by Tina Donahue
He stared at her like a man intent on passion…or a male animal during the rut. Three steps and he’d be back at her bed, climbing on it, unfolding his body over hers, trapping her beneath his weight and warmth.
A wanting moan bubbled up in her throat at the thought. Helplessly, she regarded him. His rich mouth she knew, there was no longer any doubt about that. They had kissed when he’d first brought her here. She recalled the pressure of his lips, his tongue seeking entrance, wanting to touch hers.
Had she responded as he deserved? Had she touched him enough to satisfy herself?
Gwen figured she hadn’t.
An artist might as well have sculpted his smooth pecs and torso, they were that masculine and perfect, his nipples the color of damp earth. Remembering the odd circles on his fingertips, Gwen studied his navel, a small half-moon, similar in shape to the bellybuttons of people on this side.
She didn’t linger there. Once more, his erect cock captured her full attention, the root of it surrounded by a nest of dark curls, his ruddy balls plump and lightly furred.
His powerful thighs tightened; so did his calves as he shifted his weight. Was he going to come to her now? Would he mount her in front of Staci? Gwen weakened even more, not minding that in the least, desiring everything he could give.
He turned to the bedroom doorway.
Gwen leaned up. The mattress shifted and squeaked with her weight. “What is it?”
“One of them,” he answered.
She didn’t ask “Who?” sensing he was referring to another man like the one who’d attacked her in the alley.
“What’s he talking about?” Staci cried.
Ignoring her cousin, Gwen asked, “Do you hear him?” The only sounds she caught were the rain and Staci’s frightened panting.
“Not yet…but his scent is growing stronger.” Kuma lifted his face and sniffed the dank air.
Not about to press him for details, Gwen murmured, “Don’t you worry. I have a gun. I’ll blow his fucking head off.”
Kuma regarded her weapon on the bed, its metal dull yet deadly in the lamp’s weak light. “No. He’s mine. The same as the other. They’ll pay for what they did.”
Before Gwen could ask what in the hell he was talking about, Staci gasped, “Oh my God.”
Gwen’s mouth sagged open, but no words or sounds escaped. The hair on Kuma’s legs, thighs, torso and arms grew at frigging warp speed, becoming longer, denser, resembling dark brown fur. His limbs shrank, so did his hands. His nails turned into claws. The physical agony it caused him was evident in his strangled growls, while his face…
Jesus.
His lips, now black, pulled away from his teeth, no longer human but that of a predator, his canines long and deadly.
He dropped to all fours as the transformation continued, elongating his nose into a snout, turning his body into that of a formidable wolf. In a corner of Gwen’s mind, she heard Staci’s frightened moans and hoped to God her cousin didn’t make any sudden moves. Gwen knew she should have reached for her revolver, just in case, but didn’t. The thought of shooting Kuma…harming or killing him…wasn’t something she figured she could do.
He sniffed the air as he’d done when in human form, then trotted into the hall, his tail swishing, the end of it curling around the jamb.
“Hey,” Staci shouted, grabbing Gwen’s arm before she could reach the doorway and follow. “Where are you going?”
“Stay here. Shut the door and lock it. Take this—use it if you have to.” She pushed her gun into Staci’s hand.
“What? Wait!”
Gwen couldn’t. Naked, she ran down the hall toward the front door, then stopped, not seeing Kuma there. Backing up several steps, Gwen peered into Staci’s room. The dangling beads on the girl’s vintage lamps created smudges of colors—red, yellow, green, blue—on the ceiling and walls. Her bed’s scarlet comforter was undisturbed, no indentations from Kuma’s paws to say he’d jumped on it to glance out the window.
Gwen checked the hall bath next, squinting at the bright fluorescent light. He wasn’t in the shower, trying to see out the small window at the top of it.
In the kitchen, she found him. He paced in front of the locked back door, his nails clicking against the gold-flecked linoleum.
“You don’t have to go out there,” she said.
He bared his teeth and growled.
She frowned. “You could get hurt. I have a fucking gun to protect us.”
He rammed the side of his body against the door, rattling the wood and glass.
Damn. Before he burst through the window or morphed back into a man and opened the stupid thing himself, Gwen got it for him.
He dashed into the small backyard, rimmed with vegetation, heavy with menacing shadows. Tree branches dipped to the ground under the pelting rain. Small pools of water and fallen leaves dotted the thick grass.
He halted in the middle of the yard and glanced back, his eyes silvery in the dingy light, intelligence burning in them along with something human…yearning, affection. As though he needed her to be safe, it was important to him.
Gwen leaned against the jamb, clutching it for support. Rarely had she been precious to anyone, especially those who should have protected her.
She’d never spoken to her father. He refused to acknowledge her existence, while her mother had too many problems of her own to deal with a child. If not for Staci, Gwen wouldn’t have known what family was supposed to be. Kuma’s concern reminded her of what she’d missed. It touched something deep within her, so long denied, urging Gwen to go to him, to cradle him close.
Before she could, he bounded away into the darkness.
That had been ten endless minutes ago. As she had earlier, Staci grabbed Gwen’s wrist now, keeping her from reaching for the doorknob.
“Oh God, please,” she said, “don’t go out there.”
“I have to.” Gwen yanked free. “What if he’s hurt? I can help him.”
“You’re a nurse, not a vet.”
A what? “Hey.” She glared at her cousin. “He’s still a man—a decent, brave, honorable man, got it?”
“I don’t get any of this,” Staci hollered, gesturing wildly. “We should call 911. They’ll know what to do.” She headed for the wall phone.
Gwen slapped Staci’s hand away from the receiver. “Uh-uh. No way are you calling the cops.”
“Why not?”
“Are you serious?” Gwen swung her hand in the direction of her bedroom. “You saw what Kuma turned into in there. How long do you think he’d last if someone outside saw what he did—what he’d become? They’d take him down like a fucking rabid dog.”
Staci pressed her fists to her chest, her pose reminiscent of a little girl scared shitless. “We can’t just let this continue. It’s nuts.”
And the guy in the alley hitting Gwen with a tranquilizer dart wasn’t? If not for Kuma, she’d have been raped, dead or worse by now. “He rescued me tonight, Staci. He didn’t have to do that. I’m not going to let anyone harm him.”
“Maybe someone already has.”
Gwen got in Staci’s face and bared her teeth at the girl. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. Where’s my gun?” She curled her upper lip at Staci’s empty hands. “Did you leave it in my bedroom?”
“Don’t worry. It’s on the nightstand.”
“Fucking lot of good it’ll do us there. Go get it.”
“So you can leave and get yourself killed?” Staci backed away and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. She tapped her foot against the floor. “I don’t think so.”
Gwen lifted her chin to the ceiling and sighed. “I’m not going to get killed.”
“You’re not going out there either. If you haven’t yet noticed, you’re naked.”
She’d forgotten about that. “Get my clothes.”
Staci pushed out her lower lip.
“Please,” Gwen added. “Someone has to let him back in when he returns. Do you want that to be
you?”
“And disappoint him?” She arched one blonde brow. “I saw how he kept staring at you.”
Heat rushed to Gwen’s face and throat. “You’re crazy.”
“Maybe, but I’m not blind. I do remember what a guy looks like when he’s interested.”
Gwen wasn’t about to debate the point. She would have changed the subject, but it was already too late. Staci’s fight had gone, her sigh seeming to deflate her. Her shoulders sagged as though she had no choice other than to accept that a man would never look at her with passion again.
A few short years before, Staci’s beauty had enticed many guys, mostly the wrong kind, like her last boyfriend. His actions had changed Staci forever, stealing her confidence, the future she thought she’d have. Reflexively, Staci reached for her shoulder but didn’t touch it, no doubt reluctant to feel the horrible scars her clothing hid.
“You all right?” Gwen asked.
Staci waved her hand as though to dismiss the question.
Gwen murmured, “I’m sorry this shit happened tonight.”
“Don’t be. You’re okay…and he is a great looking guy.” Staci’s expression grew thoughtful as though she was recalling Kuma as he’d stripped, his potent, magnificent form. “Really great looking,” she added, “considering.”
That he was a werewolf? Yeah, he was definitely hot in spite of that—maybe because of it. As rattled as she was, Gwen wasn’t certain what she should be thinking or feeling. She rubbed Staci’s arm. “Get my clothes and the gun, okay?”
“Promise you won’t leave.”
“Like this?” She gestured to her nudity, far less perfect than Staci’s had been before her injuries.
Staci gave her a wan smile, then paused just short of the hall. “One more thing.”
“Sure—what?”
“If he gets back before I return, please do not do it with him on the table.” She flicked her hand at the bright yellow-and-chrome furniture, a retro set Gwen had picked up at a yard sale. “I eat there, you know.”
Gwen rolled her eyes, but it didn’t stop her from imagining herself on the furniture, nude and vulnerable. A feast for Kuma’s eyes, mouth, hands. He’d order her to pull back her legs and she’d obey, wanting want he did. Her pussy would already be wet, aching for him, the coolish air glancing off her damp folds, bringing on a small shiver.
He’d warm her with his hands, dragging them from her inner thighs to her cunt, spreading her even more, exposing her to all he desired. With ease born of confidence and hard male lust, he’d enter her, his rod burrowed deep, making her feel taken, used, enjoyed. Before she could catch her breath, he’d slide his hands past her curls to her belly and onward to her breasts. Not stopping there, he’d wrap his fingers around her wrists, holding her arms to each side, trapping them as he plowed into her, his thrusts so savage the table’s legs would jump and scrape the floor.
She’d moan long and loud. He’d—what? Groan? Bellow? Howl?
The thought of him behaving like an animal should have troubled Gwen, but it didn’t. Despite her nudity, her skin stung with heat, her nipples were so hard they hurt, while her pussy pulsed, hungering for him to fill—
“Here you go.” Staci tossed Gwen a clean pair of jeans and a tee.
She tugged them on, biting back a moan as the crotch rubbed her unappeased pussy. “Where’s my gun?”
“Still on your nightstand. Bitch all you want,” Staci added hurriedly, “but I’m not bringing that thing in here. You want a mindless slave, get a pet. I’m not the good girl I used to be. Just ask the cops.”
Gwen zipped her fly and used the softest tone she could. “That SOB you lived with caused all the problems. How many times do I have to tell you, it wasn’t your fault.”
The girl shrugged. “So much for love, huh? And thinking you found Mr. Perfect.”
Aw, sweetie. “There are good guys out there, you’ll see.”
Staci pulled in her arms, an instinctive move of protection, to make herself as invisible as possible.
Gwen would have given her a hug if not for the tapping sounds she heard, different from the still-falling rain. Parting the curtains on the kitchen door, she saw Kuma—in human form—on her back porch. Moisture streamed down his hair, plastering it to his skull and neck. Ribbons of water coursed over the solid lines of his body. He’d turned his face to the side, his attention on something in the distance.
She opened the door, grabbed his arm and pulled him into her kitchen. It wasn’t easy, given his superior strength and size. However, surprise gave Gwen a faint advantage. Handing him a dishtowel, she asked, “You all right?”
He blotted his face and nodded.
Gwen didn’t want to ask but couldn’t help herself. “Was anyone out there?” Had he killed that person? Had he eaten—
Uh-uh. No way did she want to think about that.
“No,” he said. “The scent faded. He must have gone.”
There was a God. She bolted the door and peered through the curtains one last time to make certain her backyard was still empty. Not seeing anything that didn’t belong there, she spoke to Staci. “Grab a towel from the hall closet and get his jeans.”
Gwen went to the thermostat and set the heat to eighty-five degrees. She wanted to ease the chill Kuma must have felt from having stood on her porch in the buff. If not for Staci’s presence, Gwen might have used her body, hands and mouth to do the job. “It’ll be warm in here in a few…”
She didn’t finish, noticing Staci wasn’t moving except to chew on the edge of her thumb as she regarded Kuma’s balls and cock. His rod was more flaccid now than earlier, but still awesome.
“Hon,” Gwen prodded, “he needs a towel and his jeans.”
“Ah, sure.” Staci backed out of the kitchen, her attention still riveted to his groin. She bumped into the jamb before pivoting to go down the hall.
When her cousin was finally out of sight, Gwen went to him and spoke as quietly as she could, “What happened out there?”
“Nothing.” He tossed the wet dishtowel on the counter and faced her, all naked and sexy, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. On his realm, it probably was.
It took a great deal of effort for Gwen to concentrate on his face rather than the other delicious parts of him. His irises were gray again, no longer that odd silvery shade. His lips were a faint pink, not black, his nose well defined, not at all as it had been when he’d left a few minutes ago, and how she’d seen him earlier tonight in the alley. “You killed that man who attacked me.”
“I kept him from harming you,” he countered.
Right. How could she have forgotten that? She sure as hell hadn’t been able to erase the awful images of Kuma going at the thug. “You tore away his face. That happened to another man days ago. I saw his body in the ER. Did you…” She couldn’t continue.
“Another of my pack did that.”
There was more of his kind here? Gwen clutched her elbows to keep from shivering. “The man’s hands and feet were missing. Why? Are his fingerprints and toe prints like yours—nothing but single circles? Were you afraid a patrol unit would see them?”
He regarded her. “What’s a patrol unit?”
“Cops…police…the authorities…guards that keep people safe.”
“You have such a thing here?”
Clearly, he wasn’t that familiar with the way things worked on this side. Or, at least, how they should. “Some might argue that we don’t, but yeah. Answer me. Why were his hands and feet missing?”
“Without hands, he can’t hurt or kill any longer. If he has no feet, he can’t follow those he preys on.”
“Here you go,” Staci said for the second time tonight as she hurried back into the room. She held the towel and all of his clothes—jeans, tee, suede jacket—at arm’s length, as though afraid to get closer to Kuma even as she resumed ogling him.
In silence, he rubbed himself dry and pulled on his jeans, leaving the rest of
his garments in a heap on the linoleum. A Chippendale’s stripper couldn’t have captured Gwen’s attention more. She noted the dark hairs hugging his arms, his muscles flexing with each movement. In a few more seconds, she’d be on her knees before him, begging him to do her.
Maybe it was time to stop behaving like a sex-deprived virgin and get a handle on this. She pulled out a chair. “Sit down, please.”
The moment he did, Gwen sank into her own chair and leaned toward him, resting her hand on his arm. A shiver of delight ran through her at how solid and masculine it was. “I want to know everything,” she murmured. “Tell me about the rulers you mentioned, the guards, the experiments. Why you’re here. How long you intend to stay.”
She talked too much. Not that Kuma minded. He enjoyed the silky sound of her voice. Those melodious sounds, along with her touch, kept him from answering her, driving away every word he’d ever known, dispelling each thought.
All that remained was stark need, the urge to pull Gwen into his arms, capture her mouth, run his hands down her lush body. Lose himself in her heat and scent. She smelled of life, of freedom, the kind he’d known in the jungle when the guards weren’t hunting his kind and the rulers weren’t slaughtering them.
Gwen pressed her fingers into his forearm. “Please,” she whispered, “tell me.”
He slanted a look at Staci. She was biting her thumb and shifting from foot to foot, seemingly uncertain as to whether she wanted to stay and hear everything, or flee and spare herself the horror.
As though the girl had read his thoughts, she lowered her hand and frowned. “I’m not leaving.” With more resolve than she’d shown earlier, she sank into the chair on the other side of him, rather than the one that was the farthest away. No doubt, so she was close enough to stop him from mounting or harming Gwen.
“I’m from E4,” he began.
“Yeah, we know,” Gwen said, “you already told us that.” She ran her thumb over his wrist.
A surge of warmth rushed through Kuma, stiffening his cock even more, making it difficult for him to breathe, to think.
