Blood Born

by Catherine Wolffe

  The trio could have walked to the diner, but Duke enjoyed showing off his ladies as he referred to Katie and Meagan. Grinning at the two love birds, she relaxed some.

  “So Katie tells me Mr. O’Hare has been by looking for the Sultan.”

  Meagan glanced from Duke to Katie and back. She willed the agitation at being cornered with the two of them while they discovered all she knew. “Yes, he’s a bounty hunter, you know.” She stabbed a spear of broccoli with her fork. “Seems the Sultan is alive and well and out of jail. Dorran – Mr. O’Hare said he tracked him out to the farm. He found a cigarette butt near the property line. I had already seen a figure there earlier as I fed Traveler.”

  Katie chimed in. “Pilot said he’s a hybrid.” She leaned close to Duke. “Blood from J.T. healed his injuries sustained in battle.” Giving Meagan a slight smile, she scooped up her egg roll and took a bite.

  Duke nodded, saying nothing. His food sat where he’d placed it on his plate.

  Meagan wished she’d considered his presence more when she agreed to go to lunch. Duke would not take any connection with a supernatural being lightly when it came to her safety. “He’s been back to the farm and to the shelter as well?”

  Her grip on the fork tightened. “Yes, he has. His investigation has unearthed some interesting news about the Sultan having a family.” This garnered both of their attentions. “Seems he had two daughters living in Cheniere Station. DNA confirms it.” Rolling her Orange Chicken around on the plate, Meagan sighed. “They may be slaves as well. Dorran couldn’t confirm that but said they had nothing to say as to the Sultan’s whereabouts.”

  Duke leaned back in his chair. “I’d think they are in on the Sultan’s plans. It doesn’t matter overly how they got to where they are. It is what it is.”

  Meagan nodded slowly. She had to agree with Duke. DNA didn’t lie. The thought made her stomach squirm. “Do you mind if I ask if you’ve heard from Logan and Aubrie?”

  Duke glanced up from his food. “They’ll be back soon. Logan said they were cutting their vacation short due to these new developments. I expect them in the next few days.”

  Meagan smiled, though she didn’t feel very confident at the moment.

  Katie was the one who steered the conversation elsewhere, and the rest of the meal finished up smooth and tidy.

  Meagan was happy when she hit the doors of the shelter that day. Love did that to a person, she mused – no matter what form it took. She turned and waved to them. “Thanks, guys. See you later.”

  “Let us know when you need a lift home, okay?”

  Nodding, she watched them leave. The dogs barking from behind the outdoor runs beckoned as the truck disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  Her mind was on the dog – the one who had spoken to her the day before. Surely it was her imagination playing tricks. After all, she liked to answer for the dogs when she asked them a question or offered a treat. She simply transferred the voice she mimicked to the dog and imagined the whole thing. The animal had not spoken to her.

  “Sally?”

  Meagan scanned the run. It was empty. Sally wasn’t there. Examining the tag, she breathed the number out loud, “465.”

  Footfalls sounded behind her, and she whirled to find Dorran standing there. She must have looked frightened because concern filled his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t find Sally.” Air was hard to come by as she sought the dog out among the other runs.

  “Where is she?” Dorran followed closely behind her.

  “I don’t know.” Meagan gripped the last run’s gate and shook it. “She’s not here. Something must have happened to her. She was on ‘Stray Hold.’ She couldn’t have been adoptable until her seven days were up.” Glancing at him, she continued, “We have to find her.”

  Racing to the front of the building, Meagan burst into the office in a flurry of waving arms. “Where’s Sally?” The question came out coated in accusation.

  Sue sat behind the desk idly tapping keys on the computer’s keyboard. Her bored, uninterested expression was obvious on her pudgy face.

  “Where’s Sally?” Meagan repeated. “She’s not in her cage.”

  “Who?” Sue uttered the one word without so much as the civility to look up at Meagan.

  “Tag 465,” Dorran supplied the answer as he joined them. “Where’s the dog tagged number 465?”

  Sue straightened in her chair. Her gaze fixed on Dorran with more interest than she had shown so far. It took only one look from him to get her attention, Meagan mused. The idea didn’t sit well at all.

  “Tag 465,” she repeated as she keyed in the number. “Oh, yeah, she’s at the vet’s office getting checked out. Why do you ask?”

  The bitch smiled at Dorran using a come-hither look that made Meagan’s skin crawl. Stepping closer to the desk, she laid a hand on the woodgrain surface. “Does she have a foster yet?” The tone wasn’t friendly or even professional. Meagan wanted answers.

  Sue’s cool glance in her direction proved telling. Her attention returned to Dorran as she answered, “No. You want to foster her?”

  Dorran moved in close behind Meagan. With a possessive hand in the middle of her back, he replied. “Yes, we would like to foster Sally, tag 465.”

  The woman’s I don’t-give-a-fuck attitude surfaced again at the mention of their combined interest in fostering the dog. “All right. I’ll get the papers ready for you to sign.”

  Meagan wheeled on her heel and headed for the door. Sue was an asshole, like so many others she dealt with daily. Her hatred of the shelter director wasn’t going to end in a showdown that day. She would bide her time. Hitting the door with the palm of her hand satisfied her briefly as she left the office for the breakroom. Air was what she needed and a cigarette. Meagan didn’t really smoke – only when she was really upset like now. Thank the gods, Katie didn’t have a clue. Her locker across the hall from the office held her emergency stash.

  The one long drag relaxed some of the corded muscles along her shoulders. With the release of breath, she felt the oxygen return to her brain.

  ***

  Meagan’s hand shook ever so slightly as she lifted the cigarette to her lips. Those lush lips Dorran had the good fortune to taste the night before. He recalled the intoxicating taste of her – lemon and spice. She smelled of summer, he thought. An ache formed in his gut. No woman had ever roused him with one simple kiss. She had been so responsive to his exploration of her mouth. Christ, he had practically examined her tonsils with his tongue in that kiss. Yeah, she felt like a slow drink on a hot summer evening at that moment, a moment he wanted to linger over as long as possible.

  He could see the moment between them so clear. Her hands had laced behind his neck when he’d taken the kiss deeper. He could have sworn she craved his touch after the hesitance left her fingers. Then there was the soft-as-angel-wings sigh she had left on his skin when the contact finally broke between them. Small things like the heat of her hands against his pecks or the way she traced his face with her eyes like she wanted to copy his features to memory or something. Those soulful brown eyes lingered on his and gave him pause. Searching her eyes for his effect on her, some part of him sure as hell hoped so. Then reality came rushing back and the moment was quelled.

  “Hey, you got another one of those? I’m fresh out.” He patted his jacket pockets in a demonstration of his claim. If he was truthful, Dorran liked to think his lack of smokes was a viable attempt at quitting the habit. The habit he picked up while overseas. After all, a man needed a way of releasing stress over there. A guy couldn’t always yank his junk when he felt the urge. Getting caught meant you’d never live it down.

  Her hand appeared in his peripheral vision. “Here.”

  “Thanks,” he said. Watching Meagan through the smoke as he drew on the cig, Dorran wondered what he needed to do next. The damn ineptness was drowning him. “You all right?” The question was meant to defuse the agitation she displaye
d.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” Meagan’s statement oozed with sarcasm as her eyes simmered. Giving the crease between them a solid rub, she cursed low. “I should have known.”

  Dorran eased closer. “Hey,” he said gently. “It’s gonna be all right.”

  She huffed out a breath and sidestepped him. “No, it isn’t.” Accusation rang in her words. Taking another drag on the tobacco, she exhaled. Her arms wrapped snug around her chest in a move of defense only succeeded in pushing her breasts higher in her low-cut top. Smoke circled her dark hair like a wreath.

  Dorran wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless. “Look, we’ll foster Sally and get to the bottom of this. If the Sultan is the mastermind behind this little scheme, we’ll find out.”

  Meagan shook her head wearily. “It just keeps getting worse.” She flicked away ashes and began to pace in short, aggravated strides before stalling out. A mutinous set to her mouth formed as she took a long drag on the cigarette. “There’s never an end to the lives gobbled up by the Sultan. When is it going to end?” Her thumb rested on her bottom lip before she continued. “Hell for all I know, Sue probably works for him too.” Then flinging her hands wide, she whirled around to face him. “This whole shelter could be a stronghold for the Sultan’s hideous enterprise.” Stilling, she looked as though she pondered him. “For all I know, you could be on his payroll as well.” She took a step toward Dorran and then another before stopping.

  The glare she shot him sliced through his earlier ideas with a keen knife’s edge. This wasn’t the time to argue with her. Shifting gears, Dorran went for an interrogation tactic from his past. “Sure, I probably do work for him. That’s why I broke into your place the other night. It’s a good thing you have Pilot looking out for you or I’d have gotten what I came far.” His words, as incredulous as they sounded, did not stir the reaction he wanted from her.

  Instead, Meagan lowered her head in a show of defeat. One tear rolled down her cheek before falling unheeded to the concrete below her feet. Her cig followed, and she ground it out with a nasty squashing motion of her foot. Stalking past him, she growled the single word, “Bastard,” under her breath before disappearing out the door.

  Turning, Dorran considered whether he should follow. He could do more damage. Still, he couldn’t let her think his silence was in anyway connected to the idea he was involved with the Sultan. Muffled curses were ignored as he followed Meagan’s exit.

  “Just a minute, sweetcakes. You’re the one who accused me. Don’t forget. It’s a stupid idea, but I wanted to spare your feelings.” He stood, near the entrance now, feet spread and braced. Despite his effort at control, his chest worked with the frustration. Temper built with the notion of dealing with a female who wanted to pin him with something he had no part in.

  Now Meagan eyed him balefully. “Spare my feelings? Was that what you were trying to accomplish?” She threw her hands up again. “Of all the idiotic, contrived things to say. Men! You’re all alike! Just a sack of walking testosterone, aren’t you? Spare my feeling, my ass.”

  By the gods, but she was sexy when she was angry, and oh, she was extremely sexy now. Dorran took a step toward her and then another. Before he could stop himself, he pinned her against the outside of the building. The sun’s afternoon rays stung his exposed skin. He ignored the pain. Right now, the wildcat against him needed taming. Her anger was a thing of beauty, and his cock was as hard as steel. “Don’t make me use force. I will because I’m going to kiss you. You can kick and scream if you like. Doesn’t matter. Hate my guts – it doesn’t matter. You need kissing.”

  The growl came from deep down in her soul. The sound bubbled up and tensed her muscles to a ridged point. He’d brought her squirming to a halt with his weight. Her next move was to come down hard on his instep. Thank the gods for biker boots. Then her hands reached for his eyes.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Using his arm, Dorran blocked her move right before he clamped his mouth over hers. A war raged between them as he fought for submission. His stubble scratched her tender skin. Dorran blocked the concern. He forced her mouth open, holding her jaw with his hand. He would leave bruises. That was a concern for later.

  Meagan’s guttural fury played out under his attack. She bucked and kicked and pulled his hair. Her heated words flowed as he shifted to trail hot, wet teeth and tongue down her neck. “You’ll wish like hell you didn’t do this,” she spat through gritted teeth.

  The pain came as a surprise, so much of one, Dorran jumped back. She’d bit him! The thought registered a full ten seconds after her teeth sunk into his ear. Blood flowed freely. His brain went on autopilot. “What the fuck?”

  Freed, Meagan gasped, sucking air into her lungs before raring back and sucker punching him in the gut.

  Doubled over and heaving, Dorran didn’t look so badass at the moment. Meagan paced back and forth in front of him sucking in air until she could see through the crimson haze. The red had cleared from her eyes, though her skin still flushed in the afternoon sun. “Try that move again, ass wipe, and I’ll make sure you need an overhaul on your package. Got it?”

  His head came up briefly as he wiped the drool away from his sagging jaw. “I think you broke a rib,” he managed through the gulps of air.

  “Good, cause then you’ll remember where you got it every time you breathe.” She turned away. “I’d suggest leaving before Duke gets here. Wouldn’t want to have to explain why you were attacking his ward now, would you?” Meagan hadn’t called him yet, but Dorran didn’t know that. She watched as he straightened to leave. Still limping, she smiled satisfied she’d won. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake again, she vowed.

  ***

  “Here are the papers. Sign at the bottom.” Sue’s dull tone proved normal. “You can pick Sally up tomorrow when she gets back from the vet. Apparently the woman had been oblivious about what had happened under her nose or wasn’t paying attention to the monitors. Meagan found it somehow comforting. At least you knew what to expect from the likes of Sue – less than nothing. Dorran – he was a different matter. Ignoring the twinge of guilt, Meagan went about her end-of-day routine as she went through the runs examining and passing out treats until her ride arrived. Meagan told herself he deserved her fist to his gut. Who did he think he was dealing with? “You don’t go around accosting women like some monster, now do you?”

  In the silence, she settled the dilemma. She would talk to Katie about what happened -for a friend and see what she had to say, without telling her about the incident with Dorran and fueling her worries any more than they already were. ‘Mama bear’ would come unglued on Mr. O’Hare if she knew the truth.

  Chapter 13

  Dorran watched her leave. This time, he let her go. Tears, a woman’s tears were the only thing he had no weapon against. The urge to gather her close warred with an innate sense of helplessness – his own. How did a man comfort another when the concept was foreign to him? Meagan, the young and yet wise one who felt so deeply and saw so clearly. She would peg him for the coward he was in a split second if he approached her now.

  Turning, he headed for his bike and the open road. Here at least he felt secure in the knowledge he was free and in control of his own destiny. What if that destiny was nothing more than a few skill sets including a keen sense of smell and hearing, gifts from a bad encounter with a mutt werewolf?

  The air tore through his hair as he flew down the highway. Being half dead came with perks. A man could live dangerously and ride without a helmet. Being part werewolf meant he would regenerate quickly. Screw safety. Dorran closed his eyes and listened to the rumble of the motor under his legs. The rubber meeting the road called to him like a mother’s milk. He could clear his head on the open road, sort out the murkiness in his system on the highway. Her eyes kept creeping into his thoughts as the wind whipped by. Dorran drove for miles before pulling over. He did not answer to any woman. No, he didn’t.

  The dive off the interstate at the 103 exit b
oasted beer and billiards. The Hog’s Head saloon rested at the butt-end of a small but tidy strip mall. The establishment’s neighbors were a twenty-four-hour gym and a karate studio. Cool white lighting framed the windows of the bar giving the place the feel of an off the strip club in Vegas.

  Streaming in time to the beat of an old John Fogerty song blaring from speakers hanging from the corners of the building. The lights blinked in rhythm with the music. A sure-fire way to beckon patrons inside.

  He cracked his neck right and then left before dismounting his Harley. His body’s reaction to the confrontation with Meagan proved more in-depth than he expected. Giving his shoulder a good rotation, he shook out the tension and opened the door to the bar.

  A smoky haze greeted him, burning his eyes briefly. One of the few places left where a man or beast could enjoy a smoke without scrutiny, the Hog’s Head was a perfect example of a dying breed, Dorran decided.

  “What’ll it be?” The bartender asked as he cleaned off a spot on the bar top where Dorran settled.

  “Beer, no make it a whiskey,” he said as he tugged at the bandana he wore. Raking his fingers through his hair, he glanced around. Tonight was a hard-core kind of night, Dorran decided. Sitting at the bar and drinking until he found some answers or at the very least – got shit faced was the plan. Forgetting those soulful brown eyes was going to take more whiskey than usual. How could one slip of a girl haunt a man’s thoughts so well? Surely the reason lay in the fact he was supposed to guide her toward her destiny. What was destiny anyway and how did a person come by the necessary focus to discover what lay ahead? His destiny had taken an abrupt left turn when he had botched that bomb in Afghanistan. The werewolf had been his stupid attempt and death – a well-deserved suicide.