him.

  He helped Gwen settled on the couch, trying to ignore Markov’s scent. “So you’ve met the basketball star,” he said, regretting that he couldn’t hide his disdain.

  “Yeah, how’d you know?” Gwen asked.

  “Muddy size-seventeen footprints on the porch and that,” Alex said, nodding to Luna Farms basket.

  “A vet, a TV star and a detective!” Gwen chuckled.

&nbs
p; “Basic observation,” Alex muttered too curtly.

  Gwen’s face reddened again and Alex bristled. If she only knew the subtle signals her body gave when she blushed—and what it did to him—she would be more frightened than embarrassed.

  “So how do you know Sergei?” she asked

  “We have mutual…interests. He sold me the land that I built my clinic and house on.”

  “Mutual interests?”

  Alex had no intention of explaining his connection to the Russian. He ignored the question. “I’ll bring Jezebel over before I leave tomorrow. You’ll have to give her antibiotics and change the dressings. I’ll show you how.”

  “Leave?”

  “I have business to attend to in the city.”

  She looked wounded and her meekness fueled his desire. Though he would rather spend the next seven days in the comfort and safety of his Talbot home, he felt certain he had to be well away from her before the moon was full. Once she understood her role in the pack, maybe they could figure something out. In the meantime, he hoped one of the other Minnesota packs could put him up until the three-quarters moon. “I’m meeting a crew in Minneapolis to film promos for the new season,” he lied. “I’ll be back in a week or so.”

  Alex walked to the fireplace and pulled a poker from the stand. He handed it to Gwen “Use this like a cane. Try to keep weight off that ankle for a couple of days and elevate it when you can. And I hope I don’t have to remind you not to go wandering in the woods alone—especially after dark.”

  Gwen nodded. Crouching at her feet, Alex lifted her wrapped leg and set it gently on the coffee table. He could feel her pulse through the layers of bandage and denim and was slow to remove his hand. Unable to stop himself, he began massaging swollen tissue then worked his way upward. When he reached her knee, he glanced up and found her staring at him. This time, she didn’t look away. His gaze swept her face. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted and reddened. Her throat and face flushed, but the scent of arousal from between her legs made it clear that she was anything but embarrassed.

  Need crashed over him and he knew that he was nearing the point of no return. Rules or no rules, if he didn’t get out of there soon, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He ground his teeth and readied himself to stand and leave, but she reached out and stroked his cheek. It was the first time in three years that he’d allowed a woman to touch is face. He met her gaze then leaned into her hand. The place where their skin met seemed to vibrate and every inhibition drained from him. The urge to touch, taste and please her overwhelmed him. He didn’t care what the consequences were, he had to have her.