Wolf Tales IV

by Kate Douglas

  Lisa stared at her hand for a moment, then brushed both hands against her jeans. “You’re right. I have so many questions, I don’t know where to begin.”

  “We can start with this mess. Let’s get your furry friends’ dinner loaded, and I’ll follow you back to the sanctuary.”

  Lisa tilted her head and looked up at him. “You’re not quite dressed for the job.”

  “No problem.” Tinker leaned over, grabbed the deer by the front legs and shoulders, flexed his muscles, and easily lifted the heavy body into the truck in one quick move, without getting any of the gore on his clothes. He slammed the tailgate shut and grinned at Lisa. He knew he was strutting, damn it, but he couldn’t help himself.

  She burst into laughter and clapped her hands. “Uh, never mind. Thank you.”

  Tinker wiped his hands on the damp towel she handed him, then helped Lisa into the cab. “How about I just follow you back?”

  She looked him over, and Tinker hoped like hell she liked what she saw.

  “Okay. It’s only a couple miles.” Lisa turned and winked. “Follow carefully. I brake for roadkill.”

  Lisa hoped the hunky guy in the car behind her knew she wasn’t kidding when she said she braked for roadkill. She’d made three stops over the past mile and gathered up two opossums and a raccoon that hadn’t made it across the road. As much as she hated the constant death along this stretch of highway bordering a small mountain lake, she welcomed the chance to feed the confined wolves fresh meat.

  Doing this disgusting chore, useful though it might be, also freed her mind to think about more important things. Like who was the unbelievably sexy man who followed her? She never reacted to men as she had to him, and his touch had been absolutely electrifying. There was something about him that went well beyond the fact he claimed to know her brother and sister. Something that reminded her of the wolves she cared for at the sanctuary, a wariness that belied his easy smile and sexy good looks.

  He really did look like some sort of cover model, especially with those light-colored slacks and that neatly pressed white shirt. There was something unbelievably lush and attractive about his dark, dark skin next to that white shirt, the way he wore the long sleeves rolled back to expose his strong wrists.

  He wasn’t wearing any jewelry. Lisa’d noticed his left hand right away, checked for that telltale band of gold or, even worse, a lighter mark left by the recent removal of a ring. Why she’d notice so much about him left her feeling flustered and uneasy. Generally men didn’t do much for her, one way or another. No, she’d given up on men long ago, but that was another story altogether.

  She drove through the open gate to the sanctuary’s visitor’s center, pulled around behind the log building, and parked beside the long, low barn where they kept the refrigerators and supplies for feeding the wolves. One of the regular volunteers, a kid from the local high school who’d started working at the sanctuary shortly before Lisa was hired, ran out to help move the bodies. He was a good kid, suffering from a bit of hero-worship, but always around to help when an extra set of hands was needed. Luckily, his class schedule seemed to give him all the free time he needed to work at the sanctuary.

  “Hi, Seth. You might need the cart for this haul.”

  “I’ll get it, Ms. Quinn.” Seth made a U-turn and went back inside. Tall and lanky with dark hair that never stayed combed, he reminded Lisa of her older brother when they were kids.

  Funny, she’d been thinking of Baylor today, especially considering the man she’d just met. Lisa climbed out of the truck and waved to Tinker as he pulled the little red convertible into a parking spot near the visitor’s center.

  Silly name for a man that size. He had to be six and a half feet tall if he was an inch, with broad shoulders and muscled thighs even his loose pants couldn’t disguise. There weren’t many men who made Lisa feel small, but he’d done it back there on the highway. Stepping up close to shake her hand, he’d surprised her with his sheer size, with the graceful way he moved in spite of his height and muscular build.

  Seth came back outside with the wheeled cart and opened the tailgate. “Eeeww. Gross.” He pulled on rubber gloves and reached for the dead deer.

  “Here. I’ll help you.” Tinker reached for the animal’s front legs.

  Seth stopped him. “Mister, you’re always supposed to wear rubber gloves when you handle this stuff. It can carry all kinds of diseases.”

  Tinker grinned at Lisa. She felt her skin grow hot. She always forgot about the damned gloves. “Oh, you are? I didn’t realize that.” He held his hand out. “I’m Tinker McClintock. A friend of Ms. Quinn’s.”

  Lisa slanted a glance at Tinker. We’ll see about that.

  Yes. We definitely will.

  Lisa blinked. How the hell…? She had to have been imagining the sound of his voice in her head. Lisa blinked again and smiled at Seth. She had the strangest feeling the high school student was suddenly eyeballing Tinker as a potential rival. At least Seth managed to shake the man’s hand without making a scene.

  Lisa felt like her head was spinning when Tinker took the extra set of gloves from Seth and helped load the dead animals onto the cart. It was almost as if she and this stranger were communicating on some unspoken level. The same way it had been last night when she sat among the wolves; except then she’d seen images and now she was hearing voices.

  Aware of an unexpected flash of arousal and a sudden rush of moisture between her thighs, Lisa realized communication wasn’t the only thing similar to her experience last night. She caught her breath against the tide of need surging through her body.

  “Ms. Quinn?” Seth was standing in front of her as if waiting for a comment. She’d missed whatever he must have said. Lisa took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face.

  “I’m sorry, Seth. What?”

  “I said, Mr. Dunlop was looking around the place this morning. I was wondering why he’s here.”

  Lisa took a deep breath and sighed. The benefactor of the sanctuary rarely set foot on the premises, but the one time Lisa had met him, she’d felt extremely uncomfortable in his presence. Weird, really, to react like that, especially since he was the one with the money that made the sanctuary possible. “He does own the place, so I guess he can come anytime he wants.” She forced a soft laugh. “Thanks for telling me, Seth. If I find out anything that’s going on, I’ll be sure and let you know.”

  “Mr. Anderson acted like it was no big deal that the owner had showed up unannounced.” Seth snorted and then laughed. “He sure was bowing and scraping, though, when Mr. Dunlop’s limo pulled in.”

  “Well, Mr. Dunlop is the reason these wolves are still alive. He spends a lot of money to keep the sanctuary viable.”

  Seth nodded. “Yeah. I know…He’s just sort of a weird dude, and Mr. Anderson is a turd.” With a defiant glance toward the main office, Seth lifted the handles on the cart and pushed the heavy load into the barn.

  Lisa watched him until he disappeared into the shadows, then turned her attention to Tinker. She’d felt his presence, almost as if he were in her head, thinking her thoughts. Thank goodness he wasn’t there now. It hadn’t been an uncomfortable feeling, sharing space in her mind with someone else, but it was definitely strange.

  She watched as he peeled the rubber gloves off his big hands and tossed them in the nearby trash. Stared at him and wondered just who the hell he was and why she felt this strange connection that went so far beyond mere physical attraction.

  He stared right back at her. “Is there someplace where we can talk? There’s a lot I need to tell you, and it’s not something we can discuss in public.”

  Lisa blinked again, caught herself mid-question, and nodded. “We both need to wash up first. Seth wasn’t kidding about the germs and stuff. Then let me check in at the office, let them know I’ll be away for a while. I need to tell them the winch died…again. Maybe with Mr. Dunlop around we can get a new one.” She flashed a broad grin at Tinker. “We can go to m
y place. It’s just up the road. My Jeep’s in the parking lot out back.”

  Lisa caught herself, hearing her words as if they’d been spoken by someone else. She couldn’t believe she’d invited him home! Oddly enough, she trusted Tinker McClintock, a man she’d known for less than an hour. Lord knew why, but she didn’t fear him. It almost made her laugh, to think she was taking a strange man into her home, she who rarely had anything at all to do with men.

  Tinker parked his rental car next to her beat-up old Jeep and waited until Lisa got out and glanced his way, silently inviting him to follow. The cabin she lived in was small, set off from the road in a copse of old growth fir, almost completely hidden from view until one followed the narrow drive from the main road.

  It fit her. Fit everything about her. Tinker smiled in anticipation. What he intended to tell Lisa Quinn would rock her world. Rock it, then set it upright for the first time in her life. He knew exactly what she would think, what she would feel.

  He’d been there. Not all that long ago, he’d been there.

  The memories hit Tinker hard and fast, jarred him more than usual. He’d just finished his tour of duty in Afghanistan, returned to the States, and wondered what the hell he was going to do next. The military hadn’t answered his questions, hadn’t fulfilled the unnamed need in his life. Nothing had, until he met Ulrich Mason.

  Tall, silver-haired, imposing as hell, yet with a gift of understanding that Tinker envied to this day. Ulrich had invited him to San Francisco, asked him to come to a meeting with his company, an investigative agency he called Pack Dynamics.

  The irony of the name was no longer lost on Tinker. At the time, though, Mason had merely explained that he’d sensed something in Martin McClintock that no one else had seen. Something different.

  Something unbelievable. Mason had talked about an ancient species of shapeshifters—men and women who could change from human to wolf in a heartbeat. Not werewolves of the horror movie variety. No, the Chanku were different. Better. Independent of the moon or seasons or hormones. Driven only by their need to be one with the pack, their amazing sexuality, their loyalty to their one true mate, to their brothers and sisters within their strongly connected family.

  It had all seemed like a wild fantasy until Mason did the unbelievable. He’d shifted. Stripped out of his neat business suit right there in the front room of his Marina District home, stripped down buck-naked, and turned into a huge wolf right in front of Tinker.

  Definitely one of those moments a man doesn’t forget. He’d scared the shit out of Tinker. Then Ulrich had shifted back to his familiar human self, casually put his clothes back on, and explained to Tinker that he was certain they were brothers under the skin.

  Chanku. Shapeshifters. Members of an ancient race born on the Tibetan steppe, creatures of those rugged plains who had spread out and moved far from their homeland. They’d gone far enough away to miss the special grasses and plants that provided the traces of specific nutrients that fed a small gland at the base of their brains, a tiny organ near the hypothalamus that allowed them to shift from human to wolf and back again.

  Tinker had wanted so badly to believe, so much to belong to something remotely close to a family…a family where everyone was the same despite the color of their skin. He’d taken the big capsules Mason had given him, swallowed one each day and figured it was all some sort of joke, a sleight of hand so to speak. Then, after about a week, he’d noticed a difference in perception. An ability to smell things he’d not noticed before, an increase in his already overactive libido—and a desire for raw meat.

  When the change had come, Tinker’d been ready for it. He’d had a more difficult time adjusting to the sense of family the pack offered than to the ability to change from man to wolf. Pack Dynamics. The company Ulrich founded as much as a cover for the few Chanku he’d been able to find as it was a venue for them to use and develop their skills as wolves—and as men.

  He’d gained a wonderful code of honor from Ulrich, as well as a family and something powerful to believe in. Ulrich Mason had given Tinker the chance to believe in himself for the first time in his life.

  Tinker glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He saw what he thought of as an average man, dark of skin with amber eyes, a ready smile. The same thing Lisa Quinn saw when she looked at him. No one would ever suspect the beast that lived within.

  Only another of his species would know, could know, what Martin McClintock was capable of doing. Of becoming.

  Tinker grinned, opened the door of the little car, and unfolded his big frame as he climbed out. Lisa Quinn was about to learn all about Martin McClintock. And, in the process, she just might learn one hell of a lot more about herself.

  Lisa held the door open and followed Tinker inside. She really loved the way he walked, sort of a loose-limbed stroll, as if he owned the ground he stood upon and feared nothing. In some ways, he reminded her of the alpha males in any of the established wolf packs at the sanctuary.

  Plus, he had the finest ass she’d ever seen on either man or woman. Tinker McClintock epitomized power, self-confidence, and sex, a potent aphrodisiac as far as Lisa was concerned.

  She’d never been all that attracted to men, but something about this particular male left her breathless and much too aware of their isolation in her cabin, too aware of her instant and insistent sexual need for a total stranger.

  Did he really know Baylor and Mary Ellen? Did it matter? Hell, she hardly knew her brother and sister. They’d grown up in a family that defined the term dysfunctional. The last time they’d seen each other was at their father’s sentencing for the murder of his wife.

  He’d killed their mother when he caught her screwing the postman. Shot both his wife and her lover while Lisa watched, horrified, from an open doorway. She’d testified against the man who’d always denied his paternity of her, heard him threaten her life as he was led, shackled and cursing, from the courtroom.

  There’d been little said among the three siblings. They’d all had the same mother, but only Baylor had looked remotely like their father.

  Daughters of a whore. That’s what their father had called them. Maybe he was right. It didn’t matter now. Nothing really mattered. Nothing beyond the wolves. Beyond keeping them safe. At least the wolves were creatures Lisa almost understood.

  She turned around and quietly shut the door, then leaned back against the frame with the doorknob clutched in her fingers at the small of her back. Tinker watched her from across the small room, his beautiful eyes wary, his smile hinting more of questions than answers. He was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, with his close-cropped yet silky-looking black hair, long straight nose with just the slightest flare to his nostrils, and lips that looked full and firm and eminently kissable. Lisa raised her chin and took a deep breath. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, felt the trickle of sweat between her breasts.

  Felt the moisture gathering between her legs, her body welcoming this man in a way her mind would never allow. His nostrils flared. Her breath caught. Did he scent her arousal? Did he know how little control she had over her libido? Thank goodness she’d taken the time to clean up in the restroom at the sanctuary, or he’d be smelling more than her arousal!

  Lisa almost chuckled aloud. This was so typical of her luck. For the first time in her life she was standing within fucking distance of the sexiest man she’d ever seen, and their first meeting had been over roadkill.

  Her glance fell to the front placket of his slacks. There was a noticeable bulge at his groin, a sizeable swelling along his left inner thigh that accelerated Lisa’s already racing heartbeat. Obviously, the whole dead animal thing hadn’t put him off a bit. She licked her lips and looked up, directly at his face, and realized she was concentrating on his mouth, on the full curve of his lips.

  Neither of them had said a word, yet the room seemed full of conversation, a silent communion that was pure foreplay of the mind, totally without touch. There was no denying the fact
the air was stuffed with pheromones. Lisa cleared her throat. Tinker wiped his palms along his thighs and grinned.

  He took a step forward, halted, and shrugged his shoulders, then his smile grew even wider. “I have a suggestion, Ms. Quinn, that might help us with our discussion.”

  Lisa nodded. Her mouth was too dry to speak.

  “There’s an amazing amount of tension here in this little cabin of yours. It’s a powerful deterrent to having any kind of adult conversation. Why don’t you and I just spend some time taking care of that tension before we go any further.”

  Lisa swallowed. The sound practically echoed in the small room. She blinked but couldn’t answer. Of course, she didn’t really know the question, did she? Finally Lisa managed to find her voice. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

  Tinker laughed and spread his hands wide. “Well, I think we should both get naked, rub a little, touch a little, and fuck like bunnies. I imagine it’ll take care of whatever it is that’s making you so nervous.”

  Lisa blinked. Fought down the giggles that threatened to burst out. Just like that? He wanted to have sex when they’d just met? He had to be kidding!

  She took another look at the twinkle in his eyes, the sexy smile on his mouth…and then let her gaze slide lower. The bulge in his pants was even larger, more impressive than it had been just a moment before.

  He wasn’t kidding. For all the silly talk, the man was deadly serious. Lisa tried to make some appropriate quip but couldn’t get the words out. The thought came unbidden—there probably wasn’t an appropriate quip to be made. Not to a suggestion like that!

  Tinker reached out a hand. Lisa stared at it for what felt like forever. His hand was huge, the fingers long and slim, his palm much lighter than the back. His nails were neatly clipped, and she thought he had artist’s hands, the hands of a man who could create with a touch, hands capable of either strength or gentleness.