I Kissed a Dog (7 page)

Chapter
8
5

“Calm down, Missy.” Zane hovered over the female Zebra. His current caring demeanor
belied his feral nature as a werewolf.

Standing just inside the door, I could sense Missy’s terror. She saw Zane as a hunter
not a healer. I wondered if he was even a real veterinarian.

“Are you planning to help or just watch me struggle?’ Zane asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, I don’t know. She thinks you’re going to eat her for breakfast.”

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you? Do you have any idea what you’ve got us into?”
He moved away from the squirming filly to face me.

“Me?” How in the world could he blame me for his brutal rampage? And why did I still
find him so darn delectable? My so-called disgust had vanished, replaced by an unacceptable
craving to feel his mouth on mine. I forced myself to think of the bloody men in the
field. That did the trick. My loathing returned.

“Yes! You! When I said ‘stay in the bar,’ did that not mean
stay in the bar
?” He stepped closer, glaring down at me, his eyes wild with fury and something I
couldn’t discern.

Backing up, I found myself pressed against the wall. Icy fear froze my mouth, keeping
me from spouting off.

“What have you done to me, Chloe Carpenter?” Taking another step, he reduced the distance
between us. I could smell his musky cologne and feel his body heat.

“You’re scaring me,” I peeped.

“It’s about time something scared you.”

Without warning, he reached around the back of my head with one vast hand, drawing
my mouth to his.

His lips pressed against mine; I melted — my knees all rubbery. Sensing my dilemma,
his other hand slid around my waist pulling me closer.

To my dismay, he was hard — everywhere.

A little moan escaped from the back of my throat as I parted my lips, allowing him
to explore my mouth. Sighing with pleasure, my hands moved of their own accord, finding
their way around his neck and into the thickness of his dark waves. His hair was as
I’d imagined, soft yet dense.

A delicious wildness hummed between us, I was reeling from its intensity.

Missy’s distinct braying-bark tore through my mind, reminding me I was locking lips
with a vicious, inhuman beast, all while the zebra looked on, fearing not only for
her own safety, but also, from the images she was firing my way, for mine.

“The zebra needs you,” I whispered.

“From what I can tell,
you
need me more.” Zane smirked.

“O-o-o-o-o … you.” The words wouldn’t form.

So much for self-control.

Deciding to hammer my raging hormones into submission, I approached Missy with caution.
I could see the pain and terror in her eyes. Apprehensive, she snorted as Zane moved
closer.

“You’re scaring her. How can you be a vet when the animals see you as a predator?”

“I’m great with lions, tigers, and bears, oh my.”

For a moment I just stared — a werewolf joking about the
Wizard of Oz
. Could things get any stranger?

I should have known better than even to think the question.

“How about you being
Little Red Riding Hood
and I’ll be the big bad wolf,” he roared with laughter, sending Missy into a braying
fit.

“Is everything all right?” Luke pushed through the swinging doors. Worry etched across
his face.

“Our new vet seems to have an obsession with fairytales.” I stopped to glare in his
direction. “And a desire to torment me and our poor zebra.”

“Zane, I have to tell you, I heard you laughing like …”

“A maniac,” I finished, pleased to have Luke on my side at last.

“I was going to say, like he was having a good time. It was Missy’s discomfort I was
worried about, not yours, Chloe.” Luke looked between us.

Ignoring Luke’s mutiny, I faced the zebra. She’d waited long enough for our diagnosis.

I rested one hand on her side and stroked her neck with the other, making sure to
gain direct eye contact. The graphic images she released were disgusting, fitting
with the horror-movie-theme from my previous day.

A well-muscled man, hidden inside a hooded sweatshirt, tore across the zebra’s meadow,
remaining crouched, low to the ground as he ran. It was nighttime, and I could feel
the horror as the human-beast ambushed Missy, slamming her to the ground.

The zebra screamed. Snarling, the
thing
sank his teeth into Missy’s leg, sucking and pulling blood from the thrashing zebra.

Forcing myself to stay with the scene, I felt a stream of fiery bile flood my mouth
as the man-beast raised his head, blood covering his face. He howled a deep guttural
cry that caused me to fall back from the zebra, almost collapsing.

Zane did his normal hero-rescue-thing and captured me in his arms, keeping me from
hitting the floor.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he whispered for my ears alone.

“Not a problem,” I stammered, wishing for more oomph behind my words.

“What was it?” Luke helped Zane get me to a stool. “What did you see?”

“Water?” I croaked, still dangerously close to losing my breakfast.

Zane vanished and returned with a fresh water bottle. I let the water soothe my throat.

“Let me check something.” I forced myself to stand and examine Missy’s right rear
leg. Sure enough, I located a large bruised patch that resembled a human hickey. I
motioned the men over.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Luke said.

I have.
Zane thought, glancing at me.
I’ll explain later.

“Okay …” I forgot to mind message.

“Okay, what?” Luke looked doubly confused.

“Okay, here’s the deal.” I determined right then I couldn’t tell my boss everything
I’d seen. He wouldn’t understand. Shoot! I didn’t understand. I did understand one
thing though: Zane didn’t want me sharing all the gruesome details with Luke.

“All I know for certain is some animal attacked Missy.” I paused, choosing my next
words with care. “It was gnawing and sucking on her leg. She was so frightened I couldn’t
get a clear picture. We should treat her for possible infection and pain.” I nodded
at Zane who was already moving toward the large, glass, medicine cabinet.

“Maybe it’s time I hire more than a sit-down security person,” Luke pondered. “With
our animals at risk … well, it seems prudent.”

We’d hired Henry, a retired San Francisco beat cop, to spend the nights in the front
ticket booth. The booth was a small room with a cot that opened into a single bed.
A TV and DVD player were added bonuses. Henry could access the gift shop area, restrooms,
coffeemakers, and all the essentials, through a side entrance into the main building.

There were also a number of video cameras placed strategically throughout the park,
but not enough to film everything at once.

If Henry suspected a major disturbance, he’d contact local police. Other than a few
high school kids looking for trouble, nothing major had ever occurred, until now.

“What are you thinking, a nighttime patrol?” I tried to hide my alarm. With what I
now knew about werewolves and their blood-drinking counterparts, the idea of some
poor, underpaid soul traipsing around after dark didn’t sit well with me. Add an estranged
serial killer to the mix, and you had a big fat recipe for disaster.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Zane mirrored my apprehension. “With our local serial
killer and all — “

“I’m open to suggestions.” Luke shrugged. “We’ve got to do something. I’ll try to
move a camera closer to the zebras, but what if other animals are being attacked?”

“If you don’t have anything major for us, Zane and I can interview the animals,” I
suggested. Who better to talk with than the actual witnesses?

Pleased with my idea, Luke returned to his normal duties.

“Well?” I turned to Zane who was giving poor Missy a shot of antibiotic mixed with
a pain medication.

“Working here,” he grunted.

“Meet me on the bench when you finish,” I commanded, before stomping away, maddened
by his nonchalant attitude.

At last, I was sipping a sugar-filled cup of coffee. I almost never took my fifteen
minute breaks, but today was an exception. Between Zane’s conflicting attitudes and
the zebra’s nightmarish experience, my Tuesday was becoming as bizarre as my Monday;
and it wasn’t even noon yet.

To make matters worse, Rhonda sauntered over. “I suppose you’ve heard.” She tilted
her head and puckered her silicon-stuffed lips, feigning sadness. I could tell she
was itching to spill the latest gossip or something worse.

“What now?” Fear clutched my heart like a vice as I envisioned another victim torn
to shreds.

“You don’t have to bite my head off,” she snapped. “Some woman called for Zane. She
said she was his fiancée. He doesn’t seem like the marrying type. I’d gotten the feeling
he was interested in me.”

“You’re telling me this
because
?” I tried to hide my annoyance. Jazmine, of course, came to mind. She’d referred
to Zane as her potential mate. I guessed that would suffice as fiancée in the werewolf
world.

“Well, you’re with him a lot at work. I wondered if he’d mentioned me or this future
wife.”

“Ladies.” Zane strode up, his Levis embracing every masculine bulge.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from the area just below his belt. I suspected Rhonda was
leering too — as if that made it any less unacceptable. By the glint in his eyes,
it was easy to see just how aware he was of our staring.

“Zane,” Rhonda purred. “When’s the wedding?”

I froze — my gawking indiscretion all but forgotten. Did this woman have no tact?
I wondered how Zane would explain Jazmine.

“Where’d you hear that nonsense?” He asked with obvious irritation.

“Your lady friend called. She happened to mention you were her husband-to-be. For
us single girls, it’s a major disappointment.”

“Don’t include me in your disappointed group of single girls,” I quipped.

Zane shot me an “if looks could kill” look.
Love you, too, Babe.

Eck! This mind-messaging was becoming as cumbersome as text-messaging. Why couldn’t
we just talk like two normal adults?
Because we’re not normal adults
, I chided myself. One werewolf plus one animal-reading-freak equaled a major mismatch.

“Chloe, we’d better get to work.” He raised his wrist, revealing a watch. “As for
future wives, Rhonda; I promise nothing is signed in blood.”

Clasping her hands, Rhonda giggled, unable to hide her pleasure. With a near-perfect
runway pivot she spun toward the courtyard, making her exit dramatic as usual.

She, of course, hadn’t picked up on the ominous way he’d said
blood
.

“I think we need to have our own talk prior to any animal conversations,” Zane said
minus any hidden innuendos I could identify.

“Where to?” The stone bench didn’t seem private enough. Too many tourists.

“The wolves. Where else?”

“Where else,” I agreed.

***

Chapter 9

Zane led the way around the wolf exhibit to a concealed bench at the enclosure’s far
end. He motioned for me to sit.

“I’d hate to have you fainting again,” he teased.

“I’m not a child,” I muttered. I was starting to feel like the damsel-in-distress
I’d worked so hard not to become.

“Oh, I’m well aware of your womanhood.” He slid close enough that our thighs brushed.
The electrical current tingled down my right leg.

“And, I’ve had to catch you more times in two days than I’ve caught any woman in my
lifetime.” He grinned. I noticed for the first time just how pointy his incisors were,
not full-fledged fangs, but sharp nevertheless.

I tried without success to ignore his closeness. “You wanted to talk, and I’m all
ears. By the way, you’re over-using our little mind telepathy thing.”

“I find it very convenient and stimulating.” He sounded like he meant it.

In truth, there was a part of me that found our private communications stimulating
as well. Not that I’d let Zane know. That would give him more unwanted power over
me.

“Since you’ve seen more than any human should, I’ll give you a rundown of what’s going
on. First, you should know, if you haven’t already figured it out, you’re in grave
danger.”

“You think?”

Danger pretty much oozed from Zane. Every moment in his presence was dangerous for
me. Except I couldn’t quite accept this gorgeous, very human-looking man, was the
same monstrous killing machine I’d seen in the clearing.

“For once, can you just listen without getting all defensive?”

I nodded. If I wanted to learn about werewolves and the impact they’d have on my life,
I’d have to surrender my sarcasm.

He continued. “As you’ve discovered, I’m not human. I’m a werewolf. I can change at
will, anytime, anywhere, and I’m lethal in my changed forms. I protect what is mine
with my life, and I destroy anyone or anything that challenges my pack’s safety.”

“
Your pack
?” I wondered if he’d protect me with his life. So far, he’d proven to be my personal
rescuer, a great listener; he’d even called me a good woman. Every time I tried to
remain focused on his evilness, I was bombarded by his goodness.

“Werewolves are divided into packs, some larger than others. I’m the Pacific Pack’s
Chief Enforcer. I’m second in command to our pack alpha, Logan Sanders, who is running
one of our casinos in Vegas. Our pack is the largest on the West Coast. We live along
the coast range, in Oregon and Washington, with a small contingent in California and
Nevada.

Jazmine, who you were unlucky enough to meet, was selected to be my mate when I was
just a pup. She, too, is a purebred. I despise her. There was a time, when we were
younger, that I was drawn to her, but that all changed when I saw the
real
Jazmine, who is none too charming.”

My curiosity got the better of me and I cut in, “She still wants to be your mate,
doesn’t she?” I couldn’t deny that the idea of Jazmine cuddled up to Zane infuriated
me.

“Not for the normal sentimental reasons. For her it’s all about power. Mated to me
she’d have substantial … privileges.”

I decided to wait before asking more about the so-called mating privileges. I didn’t
want to appear eager to become a werewolf’s mate.

Still experiencing some major anxiety about last night, I fired off a series of other
must-know questions. “Who were those men that assaulted you? Why did they look so
human? What about the Zebra’s attacker?”

“Whoa, slow down, I promise I’ll explain everything,” he reassured.

I wished there was a way to speed up our conversation. There was a way. “Since you
seem to like the convenience of our mental chit chat, what if you just
thought
everything you wanted to say. That way, I’ll see the images.” This seemed like the
perfect communication solution under the circumstances.

“Maybe I’d prefer to talk, you know, like two normal people.” He shrugged.

“Face it; we’re not your average Joe and Jane.”

“Take my hand.” He reached over, his unique musky scent filling my senses.

“Is this necessary?” Holding hands seemed way too intimate. After our recent kissing
session, my potential reaction to his touch worried me, making it difficult to discount
my feelings for him.

Ignoring my question, he grinned what seemed a very wolfy grin. In fact, I could see
the wolf in all his expressions. Instead of repelling me, I was even more curious.

“Okay.” I allowed his massive hand to cover my much smaller one.

His heat penetrated through my fingers, warming areas of my body never touched by
a man. I gulped, unable to look away from his gaze. The golden flecks in his eyes
expanded, his wildness captivating me.

The images he transferred into my mind were crystal clear, squelching any sensuous
feelings, and instead overwhelming my senses with the sights, smells, and sounds of
a large gathering.

Men, women, and children mingled; eating, drinking, and dancing to the folksy songs
of several musicians. Flowing skirts, cowboy hats, and denim coveralls were the fashion
trend. A scene from the late 1800’s or early 1900’s had unfolded before me.

Following polite applause, the families seated themselves on long benches and wooden
stools. A powerful looking man, with dark hair like Zane’s, moved with surprising
stealth to the front and faced the crowd.

“Friends and family, I’m proud, as your leader, to reestablish our peace treaty with
the local Indian tribes. Earlier today, we signed this document.” He held up a tanned
parchment. “This agreement is based on our ability, as the purebred pack, to maintain
control of the mutants, who have of late become very bothersome to our copper-skinned
friends.

Ladies and children, if you’d be so kind to let the men move to the meeting room.”

The women clustered together, talking in hushed tones as the men followed their leader
through a side door. One lone boy, who resembled the pack’s leader, stood off to the
side. His gaze followed the trail of departing men.

“Go on, boy. Your father agreed.” A gorgeous woman, with two smaller children clinging
to her skirt, prodded the older boy forward. After a brief hesitation, he dashed through
the entrance to join the men in the other room.

“Who is the boy?” I asked; certain he was a relation of Zane’s.

“My father. The leader, of course, was my granddad. This event marked our renewed
partnership with the Native American population. An agreement that’s stayed intact
until now.”

“What do you mean,
until now
?”

“Keep watching.” He squeezed my hand.

Following their meeting, the men exited the building, trudging in a triangular formation
into the darkness. They hiked deep into the forest, stopping outside a grassy clearing
occupied by a half-circle of misshapen lean-to’s that faced several glowing bonfires.

Around the fires, figures crouched, feasting on dead carcasses — some animals — others
human. Their hands and faces were splattered with gore.

Sensing the purebred pack, their lips receded. A series of snarls erupted from the
camp.

Zane’s pack shifted with unparalleled speed. A visual vibration surrounded them as
bones broke, split, and refitted together; faces stretched, forming the elongated
muzzles I recognized from last night. The pack’s height increased, giving them the
appearance of towering, fur-covered giants. Fangs glistened in the moonlight.

The nighttime peace was shattered by roars, snarls, and vicious growls as the two
sides launched into battle, their bodies forming a sea of fur and flesh.

From the start, the purebreds maintained a considerable advantage.

Able to change without a full moon, they dominated the mutants, pressing their advantage.
Flesh tearing and blood spraying, Zane’s pack moved through the camp like conquering
barbarians. The most attractive females, a group of ancient males, and the children,
were spared.

“They became our slaves. Some of our males chose their women as mates. It was a bad
idea. We should have complied with the Indians and destroyed them all. Then, maybe,
we wouldn’t be in the situation we’re in now,” Zane added, his expression grim.

“What situation?” I found myself hanging on Zane’s explanations.

“When you leave enemies amongst you, in time, they find a way to rebel. In the late
sixties, we agreed to let the mutants move on. The ones remaining in the wild, so
to speak, had been staying away from humans, trying to blend into society like the
rest of us.

With the Indians’ approval, we decided to allow them limited freedom. Our pack chose
the strongest males to enforce the long-established law — no feeding off humans or
human-owned livestock. Unlike us, mutants have greater difficulty ignoring the bloodlust,
particularly during a full moon.”

“So these mutants became mutants in the first place because you guys snacked on them?
You haven’t explained how they came into existence other than saying they were ‘bitten.’”
I struggled to keep everything straight.

“Let’s just say our ancient ancestors discovered that by biting humans they could
convert them into wolf-like creatures — to do their dirty work. They hoped these mixed-breeds
would serve as additional warriors and slaves.

Instead of building a loyal army, they ended up creating an enemy. For centuries,
we’ve paid for our relatives’ mistakes.” He looked down, as if to gather his thoughts.

“In recent years, we’ve been able to keep things under control. Now we’ve come to
believe that some of our own are partnering with the mutants to stir up trouble with
the Indians, hoping to take a bite of our financial success while destroying our overall
credibility.”

“Where does Ms. Jazmine fit into all this?” My brain was reaching its capacity, but
I couldn’t rest without knowing about my arch rival.

“Like I mentioned last night, she works for our casinos. I serve on the Board of Directors,
an honor she’s always wanted. Our parents presented us as future mates before the
combined Native American Werewolf Council when we were about seven or eight. Regardless
of my aversion to her, tradition requires that unless another true partner is revealed,
we must mate, or, as you humans say, marry.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Marrying without love sounded like
the worst possible fate.

“She showed up here, because when I turn twenty-eight next month, we’re supposed to
present ourselves before the council elders as mates. Believe me; I’m trying everything
to get out of this archaic agreement. If I can prove she’s up to something that endangers
the pack’s well-being, in any way, I’m free from her — forever.” He sighed. “That’s
the proven way, unless my true, fated mate appears, although that’s not likely. Most
of our kind never locates their actual mates.”

His last words provided an unexpected solution along with a flood of nervous jitters.
I could be the woman to save him from Jazmine.

Ridiculous! I couldn’t marry, mate, or whatever it entailed with Zane. He was a werewolf.
With my assorted background I was all for interracial relationships. Interspecies?
— The jury was still out on that possibility.

I forced my thoughts back to the Jazmine issue.

“What do you think she’s doing to threaten the pack?” I asked, hoping for an answer
I could understand. Helping Zane expose her plan seemed like a pretty noble cause.
Anything to keep Ms. Jazmine far-far away from Plum Beach — and me — was well worth
my time.

“I’m not sure. She’s always been manipulative. What are you thinking?” Zane drew me
closer, my hand still in his.

“That I don’t like her, and I still don’t know why those men showed up at the bar.”
He’d failed to explain
that
little, very important piece of the puzzle. “And what about the bodies?” I was shocked
the story hadn’t been splashed across the front page of today’s paper.

“Good eye for details, Princess. Those dead dogs were here to deliver a little warning.”
He grimaced. “The mutants aren’t the only ones scheming and positioning for power
and money. I’ve been assigned to investigate the suspicious murders in Plum Beach,
but Logan also believes that several Indian elders may be double-crossing the pack.
Jazmine fits into all this somehow. The news is out now that I’m sniffing around.

Since I’ve eliminated the messengers, things will heat up that much faster. As for
the remains, I have a friend who handles clean up.”

“Well, I think you’ve got pretty good instincts for a werewolf,” I said, hoping I
sounded confident. I was pretty spooked about everything, and the idea of more danger
didn’t help.

I’d already decided I didn’t want to know anything else about his little clean up
committee. What I did want to learn more about was Jazmine. I knew for certain that
she was somehow up to her fangs in whatever was happening.

To conclude our discussion, Randall, th
e wolf, howled an eerie wail that sent chills winding down my spine, reminding me
¯ Jazmine was a werewolf to be reckoned with — a werewolf I’d do just about anything,
including howling at the moon, to keep away from Zane.