Animal Behavior (10 page)

Alex punched in the web address for Luna Farms and pored
over the site. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in all ten
digits of the toll free number before realizing he had no idea what he would
say if and when he got Markov on the phone. He clicked on the “contact us” icon
then stared at the blinking cursor for twenty minutes without typing a single
word. No, this was not a conversation to be had via phone or email. Alex closed
the email window and lowered the laptop screen.

A thousand disjointed thoughts flitted through Alex’s mind
as he shoved a few days’ worth of clothes and toiletries into his carry on. His
black Lab lay on the floor following his master with his eyes. Alex zipped shut
the bag then yanked his keys from the hook by the apartment door.
C’mon,
Bob. Road trip.

* * * * *

For the past hundred miles, Alex had been rehearsing what
he’d say to the basketball-star-turned-werewolf. Bob shifted in the backseat
and Alex voice commanded the cell phone to connect with his office. When his
secretary Janice answered, he told her to cancel all his appointments for the
rest of the week and refer patients to Dr. Tristan in Bloomington. He hung up
without saying goodbye and glanced at the GPS. He’d been heading north for
nearly five hours and was within thirty minutes of his destination, and,
hopefully, some answers.

A green highway department sign for a scenic overlook popped
up on the roadside and Alex swung the SUV onto the horseshoe-shaped pull-off.
Bob hopped out behind him and quickly relieved himself in the bushes. Alex
filled the dog’s bowl with kibble and another with bottled water. The doctor
wolfed down a cold meatloaf sandwich then the two climbed back in the vehicle.

It’s pretty up here, huh, Bob?

Smells good too,
the dog answered.

Tall, skinny pine trees lined the two-lane highway as it
wound its way through the hilly North Country.

What’s that?
Bob asked.

A big buck stepped onto the road in front of them and Alex
stopped to let it cross.
Deer,
Alex answered. His mouth began to water
even though his belly was full from the sandwich. Alex’s muscles twitched as he
imagined chasing down the deer, sinking his teeth into the thick neck, lapping
up the spurts of blood, then tearing off hunks of hot flesh. He shook his head
to clear away the images and watched the huge animal trot into the trees.

Alex brought the SUV back up to speed and Bob wiggled
between the seats and sat in the passenger position. The dog’s thoughts were a
simple laundry list of things he saw—
bird, squirrel, tree, squirrel, rabbit,
squirrel
. And when Alex reached out to scratch the Lab behind his silky
black ear,
I love you, man.

Love you too, buddy
, Alex telepathed.

The GPS indicated a turn and Alex eased onto the county road
to Talbot. The next directive was for a dirt road and Alex was beginning to
wonder if he was on the right track when he drove over a rise and saw the
carved wood sign for Luna Farms. In the lower right corner was an inscribed
inverted triangle with a spiral filling the center. Alex turned onto the paved
drive and his stomach lurched. Bob wondered what was wrong.

“Almost there, pal,” Alex said.

The road led through the forest for a mile before opening
onto a neat farmstead. Alex pulled the SUV to a stop in front of a two-story
house and stepped out. Bob followed him onto the front porch. Alex noticed a
line of fur rise along the Lab’s spine and felt the hair on his own neck
respond in kind.
I don’t like it here, man.

Alex reached down and patted the dog’s head.
Easy, bud.
It’s going to be okay. I’m right here.
Alex pounded on the door then tried
the bell. There was no answer.

He sensed Sergei before he saw him. Alex wheeled around and
saw an impossibly tall man stride between two outbuildings. Sergei Markov wore overalls
that barely covered his calves and enormous lace-up leather boots. He was
smiling, but Alex detected the strain rolling off him.

“Hello, friend,” the Russian said with a heavy accent.

Alex felt his hips tilt forward.
If I had a tail it would
be between my legs,
he thought. His involuntary submission infuriated him.

Alex stepped off the porch and met the farmer on the
driveway. He extended his right hand, but found it impossible to hold Sergei’s
gaze. Sergei accepted the handshake and Alex understood that it was okay to
look up.

“You’ve come a long way, looking for answers I suppose,”
Sergei said.

Alex felt Bob’s heavy body quivering against the backs of
his legs. Sergei leaned to one side to see the frightened Lab.

It’s all right, dog. No harm will come to you here,
the big man soothed wordlessly with the same timbre and accent as his spoken
voice.

Bob’s tail thumped against Alex’s calves and he tentatively
slunk in front of Sergei and dropped his head. Sergei petted him and Alex could
feel the animal’s fear drain away.

Follow me,
Sergei instructed wordlessly.

The three walked up the porch and through the home to a huge
farmhouse kitchen. Sergei pulled a pair of short glasses from the glass-front
cupboard and set them on the table. They were etched with the sign of the
werewolf. He motioned for Alex to take a seat and for Bob to go lie down by the
back door. The giant reached into another cupboard and pulled out a cut crystal
decanter filled with amber-colored liquid. They sat quietly for several minutes,
sipping the whiskey. Alex strained to hear Sergei’s thoughts but only Bob’s
fretting came through.

“It’s rude to probe the head of a brother,” Sergei finally
said.

Alex felt his tailbone tingle at the chastisement. “I
apologize. I was able to hear you calm Bob outside, so I just thought—”

“You were able to hear me because I allowed it.”

Alex fought to sit still, but couldn’t calm his fidgeting.
Can
you hear my thoughts?

“Yes, I can hear your thoughts because you allow it. You
will eventually learn to shield them from our kind.”

Alex looked up from his glass. “Our kind? There are more of…us?”

“Many more. Most came to this way by a bite. Few choose it
as you have.”

“I didn’t exactly
choose
it. I just wanted to stop
being afraid of women and the next thing I knew…”

Sergei’s deep rich laughter filled the kitchen. “Ah, friend,
you wished to understand women? That is what fear is, isn’t it—just the
unknown? You will not understand them—ever, but you will become stronger than
your fear.”

The whiskey and the unique camaraderie worked their magic
and Alex’s tension began to unwind. He took a deep breath. “So how long will
this last? What am I supposed to do now? What will happen at the full moon? Am
I going to turn into some kind of a monster? Will I—”

Sergei held up an enormous hand. “Slow down, friend. I know
this is a lot to take in, but I will give you the answers you seek. You will be
my guest here while you learn then you will join the rest of us in Talbot. We
are a community. We are a pack.”

“The whole town is made up of…people like us?”

Sergei laughed again. “Not the whole town. There are twenty
three of us here—twenty four now with you. We live quietly because we have a
strong set of laws and a strong leader. The humans do not know we even exist.”

Alex felt his gaze pulled down to the tablecloth. “And you
are the leader—the alpha?”

“I am the alpha. But really I am merely the peacekeeper.
This is neither a dictatorship nor a police state—and you may look at me. I ask
compliance, not submission.”

Alex glanced up and huffed out a breath. “This is surreal.
How did so many of you end up here?”

“Much the same way you did. We just found each other. The
pull of the pack is strong. There are packs like ours all over the world.
Little communities pop up. Some are peaceful and some are not. You are lucky
that you were called to this pack. We are not savages. You will like it here.”

Alex shook his head. “Wait? What? I can’t… I mean, I’ve got
a life back in Minneapolis. My home and my friends are there. My business is
there. I can’t just pack up and—”

But you will—because you must.

The force of Sergei’s command caused Alex to wince.

“But why?”

“Because if you do not, many will suffer.”

Present

In the three years since his change, Alex had never shifted
in front of a human. He’d been careful to quench his constantly raging libido
according to the lunar calendar, and made sure to keep his other powers under
wraps. Never once had he been in danger of being found out, until Gwen Chaney
stumbled into his life and complicated everything.

From the moment he kissed her, he felt his self-control
unravel and knew nothing would ever be the same.

Still shaking from his encounter with her, Alex hurtled
wildly through the forest. The sun had set hours ago, but he could see every
detail of every tree as if it were broad daylight.

He was on Sergei’s front porch before he even realized where
he’d been headed. The giant held open the door and wordlessly invited Alex in
with a sweep of his long arm. The smell of alcohol wafted out into the night
air.

“Join me for a drink,” Sergei slurred.

Alex followed him through the house, flopped into the
kitchen chair and buried his face in his hands. He heard Sergei rummaging
through the cupboards and the clinking of crystal. The smell of the freshly
poured whiskey teased his nose and Alex found the drink without opening his
eyes. He downed it in a single gulp, opened his eyes and held out the glass for
a refill. The pack master was staring at him. “I needn’t ask what’s upset you,
friend. I can smell her sex on you.”

There was no mistaking the disapproval in Sergei’s voice.
Alex thought he also saw anger in the alpha’s eyes and felt his tailbone tingle
at the admonishment. “Nothing happened. I stopped myself.”

Sergei nodded. “Good.”

The alcohol had begun to soothe him and Alex sipped at the
third drink. “I started to shift,” he said, somehow ashamed at the admission. “I
wanted her so badly, but I stopped because I could feel it coming. It’s never
happened outside of the moon week. I didn’t even know it was possible.”

“Well now you know,” Sergei said, then stood and walked to
the sink. He leaned against the porcelain and stared out the window. Alex
stared at the alpha’s broad back. “What the hell happened to me back there?”

Sergei turned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nothing
but high emotions, my friend. Fear, anger, love, hate, lust—any of these, if
strong enough, can cause a shift outside of moon week. It seems the human has
confused you. You must have no more contact with her.”

The Russian sat down and poured himself another drink as if
the matter were now closed. Alex sensed that Sergei was probing his mind. He
tried to shield his thoughts, but a strange panic rose in him.

No more contact with her?
As terrifying as their last
encounter had been, he couldn’t wait to be near her again. Her pull was
inexplicably strong. Now that he’d had a taste of Gwen Chaney, there was no
going back. Cutting off contact with her was not an option.

Sergei looked up from his drink and glared at him. “You
would disobey your alpha?”

Alex fought the urge to drop his gaze. Instead he met Sergei’s
stare. “I’m sorry. I’m just so…drawn to her. What if I just steer clear until
she knows about us and is settled in as consort?” Sergei leaned forward,
clearly trying to assert his dominance over Alex. “No. This attraction you feel
to her made you lose control and that we cannot have. Did your reaction tonight
not teach you anything?”

“I’m not going to hurt her!”

“It is too dangerous. I forbid it.”

Alex stood so abruptly that the chair clattered to the floor
behind him. “She’s meant to be mine. I can feel it. I want her!”

The words had barely left his lips when Alex found himself
pinned against the kitchen wall, Sergei’s corded forearm pressed against his
throat. The alpha’s eyes flashed and Alex trembled as the giant shifted in an
instant, the seams of his clothing ripping from the force. The fur pricked
under Alex’s skin and his own transformation overtook him.

Sergei took a step backward and the two squared off,
circling each other with growls and snaps.
You will do as you’re told, Alex.
The pack needs a human consort and I will not have you frighten her away—or
worse—because of your selfishness!

Despite the alpha’s rage, Alex felt his own confidence swell.
The base of his spine no longer tingled under Sergei’s glare. In a flash of
understanding, Alex was able to construct an impenetrable wall around his
thoughts.

The confusion on Sergei’s face was unmistakable. Alex felt
the change as the Russian quickly raised his mind shield, but his physical cues
gave him away.
Deceit.

Though Alex could only guess at what the alpha was hiding,
it was clear that the situation had to be diffused before it got out of
control. Alex’s body shuddered as he shifted back to his human form, then
Sergei followed suit.

This time, when Alex looked at the floor, it was a conscious
effort to calm the alpha, not an involuntary response of submission. Neither
spoke as their breathing slowed. Alex raised his eyes and noticed Sergei fidgeting
with the shredded remains of his shirt.

Sergei righted the kitchen chairs and sat down. “Have a
seat, friend,” he muttered. Alex settled in across the table and studied
Sergei. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed to be focused on the tabletop.
He looked exhausted. “I apologize, Sergei. No disrespect intended.”

With a wave of his hand, Sergei looked up. “Ach, we must put
that behind us now. It seems this situation has confused us all. Put it out of
your mind, friend. She is not meant for you.”

Sergei refilled their glasses, downed his in one gulp and
poured himself another. “Before John Chaney, the only other human consort I
knew was the one who guided me back in Russia. Both of these men had the
mystical about them, but nothing like this new one. She is different, yes?”

Alex nodded. “And off limits?”

“I believe it is best for you to keep your distance,” Sergei
said. “If she were not so important to the pack, I might allow the match, but
these things rarely end well. Werewolves and humans—even special humans—are not
meant for lasting relationships.” Sergei’s head bobbed and Alex thought the
whiskey must be catching up with him.

With a wry chuckle, Alex shook his head. “So I met her a few
years too late. Story of my life.” Alex was well aware that his words made it
seem that he had given up. Until he figured out his next move he would have to
tread carefully.

Sergei shrugged, then leaned heavily on his elbow and seemed
to struggle to keep his eyes open. “Ach, some make it work for a little while,
but the differences are just too great. Some take more desperate measures,” he
slurred.

Sensing that the alcohol had weakened Sergei’s defenses,
Alex concentrated on cloaking his thoughts and keeping his body language
neutral. “Okay, this sounds interesting. Go on.”

“One must become like the other. There is a legend—it is
really just a line from an old Russian poem—that says that werewolves like you,
the ones who choose it, can break the spell by drinking rainwater from the
footprint of a true wolf under the full moon. No one really believes that it
works.”

Alex shook his head. The storybooks and the internet were
full of ridiculous fiction about how to become a werewolf, or how to kill one.
He suspected this cure was just more of the same fantasy.

“And the other way?”

“If she were to become one of us. And that I will not allow.”

This new information raised new questions—and
possibilities—and Alex needed some time to think things through. “You know, I
think I’ll head out of town for a few days, maybe spend moon week with that
pack just north of the Twin Cities.”

Sergei nodded and took a swig directly from the decanter.
“Good idea, friend.” He swayed in his chair then laid his head on the table and
was snoring within minutes.

* * * * *

A Week Later

In the week since the cougar attack, the swelling in Gwen’s
ankle had gone down and the only reminder of the sprain was an occasional ache
and a fading bruise. She’d used the injury as an excuse to mope around the
cabin rehashing her strange night with Alex.

Her body tingled every time she remembered the kiss they had
shared and the feel of his warm fingers probing between her legs. Alex’s
obvious excitement had fueled her own lust and she’d wanted him to take
her—hard.

Every nuance of the encounter was seared in her memory—his
ragged breath, her thundering heartbeat, the feral quality of his touch, the
rock-hard length of his shaft and the way he’d teased her opening with his cock
head.

If only she could forget the way it had ended. Not only had
he bolted out of the cabin in the middle of the most pussy-wetting make-out
session she’d ever experienced, he’d avoided her ever since.

The morning after, he’d had his veterinary technician drop
Jezebel off and give Gwen instructions on how to clean the dog’s wound and
administer the antibiotics. Kelly had extended apologies—supposedly on her
boss’s behalf—but Gwen had had the distinct impression that the pretty brunette
was just trying to spare her feelings.

“Call me if she shows any signs of infection,” Kelly had
said. “Otherwise, I’ll drop by in a week and take out the stitches. It should
take only a couple of minutes.”

On her return house call, Kelly had snipped away the little
black threads and given Jezebel a clean bill of health. “And how are
you
doing?” she’d asked.

Gwen had wanted to say that she was confused, angry and
embarrassed. Instead she had just smiled and said she’d be doing the cha-cha in
no time.

Within minutes of Kelly’s departure, Gwen was lounging on
the couch, flipping through a magazine. A nudge at her elbow interrupted her
brooding. Gwen reached down and stroked the stubbly regrowth of fur around
Jezebel’s scars.

“What are you saying, Jez—enough of the private pity party?”

Gwen tossed the magazine on the coffee table and stood. “How
about we go poke around town and see how this joint has changed since the last
time I was here? Wanna go for a ride?”

The dog’s entire body twisted when she wagged her tail. Gwen
grabbed her keys, some cash and her debit card and led the way to the car.
Stepping from the shadows of the porch, she blinked against the bright morning
sun and realized that she’d barely left the cabin in a week. She tilted back
her head and let the rays warm her face. Her mood instantly lifted.

Once inside the Jeep, Gwen cranked the radio and rolled down
the passenger side window so Jezebel hang her head out in the cool fall breeze.
As they neared the tiny business district, Gwen spotted a Garage Sale flier
flapping on a telephone pole. “Are you up for a little treasure hunting, Jez?”

Gwen followed a series of hot-pink signs through an older
neighborhood on the edge of downtown and stopped in front of a neat ranch-style
house set back on a deep, manicured lot. It seemed the entire town of Talbot
had turned out for the sale. Dozens of people milled about the lawn and huddled
around long tables full of secondhand goodies.

The shoppers had gathered in small groups, laughing and
chatting, and the atmosphere seemed more like a social get-together than a
garage sale. She noted that several of them had beers in their hands despite
the early hour. Their easy camaraderie was contagious and Gwen thought she
could get used to small-town living.

From her spot on the street, Gwen spied several promising
items. An old chest of drawers, a pair of end tables and a grouping of
mismatched chairs caught her eye. If the price was right, she’d haul them home
and give each a facelift with some decorative paint. Even if she didn’t
resuscitate her shabby-chic furniture business, working on the pieces would be
a welcome distraction.

“Let’s go check it out, huh Jez?”

Jezebel lumbered out of the Jeep then trotted up the long
driveway ahead of Gwen and made her rounds among the shoppers. She was greeted
with smiles and ear scratches.

By the time Gwen caught up to her dog, the golden retriever
was wriggling under the attention of a slight, middle-aged man who had crouched
to pet her.

“Aw, what happened here, pooch?” he asked, examining her
scars.

“Cougar attack, believe it or not!” Gwen said, laughing as
she approached.

The man jerked his head up and stared open-mouthed at Gwen.
“Cougar attack!” he exclaimed. “Are you John Chaney’s granddaughter?”

The chatter from the front lawn stopped and Gwen felt as if
everyone were staring at her. She glanced around the group and saw that she was
correct. Her face heated and she knew she must be blushing at the sudden
attention.

“Yes, I’m Gwen.”

The man stood and glommed on to her hand and pumped it
madly. “I am
so
pleased to meet you! Your grandfather was a great man—a
great
man! I’m new here too. My name’s Henry Waggner—Henry’s Barber Shop on Main.
John Chaney helped me start my business. He—”

Henry Waggner’s sentence was cut off when an enormous man in
a black leather biker vest—with no shirt underneath—rushed up beside him and
looped a beefy arm around the barber’s narrow shoulders. The big man squeezed
so hard that Henry nearly lost his balance.

“How’s it going there, Henry?” he muttered through clenched
teeth, then turned to Gwen and softened his smile. “Tiny Wainwright,” he said
with a nod. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Miss Chaney. We were all very fond
of your grandfather.”

Tiny spoke with a slow, southern drawl and Gwen noted that
the biker had a single tattoo on his huge biceps—a simple triangle with a swirl
in the center. She looked up into his eyes and saw genuine kindness there.

“Thank you,” Gwen said.

The shift in mood was palpable. The crowd quieted and, as if
an announcement had been made, everyone queued up behind Tiny and Gwen found
herself the focus of a receiving line. For the next twenty minutes, she
accepted handshakes, hugs and sincere expressions of sympathy at the loss of
her grandfather.