Call of the Wilds (7 page)

Showered, shaved, and doused with cologne, he studied his face in the mirror. Toughened and creased from the sun but not too bad considering he was closer to forty than thirty. His hair remained thick and dark, his body toned from days of working on the house and nights running. Karin seemed to find him attractive. She must be at least ten years younger, but his kind healed fast and aged slow. Didn’t matter. Their birthdays were the least of the problem. He turned away from his image to dress in a light blue Oxford shirt and a new pair of jeans. Maybe a night out in Macon would put him in a better mood.

* * * *

Macon was a large town with several establishments where people could meet for a night of uncomplicated sex. Malcolm chose a tavern he had frequented once before, took a seat at the bar, and nursed a beer. Time passed, the place got crowded, and the music got louder. He felt like a fish out of water, and finally he downed his drink and threw some money on the bar. Just as he rose, an attractive blonde slid onto the stool next to him and started a conversation. He bought her a drink and tried to look interested.

The woman seemed more than willing to take things further, but he couldn’t work up enough steam to make it worthwhile. She smoked and drank too much. He hated her perfume, something strong and flowery, and although her hands were all over him, he had no desire to reciprocate. She wasn’t Karin.

The anticipated hook-up didn’t work out, so he decided to cool his heels, all four of them, with a long run. When he pulled up to the house, Ralf didn’t greet him so he assumed the hybrid was already out. Ralf didn’t like being confined any more than he did. An open window gave him freedom to come and go as he pleased. The hybrid never went far. Maybe he could catch him.

He undressed and basked in the freedom of movement unrestricted by clothes. The cool breeze on his bare skin invited him to run. Stretching his powerful muscles, he took a deep breath and looked inside himself for the change.

He dropped to a crouch, his body bent forward, and his fingers dug into the earth. Cords of muscle flexed and straightened like cogs in a well-oiled machine—a far cry from the agony of his first change, a rite of passage that came with sexual maturity.

He recalled his father’s reassuring presence by his side while his body twisted into painful contortions. His bones, alien things inside his body, threatened to pierce his flesh and tear him apart. He’d never been so frightened. Not before, or since. His father had promised him it would get better, and it did. With training and exercise, he’d learned to embrace the change and call it with eager anticipation.

He looked down. Gray fur spread over his limbs like a time-lapse movie. Bones fractured and reformed, sounding like twigs cracking underfoot. His midsection contracted while his face expanded.

Reveling in his heightened senses, he lifted his muzzle to the wind and inhaled. The coppery scent of blood raised the coarse hair on his back.

Ralf!

He leapt up and ran. The scent took him by the old barn where he did his woodwork. Stunned, he saw Ralf’s motionless body lying in a pool of blood. He shifted and dropped to his knees, cradling his best friend in his arms. A howl of rage and despair came from the depths of his soul. If he lost Ralf, he’d be completely alone again. He wouldn’t let it happen. The animal needed more help than he could give him. He forced his brain to work. If he went to the local vet, everyone would know he owned a hybrid. As much as he hated to involve Karin, he had no choice. There was no one else. He carried Ralf back to the Jeep. Fate brought him to the refuge this morning and fate made him slip one of Karin’s cards in his pocket. He picked up his cell phone.

Chapter Eight

“Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all?”

Spooked, Karin threw aside the covers and jumped out of bed. Outside her window, a barred owl sat in the cavity of a tree. For a few seconds they blinked at each other, and then it hooted again, "
hoo, hoo, too-HOO; hoo, hoo, too-HOO, ooo
" and she cracked up. Her nocturnal friend sounded amazingly like Julia Child—to her anyway. In ancient Rome, they believed an owl’s hoot predicted death. Good thing she wasn’t superstitious. She might be tempted to crawl back in bed and pull the blankets over her head.

No sense pushing her luck. She’d already had a few hours of nightmare-free rest, and by the time she fell asleep again, it would be morning. She turned on a light and dressed in threadbare sweats.

At times like this she wished she still smoked. A cigarette would taste awfully good right now. Instead, she looked for something to read. She’d gone through just about everything she brought from home, mostly veterinary medical books and paranormal romances. Science and the supernatural might seem like a contradictory mix, but she always believed some things could not be easily explained, and if humans were the most highly evolved life forms in the universe, then the world was in big trouble.

Her hero of choice was the vampire, a creature of stunning sexuality with a tortured soul. She selected a paperback and settled down on the ratty couch, spilling its stuffing on the floor. The coffee table, a warped orange crate, served as her footrest.

The story captivated her until she got to the big love scene. The alpha male in her paperback was Malcolm to a T. Tough as nails, yes. Arrogant, yes. Sexy,
yes
. And complicated in ways she had yet to figure out. Beneath his tough-guy exterior, he hid a vulnerability she found intriguing.

If only she knew more about him. He was a flirt, probably had a slew of women, maybe even a wife. Not that she cared. Yeah, right. If he had another woman, she didn’t want to be the cause of marital problems or the target of a jealous girlfriend. Complications like that she didn’t need in her life right now. But damn, if he were hers, she wouldn’t let him out of the house.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt instant chemistry with a man and never so strong as with this man. The gravitational pull Malcolm wielded just about electrified the air between them.

Before the attack, she enjoyed sex and all the flirting and foreplay leading up to it. Afterward, she shut down, unwilling to give someone else control over her body and mind. What was it about this man that made her think about surrender?

Oh, this was bad, really bad. She needed to slow it down, but the way he stood up for her and made her feel safe and protected was just what she needed. And she had to trust a man her pack accepted without question. She'd always been told to judge a man by the way he treated his mother but she put her faith in a man who cared for critters. She hoped she wasn’t just fooling herself because he sent her hormones into overdrive.

The cell phone rang, and an icy hand clamped around her heart. No one called at this time of night, morning really, unless they had bad news.

“Yes?” She held her breath. Visions of every possible disaster flashed through her head.

“Karin, it’s Malcolm.” He hesitated. “I hate to bother you but…it’s my dog, Ralf. He’s been hurt bad.”

She exhaled and went into doctor mode. “Meet me at the refuge. I can be there in ten minutes.” Mentally, she thanked Frank for fixing the ATV, grabbed her keys, and flew out the door.

* * * *

She paced the porch like an expectant father, back and forth, back and forth until Malcolm pulled up.

“I got here as fast as I could,” he offered hoarsely. He looked drawn and deep shadows underscored his eyes.

She ushered him inside, and he laid his shirt-wrapped bundle on the exam table while she closed the accordion doors separating them from the black wolf. For once, the wolf ignored her, her eyes fixed on Malcolm like burning bits of volcanic rock.
She must be attracted to Ralf’s scent and the blood.

“Nice shirt. I’m afraid it’s ruined.”

“I don’t care about the shirt.”

She pushed it aside and did a quick basic assessment under the overhead light. “You did good, kept him warm and stopped the bleeding.”

He let out a long breath. He looked like a man on death row who had just gotten a last minute reprieve from the governor.

“Why don’t you wait in my office?”

“No.” He shook his head vehemently.

“Okay, then hold on to this.” Maybe it would be better to keep him busy so he wouldn’t freak out. Grabbing his hand, she put it on a plastic cone-shaped mask fitted snugly over Ralf’s snout.

“I’m going to set up an IV to get some fluids and blood into him.” She focused on the dog. She’d worry about Malcolm’s state of mind later. “I don’t have much canine blood on hand. If he needs more, I can take it from Beowulf.” She trimmed a bit of hair from Ralf’s leg and inserted an IV catheter in the saphenous vein.

Karin paused to wipe sweat from her brow. “He’s stable. I need an X-ray to see what we have.” She rolled the portable X-ray over and locked it in place, then threw a lead-lined apron at him and put one on herself.

Malcolm took a step back, then returned to Ralf’s side to wait while she developed the X-rays.

She put the films up on a viewing screen and pointed to a spot on the image. “It’s a gunshot wound but he’s one lucky dog. The bullet went through his shoulder without piercing any internal organs.”

“Do whatever you have to. I don’t care what it costs.”

“It’s not about money. I’ll clean the wounds, stitch them up, and give him antibiotics.”

“Will he be okay?”

“He’ll be fine, but we want to keep an eye out for infection.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“A full recovery is all the thanks I need.”

He hovered, anxious as a mother hen, while she worked on Ralf. With the last stitch in, she applied a dressing, then made a warm bed on the floor with blankets.

“Let’s move him over here. I don’t want to put in a cage near the wolf.” He helped her with the IV pole, and they settled down by the unconscious dog.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait until he wakes up so I can make sure he’s stable before I let you take him home. I don’t want him here any longer than necessary.”

“No. No, of course not.” Malcolm looked dazed. “We’ll be out of your way as soon as you give the word. I don’t want to cause any trouble between you and Quick Draw.”

“Are you kidding?” Jesus, what was he thinking? “I run the refuge, not Frank.” She put a comforting hand on his arm. “Look, Ralf is not in my way. If it were up to me, I’d keep him here until he recovered completely, but if most people don’t know about him, let’s keep it that way. It’s obvious he’s part wolf, and I don’t want to put him in any more danger.” She suspected Jude had something to do with the shooting, but she kept it to herself. She didn’t want to give Malcolm any ideas. The thought of him going after Jude and maybe getting himself shot made her sick with worry. “Trust me. I won’t let you two out of my sight until I’m sure he’s okay.”

He gave up a ghost of a smile. It made the fine lines around his eyes deepen. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, but he wore new clothes. Where had he come from? She had to stop this. His personal life didn’t concern her. She turned her thoughts back to Ralf.

“So, tell me how you and Ralf got together. How did you come to own a hybrid in a town that hates wolves?”

“About three years ago I, ah, I hiked on the west side of the gorge. I heard a faint mewling and a rustling in the underbrush, but I didn’t see anything. I crawled around, and then I found him, all matted and covered with dirt and so tiny I didn’t think he would make it back to the house.” A muscle clenched along his jaw.

“Oh, no.”

“I couldn’t leave him there. He snuggled up to me like he found his long lost mother.”

She grinned. “Sorry, I can’t picture you as anybody’s mother.”

As if to disagree, Ralf opened one eye and whimpered.

“Boy, am I glad to meet you, Ralf.” She leaned over and stroked his muzzle. He closed his eye and drifted off again. “It’s a good sign.”