Circus Wolf (11 page)

“It’s a cool night.”
But things will warm up soon, my sweet, innocent playmate.
Raw,
naked desire pulsed in his penis. He looked down at her with his hypnotic gaze
and drew her into the shadows of a huge evergreen tree. “You have enticing
pouty lips. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Her eyes glinted and she shook her head, allowing
her blonde hair to caress the lines of her enticing neck.

“May I steal just one kiss before I leave you safely
at your door?”

She nodded, almost shyly.

He decided to make her wait for it. He stared into
her eyes and created the needed telepathic bond. He deepened his probe, using
his mesmerizing power of hypnotism to go into the very soul of the poor,
helpless young creature. His mind, his brain and hers locked in psychedelic
euphoria. Then he put everything he had into the kiss and she molded into his
body. He drew her down to the grassy hillside parkway with him and gave her
what she’d been enthralled and awestruck into allowing. He sucked on the tender
skin of her neck and together they soared to a wild and heightened erotic state
where their brains produced their own hallucinogens. Then he placed his hand
over her mouth to silence the screams he knew would come, and bit down on her
neck, sinking his fangs into her juggler. Her scream came out muffled against
the relentless pressure of his hand. He suctioned the blood and gore into his
mouth as he rode her into a glorious solitary climax. He checked for a pulse,
knowing there would be none. He cleaned his mouth and teeth with an untraceable
and undetectable solution. Next, with his special acid pen he cleaned away all
traces of DNA and then ran into the darkness, discarding her to an eternal
sleep.

****

Morphed into her feral form Tigra ran free through
the dark shadowy night, enjoying the sounds of crickets and other night
creatures. Suddenly, she splayed her ears sideways, like outstretched bat
wings, listening. Alerted by her enhanced tiger-sharp hearing, she stopped dead
still.
Was that a muffled scream she’d
heard?
After a moment, she decided it must have been the cry of the moaning
wind. Another gust whistled through the trees. A falling leaf brushed her face,
like the eerie touch of evil. Her pulse pounded erratically.

Skittish now, she turned and searched the brush and thick,
shifting shadows behind her. The movement must have been rippling branches. She
inhaled a strong, overpowering scent of wolf. She raked her fingers through her
wild mane.
Were there wolves in these
hills?

Something flashed in her peripheral vision. Her animal eyes
picked out distorted shapes. A sinking feeling slithered through her. She
melted deeper into the shadows and ran, crouched low, through the brush, silent
as the night pressing down on her. She could scarcely breathe. With a gripping
sense of rising panic, she circled back toward the circus.

She couldn’t remain in her tiger form. When she
returned to where she’d hidden her clothes, she scanned the perimeter: both
sides, ahead, and behind. Satisfied she was alone, she began the morphing
process.

Concentrating, she
willed herself to morph back to her human-form. Shifting in and out

of
her dual transitions so quickly required tremendous
physical stamina. And sometimes the quick turn-around weakened her. She hoped
that wouldn’t be the case this time. Before she was completely shifted, she
heard twigs snapping and leaves crunching. Oh, no, there was someone or
something coming toward her at a ground-eating clip and it was too late to stop
the process.

****

Ignoring burning muscles and sensing evil lurked
nearby, Hugh ran toward the hills with one thought in mind—find Tigra. When
he’d caught the scent of mustiness coming from the west and tiger to the north,
he’d turned north into the brush-covered hills. Obviously Tigra had spent so
much time with her pets she smelled like them. It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact,
he found it quite enticing. The enticing smell grew stronger. Was one of the
tigers loose and slipping through the shadows?
Perhaps for safety sake and the ability to run faster, I should morph.

Desperation and concern rushed the body-racking
process and in seconds he’d made the transition.

You can’t
outrun me now, Tigra
. The wind
ruffled his coat as he poured on the speed, covering about a half mile in
seconds.

When the scent of the tiger almost overpowered him
he knew he was close. Very close. With his intensified wolf hearing, he heard
the snap of a twig.

 
He froze when
he caught sight of a beautiful Bengal tiger slinking through the shadowy brush.
Oh this is bad.
A loose tiger was a
danger to the community and after all the so called accidents
on the circus grounds at the L.A.
performance, an escape like this could close down the whole operation for good.
What should I do? And where the hell is
Tigra?

Before his eyes, the orange and black feral creature
with the beautiful catlike face was morphing into…oh, my God! It was Tigra!
Nude.

Hugh let his gaze slide
slowly over the lovely Queen of Tigers from head to toe, noticing every
luscious inch: round firm breasts, slender waist, curving hips, and slender
bare ankles. He forced away his lust. There were important things to consider,
like
had
she
caught
his
scent?
Perhaps, even seen
him
?

It wasn’t
likely. I must Morph back to my human form before she catches sight of me.

****

Tigra froze at the sight of the black wolf moving
silently through the overgrown thicket. She’d been safer as a tiger.
The fine hairs at her neck prickled.
In her human form
she had no chance of outrunning a wolf.
Oh, no.
I left my knife, stake, and
silver cross with my clothes! S
he ducked deeper into the bushes and prayed
her scent wouldn’t give her away.

Although it was dark and shadowy, with her superior
eyesight, she could easily view the beast. It was a healthy-looking wolf with
striking and startling bold, silvery high-sheen markings that appeared to
extend from its neck all the way along the spine and was somehow interspersed
in its black coat.

She continued to watch it, afraid to move, fearing
even the slightest ripple of the bushes would attract its attention. It stopped
abruptly in the shadows. She saw the glint of fangs. The animal rose up on its
hind feet. It was clearly a
male
wolf.
He was over six-foot tall. He issued a low, throaty growl, and then the
hulking, terrifying alpha wolf was changing into a man! A nude man!

His taut, tanned hide hugged corded muscles. Her
heart raced in preparation to fight. While she tried to gather her spinning
thoughts, and as though nothing unusual had happened, he strode through the
looming shadows and underbrush, his nude body glistening like sweat-kissed
steel. She took in the muscled legs, his young tree trunk waist and great
washboard abs. A terrifying tiny thrill shot through her.

Then she saw his face. “Hugh! What
are
you? Her heart pounded. She cleared
her dry throat. “I mean what are you doing here? And where are your clothes?”

“When you left the Circus, that high-wire guy,
Skully, was following you. And since I don’t quite trust the guy, I followed
you, too.”

 
“I didn’t see
him.” But she had caught a whiff of a male and something musty. A mystifying
surge of gratitude rose in her. With effort, she forced a tough tone. “Thanks
for your concern, but I can take care of myself.”

 
          
“Probably,
but even so, you’re crazy roaming around the hills alone, especially while
naked as a jay-bird.”

Her face flamed. She edged closer to the bush where
her clothes, the stake, and her silver cross were hidden. She and reached down
and snatched up the garments, holding them tightly in front of her like a
shield. She wished she could slip her silver cross out of the zipper pocket of
her sweats and slip it on. The stake was in another pocket. Maybe she could
ease it out.

He just watched her. The
stillness about him unnerved the hell out of her. Strips of darkness fell across
his solemn face, accenting more deeply his strong lupine contours.

She steeled herself and brashly looked him up and
down. His towering height and impressive breadth made her feel so small and… so
exposed. “What about you?”

Feral gray eyes,
blazing with wolf-like ferocity, held hers.
She felt his power and her
own vulnerability. H
is expression grew
stony again.
“Forget me.” He grabbed her arm with animal swiftness.
She’d almost had the stake out of the pocket and it fell to the ground. He
looked down at it and then back to her.
“Vampire hunting?”
When he bent, picked it up, and handed it back to her, his grip on her arm
tightened.

 
She fought to ignore
the heat ignited within her at his intensified hold. Way too aware of
his
nudity, she tried not to look down
again.
And failed.
He was magnificent.
And a werewolf!
she
reminded herself.
Oh, God. I’m in real
trouble here.
As far as she knew, she’d never known a Lycanthrope before.
Even now she could feel his gaze on
her, intense and unwavering, but she resisted the urge to look up and meet it
again. The loss of control she'd felt in those brief, endless moments of
contact had been as unexpected and frightening as it was inexplicable. She
wasn't eager to repeat the experience. But the small stubborn core of her
demanding control over herself and her surroundings pricked at her without
mercy. With a soft curse on an indrawn breath, she looked up. Her
uncontrollable gaze traveled over the strong, sharply cut lines of his jaw, but
it wasn't until she reached his eyes that she felt the full impact of his
intensity. His eyes shone with their own inner light. They burned—they burned
on hers. Her breath caught in her throat. He was staring at her, and returning
her daring scrutiny.

“I saw you morph,” he growled. “You’re a tiger shifter.” He
raked his midnight black hair. “When I put you in the cage during the
performance you didn’t change places with a tiger! You changed into one! Then
you stalked me and scared the hell out of me.”

“So?” She hated the tremor in her voice and the mesmerizing
effect of his glinting, thickly-lashed eyes. “You’re a werewolf!”

“Then you saw
me
morph, too? What are you going to do about it?” He tightened his jaw.

She lifted her chin. The night chill nipped at her
bare skin. She wrapped her arms around herself. “It depends. What are
you
going to do?”

“There’s a hot spring just ahead that is a corollary
from the Arrowhead Springs. Let’s go there, warm up, and figure this out.”

“First, let me get dressed.”

 
“Later. You
won’t want to get your clothes wet.”

She wondered why that sounded so reasonable. Running
through the hills naked with him was totally insane.
And on
so many levels—dangerous.
He was a
werewolf for heaven’s sake.

Chapter
Twelve

Struggling for control, Tigra breathed in the crisp
wee-hours air, savoring the myriad scents of the late night. Before it ended
she planned to know more about her mysterious werewolf assistant. They ran for
about a half mile across the brush-covered hillside at matched marathon-speed
and ended up at a clearing. A steamy pool lay ahead, dark and daunting. As
though Hugh had hypnotized her into doing his bidding, Tigra tucked her clothes
under a bush and allowed him to lead her into the shadowy, swirling and
steaming waters. While the wind echoed eerily around them, he paused and stared
down at her. His feral gray eyes blazed with wolf-like ferocity. His expression
grew stony, yet she wasn’t afraid as much as she was fascinated.

She was aware of the steam moistening her face and locks of
damp hair clinging to her cheeks. Hugh brushed the strands away and in the
process, his thumb grazed her collarbone. The intimate gesture caused her
breathing to go shallow. Her breasts went taut with expectation.
She knew the minute she looked up into his
intense, seducing eyes it was a wrong move. He held her gaze while he lowered
his head toward her.

The slowness of his
movements added an impatient and instinctive tiger lust to her rising passion.
The beat of Hugh’s heart throbbing against her bare breasts accelerated the
hot, wet wildness rising in her. She almost had an orgasm when his hot body
tensed against hers as if his blood was starting to boil. He touched her
nipples so lightly she wasn’t even sure she hadn’t imagined it. Then, he
slipped his hand down into the water to the curve of her hips and caressed her
bare thighs.
With all the determination
she could gather, she pushed against his muscled chest, fighting the pulsing,
the heat, he’d stirred in her. He stared into her face, then bent and kissed
her again. Not with feral hunger, but gently, respectfully. Suddenly, it felt
deceptively safe and she wanted to immerse herself in the sweet non-threatening
waves.