by Cara Adams
Tor was entranced by the match. The woman, Ramona, was an excellent player, very fast on her feet and almost always able to guess which way the ball would go. One of the other men on her team, a big guy with black hair, seemed to be watching out for her though, almost as if he was worried someone would hurt her. Ha. I bet she’s his submissive. Likely he didn’t really want her to play today but agreed because it was something she genuinely enjoys doing.
The purple team seemed to be playing a very hard game. Playing the person more than the ball, too, Tor thought. He cut a glance over to Cameron and noticed the man frowning. Yes, he saw it, too. It was a very energetic, tactical, well-matched game, but purple were pushing the boundaries a little, although the umpires didn’t seem to have noticed, likely because it was such a fast game. Both sides really were good. But Tor now was certain this was why the big guy was keeping such a close watch on Ramona. He was obviously afraid someone might hurt her.
This game was being played on one of the more distant courts. It, and the court next to it, backed onto parkland, which was wild, bushy, and didn’t seem to be very well maintained. The fence was just a few strands of wire, not very high, and sagging wire at that. Tor had taken his eyes off the game and was scanning the tall grass and straggly trees when Gaynor gasped. He quickly looked back at the match to see the big guy punch a man who had grabbed Ramona’s ponytail.
“That may not actually be illegal, but that was,” said Cameron rather cryptically.
“Huh?” asked Gaynor.
“You aren’t supposed to pull people’s hair in football either, but basically no one who does it is ever punished. However, punching someone is definitely a no-no.”
The court went wild. Three or four men in purple shirts jumped on the big guy and started punching him. The purple-shirted woman with the ball swiveled and just stood there holding it. A man in a red shirt snatched the ball from her and started up the court with it, while several other red-shirted people had joined the fight.
One of the umpires blew his whistle, but no one was paying him any mind.
The crowd started pushing and shoving, some of them running onto the court to join the fight.
Chapter Four
Tor was momentarily separated from Cameron and Gaynor. He wanted to be back beside Gaynor, but couldn’t help but stand and watch as a man and a woman from the crowd grabbed Ramona and ran to the fence, jumping over it like professional hurdlers even though they were holding her. For a moment he considered running after them, then looked for his family, Gaynor and Cameron. Tor saw Gaynor scream, wave her arm, and run after the people with Ramona.
His heart almost stopped, then panic surged through him. “Dammit, no!” he yelled. But so many other people were yelling and screaming no one could hear anything. He turned to sprint after Gaynor. Someone in the crowd pulled a knife. He saw the blade flash in the sunlight, felt the pain of it enter his side as if he wasn’t even wearing a shirt, then he was free from the crowd and racing after Gaynor, his mind focused solely on her, not on the burning pain in his side.
Gaynor’s pure white hair showed up well among the trees, and he could see flashes of red, which was Ramona’s shirt, but his fucking side really hurt. He pressed his hand to the wound and was shocked to feel how wet it was. Must be deeper than he’d thought, but that wasn’t a problem. He always healed quickly. Right now he had to get Gaynor back.
He understood why she was following the people who’d taken Ramona, but why couldn’t she have left it to the authorities? What authorities, you idiot? Where are they? It’s just Gaynor and you.
He could hear running feet behind him and hoped it wasn’t the purple team. Hoped it was the police, paramedics, whoever.
“To the left,” a voice called.
All right, it wasn’t the authorities, it was Cameron. Thank God he’d have some help, though. The pain in his side was becoming a real bitch.
Ahead Gaynor screamed, and Tor saw more people running toward her. Obviously not cops either, or she wouldn’t have screamed.
Tor couldn’t run any faster, and the blood was now dripping down his leg. Even his sock felt all wet and squishy. There was no other option he could take.
Goddammit! Why did this happen? I never wanted it to be like this. Fucking idiots. Why now? I had a plan, a logical, sensible plan, damn it all.
He raced behind a tree, shucked off his shirt and pants, kicked off his shoes and socks, and shifted.
Almost immediately the pain in his side diminished and he could breathe more freely. On four feet, he raced through the trees to where there seemed to be another fight happening. He wasn’t too sure how he’d get Gaynor away from this trouble and was feeling fairly certain she wouldn’t leave without Ramona anyway. God, this was a mess. As a wolf he’d be much better able to chase and track and catch them. Also, he was already healing. Even if it was a particularly deep cut—and he hadn’t exactly stopped to look at it—it would close itself up in an hour or two. Whereas in human form he really needed stitches and possibly even a pint or two of blood.
But the negative side of all this was that likely, Gaynor would freak out when a wolf approached her. Cameron would try to protect her. Not that she would need protecting from him. He was going to protect her. But Cameron and Gaynor wouldn’t know that.
Why oh why had this happened now? If he found the idiot with the knife he’d rip him to pieces for ruining all his careful plans. He wanted to scream and rage. He’d had everything on a time line. This, then that, then the other. He was not supposed to be knifed. Especially not at a fucking community basketball match. This was supposed to be a fun and relaxed day, not a fucking nightmare.
Gaynor and Cameron meshed with him so well, he was serious about a more permanent arrangement as a threesome. And part of forming such a relationship would include telling them about his wolf side before they bonded to each other forever. But no way had he been ready to do it yet. Well, it looked as though life had gotten in the way of his plans, and after this was all over and he had Gaynor back home safely, he’d have a bit of confessing to do. God, he hoped they didn’t run screaming from him right now when they saw him. He needed the time to explain everything to them properly. He wasn’t truly the least bit vicious. He wouldn’t really kill the man who’d knifed him, although he definitely felt like doing it since the man’s behavior had ruined Tor’s careful plans. Control was a huge part of his nature, no matter which form he was in. And that control would never let him hurt anyone seriously. After all, he was a nurse. A healer, not a destroyer.
His wolf nose had guided him to exactly the right place to find out what was going on, even as his brain remained stuck in a human rut, worrying about Gaynor and, to a lesser extent, Ramona and Cameron.
He had no way of understanding who was on which side of this fight—why couldn’t they have all worn colored shirts, dammit, or at least put black hats on the bad guys like in the old spaghetti Westerns!—so he had to assume Gaynor and Ramona were the only good guys.
Even as he watched, Ramona disappeared in the long grass and a huge wildcat leaped from where she had been, its claws raised against one of the attackers. Her, too?
Tor jumped on the back of the nearest attacker, dragging him to the ground and opening his jaws wide.
To his right he saw Cameron hit someone over the shoulders with a big tree branch, and the puma—or whatever it was—chase a group of people away. He allowed the man he’d jumped on to shake him off and run away then chased after a few others to hurry them out of the area.
Tor returned to Gaynor and lay at her feet. Gaynor gave a little scream, but Cameron just wrapped his arms around her and said softly, “Don’t worry, Gaynor. Tor will explain all this later. Won’t you, Tor?”
Tor grinned. That was Cameron’s courtroom voice. He wasn’t really angry, but he was likely upset and a tad confused. Hell, he was a tad confused himself. It appeared very much as though Tor wasn’t the only shape-shifter here. Ramona was, too. She was some kind of very large ca
t. Not a lion, though. A puma, maybe, or cougar, but not a jaguar, since she didn’t have spots.
He lay still, needing to stay in this form a little longer to heal more. He didn’t want to change back and end up in a hospital trying to explain a knife wound and stories of wolves and pumas. Besides, he needed to plan how to explain the fact he was a wolf shape-shifter to Gaynor and Cameron.
Cameron using his lawyer voice was most definitely a warning sign. It might just mean he was worrying about Gaynor and Ramona, but more likely it meant he was very upset that Tor hadn’t told him about this already.
As for Gaynor…Oh hell, he was in deep shit now. But he’d planned to tell them. He really had. Just not yet. Not for a long time yet.
A man in a red shirt came running through the trees, looking at Tor lying at Gaynor’s feet, Cameron holding a huge tree branch, and Ramona, the big cat, sitting off to the side.
“Are you okay?” he asked, glancing sideways at Ramona but trying to pretend he was talking to Gaynor and Cameron.
“Ramona’s fine,” Gaynor replied rather tartly. “However, Nicholas, it’d be absolutely awesome if you explained a few things to me.”
Ramona padded off into the tall grass and came back a few minutes later wearing her basketball uniform again. “Sorry, Gaynor,” she said.
“Yeah, you’re lucky I remembered the incident in the mall, instead of having a freaking heart attack when you turned into a lion.”
“What incident in the mall?” asked Cameron.
“Later. We need to get out of here. I have to go and bail half the team out of jail. Omar needs to see you’re all right, Ramona, before he actually kills one of these morons,” said Nicholas.
“Wait just a goddamn minute. Why were the purple people after Ramona? Who are they? Who are you?”
“They want me because I’m a shape-shifter. There’s a lot more male shifters than females around, and very few pure-blood women. Some of the bad guys are probably shifters, too, but fortunately not the couple who grabbed me. I’ll talk to you on Monday, Gaynor, and you can tell me then about your pet—dog.”
Tor winced at the way Ramona finished the sentence. It was pretty obvious she knew who he was, too. Now he had to find a way to tell the two people who mattered the most in the world to him without driving them away.
By the way, I’m a werewolf shape-shifter. Hadn’t I mentioned that before? Sorry. Oh shit. This was going to be a tricky conversation. Very tricky.
Tor stood up and padded after the others. When he got to where he’d left his clothes he whined and Gaynor stopped. She walked back to where he was and stared at him. “What’s your problem, Tor? First some people try to abduct Ramona. Then she turns into a freaking lion. And, if that’s not enough to send me totally insane, you decide to become a wolf. Four months, Tor. Four months we’ve been together. And never so much as a hint that you’re not human. Or not completely human. Or whatever. Any normal woman would be lying on the ground, drumming her heels, having screaming hysterics about now, and damned if I won’t do that, too, real soon.”
Tor whined. He knew this was hard for her. Hated that he’d not been able to tell her about himself in time. He walked around the tree to where his clothes were scattered. Gaynor bent down and saw all the blood.
“You’re hurt. Where are you hurt? Fuck, Tor, show me.”
Tor twisted his snout around as far to his side as it would go without sitting down and stretching too much, and she ran her hands gently down his coat. When he whimpered she parted the fur and looked at him. “You’re cut. It’s not bad, not deep, doesn’t need stitches. But shit. One of those purple people must have had a knife. A knife!”
“I bet he doesn’t want to change back until it’s healed. Changing might make it worse or something. Not that this excuses him for his lack of trusting us, warning us, telling us about himself,” said Cameron.
“You’re very likely right.” Gaynor rolled Tor’s shoes and socks and ripped shirt inside his pants, then turned and pointed her finger at him. “Being hurt is not an excuse. You deceived us, Tor. I trusted you in everything and you didn’t trust us at all. Right now I feel like everything I thought we had together was just a lie.”
“When we get home we need to talk.” Cameron was using his cold, legal voice again. That hurt as much as Gaynor’s anger. Ah fuck, how could he explain everything to them? He’d done it for them. Waited to tell them until everything was just right. How was he supposed to guess someone would knife him at a basketball tournament? He’d wanted everything to be perfect for them, and now it was all messed up.
In the parking lot were a contingent of police, some paramedics, and a large crowd of onlookers. Tor nudged Gaynor with his nose, so they quietly moved on to their car. Tor noted and appreciated that Cameron kept pushing Tor between them and away from people, almost hiding the wolf between himself and Gaynor. He was big for a dog but not obviously a wolf except to people who knew about various dog breeds. He was sort of tan in color, which was a fairly standard dog color, which helped him blend into human society, too.
* * * *
When they got home Gaynor grabbed a couple bottles of water out of the refrigerator. She put two on the kitchen counter for herself and Cameron and poured the third into a bowl for Tor, then placed it on the floor.
“We never did get our hot dogs for lunch, so how about pizza? I’m hungry,” said Cameron.
“Sure,” replied Gaynor, her tummy rumbling at the thought of food. “Oh, wait. Tor, can you eat pizza? I’m not going to have to buy dog food, am I?” She looked at Tor, and he snuffled into his water bowl. “I can see communicating isn’t going to be easy. Bark if pizza is okay for lunch.”
She was almost ready to swear the wolf smiled at her, but he gave a yip, so Cameron phoned for three pizzas. “I ordered you ham and sausage, Tor. I hope you can digest it all right in that form. I have to say, I’m waiting impatiently for your explanation. All these months and never a hint of ‘Oh, by the way, I’m a werewolf’ in your conversation.”
“Yes. First it seems Ramona’s a freaking lion, and now you’re a wolf. I’ve got to say, I never believed that Halloween mumbo-jumbo. But right now I’m getting close to being converted,” added Gaynor.
“I don’t reckon she’s a lion. Maybe a cougar though, or a puma,” said Cameron.
“Whatever.” Gaynor was hot, tired, hungry, and confused. She desperately wanted Tor to change back into himself and take control. She didn’t know whether to hug him and cry that he’d been hurt, or leave him in the yard outside and lock the door to prevent him from coming near her. But it seemed Cameron was right and he needed to stay as a wolf—a fucking wolf, for God’s sake!—until he was healed. And that was another thing. Who was running around a basketball match with a knife? The purple-shirted people who wanted to abduct Ramona? Or were there other bad guys as well?
“Tell me about how you guessed Ramona was a puma. Or cougar,” said Cameron. Tor gave a little yip as well, so Gaynor guessed he wanted to know that, too.
“Sure, remember a few days ago I drove a motorcycle through the mall for a movie scene?”
“Yes. I wish I’d had the chance to do that. It sounded like the best fun.”
“Oh, it was, it was. Truly awesome. Anyway, when I was almost at the end of the mall, Ramona came rushing out of a building, almost under the wheels of the bike. I had to twist and turn and damn near fell off the thing avoiding her yet staying on my set route. I couldn’t deviate from it, because these scenes are really tightly choreographed, you know. Then, as I hit the street at the end of the mall, there’s this huge lion, or cat, or whatever.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So when we were at lunch I asked Ramona why she’d been in the mall and she said she’d been sent to get the cat. I’m sure I’ve told you before she’s really good at getting on with animals, so of course up until this morning I believed her and never thought about it again. Now, I’d love to know the truth of why she was there and why she becam
e a cat, too.”
“I’m betting it was these people trying to abduct her then, too. She’s a mighty-fine-looking woman, and apparently, as a cat-shifter, she’s an extra-hot commodity.”
“You could be right, Cameron. It makes sense anyway.” They were both silent for a few minutes, then the doorbell rang.
“At last. I’m starved,” said Cameron, going to answer the door.
“Me, too. But I’m waiting to hear your story, Mr. Wolf. And it’d better be good. All this time I’ve trusted you, believed in us as a family, and now I don’t know what to think anymore,” she said, turning to Tor.
* * * *
Tor winced. He wanted to change right away and explain everything, but he was on shaky ground. For a start, he wasn’t fully healed yet, and if he changed now he may end up in the emergency room, which was absolutely not in his plans. Plus he needed to think. He wanted what was best for the three of them. That’s how he was built. A Dom always saw to the care of his subs.
He’d always planned their relationship to move very gradually from being friends and sexual partners, to living together, to them being a committed threesome, and then finally to them being mated and bonded forever as a family. Only when they were about to reach the final stage had he planned to tell them he was a werewolf shape-shifter. They needed to know all about him to take that final step.
But first, he’d wanted them to know deep inside themselves that they could trust him. That he would never hurt them no matter whether he was in wolf form or human form. He’d been sure that once Gaynor and Cameron were fully trusting and committed to the union then and only then could he lay bare his innermost secrets and know they’d understand and accept him for what he was—not fully human. That then and only then would they not be so shocked they would reject him and in doing that kill all hopes for the future happiness of all three of them.
Now it was out of his hands, and both Cameron and Gaynor were angry with him. Not only did he need to explain his reasoning to them, but he also had to gain back their trust, and that would be hard to do.
