Make Me Howl (3 page)

Norman turned to watch Bella’s rear as she walked away then moved closer to my cage. “He’s a mean one, Doc. Maybe we should test him for rabies.”

Doc didn’t answer Norman as he gazed at me. His blue eyes were dark this morning, almost midnight blue, which made me wonder if he’d had a rough night.

He took a long breath then blew it out as he shook his head. “She.”

“Say
whut
?

“This is a female wolf. A bitch.” His tone of voice as he said the word made the anger inside me explode. Did he just enjoy saying the word that describes female canines and nasty women?

Unable to bear being so near Norman, I paced in front of the bars. Exhausted and thirsty, I wanted nothing more than a drink of cool water and to lie down for a nap—just not while they were watching.

“So what are we going to do with her?” Norman asked. Hunkering down like a caveman, he poked the end of a choke stick into my cage to see if I would go for it. What kind of idiots did he think wolves were? As if a wild animal didn’t know the difference between an inanimate object and a walking, talking man? Besides his poking, the tone of his voice, the way he said the words, even his breathing irritated me.

How would his blood taste as it spurted from torn flesh to pour hot across my tongue and down my throat. Salty? Tart? Nasty because of his ancient aftershave?

I was tired of Norman’s staring. Licking my lips, I lowered my head and stared at him as I had the night before. After a moment I started a low growl deep in the back of my throat then very slowly crouched as I lifted the hair on my back.

He started sweating, his face drained and, again, he turned ogre green. Scrambling to get up from his squat, he dropped the pole as he landed on his butt in the dirt. Just where he belonged.

Rolling clumsily to his knees, he got to his feet and hurried away. Now I turned my stare on Doc. For all his good looks, I’d grown tired of his company, too.

But he just continued to look at me, even when I upped my growl decibels. “You are something to look at, Beauty. You go right ahead and growl if it makes you feel better. Being caged must be hard when you’re used to the wild.”

After several incredibly long moments, Bella strolled back to stand near Doc, but from the way she was breathing, I knew she’d run all the way there. While she was gone, she’d put on a white smock that said Veterinarian Bella Cannis over the pocket.

Too bad I couldn’t ask her if that was so she wouldn’t forget who she was.

“What do you think, Doc?” Bella’s voice was huskier than usual. Worrying over me, her sister-in-the-can must have been a little much for her. “What are we going to do about this wolf?”

“Do?” He shook his head. “She doesn’t belong to Safari Land just because she came around to make our party more exciting.”

“So we turn her loose?” Bella looked at me while she spoke.

“Yeah, we turn her loose.”

But Bella pushed the subject. “Do you think she might have come from Lost Canyon?”

Doc frowned, probably trying to figure why always-busy Bella cared. “That’s as good a guess as any, and it’s not that far as the crow flies, so it makes sense. I’ll tell Tony to take the old mail route and release her near the canyon. If that’s not her normal territory, she’ll find her own way home.”

“Why don’t
we
take her?” Bella asked. I wondered if he could hear the desperation in her voice as well as I could.

“You want to drive all the way to the canyon with her, rather than letting Tony do it?”

“Sure. Why not?” She nodded until I was afraid her head had come loose. “It’s a gorgeous day and we might get to see some more of her pack.”

“Fine. I’ll get the key to the truck.” He strode away.

While he was gone, Bella rushed to the cage door. “When he releases you, stay close. I’ll come back for you just as fast as I can.”

While it’s hard for a wolf to pout, over the years, I’d perfected the art. I spoke in her mind.
Yeah. You do that
.

When Doc returned, he picked up the choke stick where Norman had dropped it. After adjusting the stick’s noose, he moved it between the bars and fitted it around my neck. He put a key in the cage’s lock, made sure Bella was out of the way, opened the door and stepped inside with me.

I had to make it look good, so I put up a token resistance before settling down.

It just took me a moment to adjust to the foreign object around my neck—like an old lady wearing a tight necklace. But I didn’t want to look like a trained pooch on a leash, so I kept myself in a near crouch, ready to spring or run.

He led me to a tiger striped truck and locked me in a cramped cage in the back. I just prayed I wouldn’t get car sick in that airless, miniscule box.

When he removed the noose, I wanted to rub the chaffed place, but thought better of it.

Riding where I was, I could tell Doc had to be the absolute worst driver in the world. In a relatively short distance, he hit every bump, bounced in and out of every rut and quite possibly found every rock in every road we were on. I wanted to spew. Bad.

Finally, the truck came to a stop. Both Doc and Bella came to let me out, but he made her stay back when he opened the door. Unable to stop myself, I had to show off just a little.

Taking a fantastic leap from the cage—if I do say so myself—I ran a few yards, then stopped and braced my front feet on a small boulder. Raising my chin, I howled at the top of my lungs, and waited as if I expected an answer.

“Go on, Beauty. Have a wonderful life.”

I gazed at him for a moment, lifted my head high, turned my tail toward him and charged into the nearby woods, where I hid in the underbrush.

He stood there for a long time. Then, as if he’d suddenly remembered Bella was with him, he turned back to the truck. “We’d better go.”

After they left, I paced through the trees for an eternity while I waited for Bella. What could she be doing? She knew I was waiting and in need of a cup of coffee.

A dull headache pounding in my skull, I moved to a nearby jumble of boulders that looked as if a baby giant had used them for building blocks. At the base was a small crevice. Not a cave, really. It wasn’t large enough for that. But it had a stone floor and one rock had fallen on another, leaving an opening just big enough. I squeezed inside and put my aching head against the cool rock to sooth the pain.

And not only would it help my headache, if I fell asleep and shifted back to human form, I’d still be naked. In my stone cubby I wouldn’t be as easily spotted as if I were in the open.

I lay there for some time, unable to sleep because of the pain in my brain. After what seemed like hours I scented her, coming through the trees. Inching out of my hole in the rock, I ran to her.

“What took you so long?” I snarled.

She frowned hard at me then whipped off the smock. “Shut up and put this on. I had to lie to Doc and tell him I had an errand in town. And you know how I hate to lie.”

Sitting down, I drew into my cool center and tried to think calming thoughts. It wasn’t easy when I’d rather tear something or someone to pieces with my teeth than go calm, but I had an appointment with one of Fort Worth’s wealthiest matrons.

After several cleansing breaths, I was no longer vertically challenged.

Bella glanced at me, a smile playing around her lips as she helped me into her smock. “All these times I’ve seen you morph from woman to wolf and back again, and I still am dumbfounded each time you do it.”

“At least I don’t chase chickens anymore,” I answered before she had a chance to torment me with her favorite memory jab. We walked back to her car. “I used to tear off their heads and eat them, feathers and all, just to watch you gag.”

“What two-year-old wouldn’t?” She chuckled at the memory as we got into her Volvo. “And poor Dad. Grandma Maleva always said she tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“I have a feeling she didn’t use the word werewolf in that conversation.” I chuckled, too, as I remembered my favorite grandmother. “There’s no telling how people will react.”

“I miss her,” Bella whispered softly.

“Me, too.”

Thirty minutes later, Bella dropped me at the apartment and went back to work while I turned on the shower. Thank goodness I hadn’t made the appointment any earlier. As it was, I would have trouble getting to my office on time.

After I swallowed a couple of aspirin, I rushed through my shower. I let my hair out to its full length to hit it with shampoo a couple of times before drawing it back to the most manageable and, at least for me, flattering length.

Trying to make quick work of it, I squirted shower gel directly on my body, then grabbed the hippo-shaped scrubby Bella had put in my stocking last Christmas. I enjoyed the light brushing sensation on my skin until I got to my rear end. As I touched my right buttock, a sharp pain shot through me. I glanced down to see an angry, black bruise on my ass.

I got out of the shower, dripping like a crystal pitcher on a humid, Texas day, and looked in the mirror. The bruise covered most of that cheek, and there was a small scab exactly in the middle.

The realization hurt almost as much as my butt. Someone had shot me with some kind of tranquilizer, and Bella had been too chicken to tell me. Screeching my outrage, I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around myself and marched to the telephone. When her cell went directly to voicemail, I opened the personal phone book we shared and looked for her work number. The hard part was deciphering it. Why hadn’t someone told her in the beginning that just because she was a doctor, she didn’t have to write like one?

After dialing the number, I tapped my almost dry foot to expend some of the pent up anger. When someone finally answered, it was Doc. His deep, sexy voice almost melted me into the floor. “Clinic.”

After a heart-pounding breathless moment, I said, “This is Jazzy Cannis, Bella’s sister—”

“Gypsy Dancer?” he teased, his voice a bit softer but every bit as fascinating.

A thousand thoughts darted through my mind. Why was it simple words, even from miles away, could turn a girl on?

I pictured his mouth, full and well defined, and imagined the words coming from them. I loved the way he smiled and laughed, which made me wonder, would his lips be soft, yet warm? Firm and sweet?

I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. “Yes, the gypsy dancer. I was trying to reach my sister. It seems her cell is either turned off or she has a dead battery.”

“Want to leave a message with me? She’s in surgery so she can’t talk. “

Brain going numb, just like it did when Bella started speaking vet, I decided to break off. “Sure. Tell her I might be late tonight. I have to meet with the models for the fashion show later this month.”

After hanging up, I hurried to get dressed. I had to look good. After all, I had an appointment. But with the way my head pounded, I needed comfort more. So I did a quick makeup job, except on my eyes. There I had to pull a couple of tricks out of my bag to keep the hangover from being obvious. Next I pulled out my Scarlett Johansen ensem. Designed as it was, the body skimming fabric and dip-down-to-there neckline kept people from noticing, without a waistline, it was as comfortable as a bathrobe.

Too bad I couldn’t do that with my shoes. For some reason, women who could afford to hire a fashion consultant expected them to have fabulous footwear. Or maybe I was just known for having shoes to die for, but anytime I tried to go easy on my feet, my ladies whined.

Extremely grateful for condo garages so I wouldn’t have to go outside, I grabbed my bag, put on my sunglasses and rushed to ours where I slid into my Z4. Starting the car and shifting into gear, I took off for the office.

Although the drive to the high-end mall where I kept my office was, in Texas terms, just around the corner, getting there seemed to take forever. And the line at the drive-thru at Starbucks didn’t help matters.

What is it about a hangover that can stretch time?

Naturally, after I chipped a nail in my rush to get the office door unlocked, there was a message on my voicemail, canceling the afternoon appointment.

Irritated enough to bite the furniture, I stormed to the desk and flicked on my laptop so I could check my calendar. Nothing for the entire day until that evening, when I had a meeting with the models for the fashion show.

Since most of my afternoon was open, I decided to do a little reading. Online. When I clicked on the Internet, my browser opened to the
Dallas Morning News
. I read through a story about the party at Safari Land and what a roaring success it had been—apparently that stupid pun was intended. A related story announced a dedication dinner in a few weeks, where Dr. Chase Holliday would be the main speaker.

Then I tried to remember the name of the wolf gene he told Bella he wanted to eradicate and decided to Google it. After spelling it about every possible way, I found it. The Syzygia Gene was the topic of an article about a doctor in South America. From the way it was written, the reporter thought it was a joke, calling the gene that caused lycanthropy mythical.

I stared in disbelief at the screen as realization penetrated my still cloudy brain.

Doc Holliday—a werewolf hunter.

Chapter Two

Anger poured over me, flamed my veins, scorched my lungs and filled my heart with fire. I could hardly breathe, much less think. I was so furious, my nails curved into claws. My muscles tensed with energy as the fury grew. Unable to sit, I prowled the office from my desk past the loveseat and chairs to the door and back, into the next room with its mirrored dressing space, then started over.