Scarlet Heat Read online

  I felt a stab of shame. What was wrong with me? How long had I been lying here, touching myself and indulging in fantasies I had no business imagining? What would I do if Victor came back home right this minute? After all it was dawn—weres everywhere would be shaking off the call of the moon and going back to their human forms. A were or shape shifter can’t take their animal form during daylight hours—at least, none that I had ever heard of. So no matter where he was, Victor was probably human. And if he came home early and found me lounging in his tub, touching myself…

  The thought was enough to send me up and out of the tub in record time. I pulled the plug, grabbed a towel (did the man own any linens that were not navy blue?) and dried myself off hurriedly.

  I went to grab my clothes off the floor, only to find they had been soaked by the rush of tepid water I had sent over the side of the tub. Great—now what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t hang around Victor’s house naked or wrapped in a towel.

  The howl sounded again, much closer than before. It made me jump and not just because of its proximity. There was something in the long, mournful sound—a note of pain I had heard often enough before in my old life working at the animal hospital. Pain. It’s in pain.

  Immediately the vet part of me, the part that had loved animals from the first time I had brought my mother a tiny baby squirrel that had fallen out of a nest to nurse and raise, woke up. I have to help it. I have to.

  Leaving my wet clothes in a sodden mass on the floor, I went back to the walk-in closet and grabbed a white t-shirt out of the laundry basket. I could smell Victor’s scent on it and when I pulled it on, the hem fell almost to my knees. The soft, worn cotton felt comforting against my bare skin.

  The howl sounded again—this time closer to the house. I ran to the kitchen and heard a thumping sound coming from the other side of the door.

  I peered out the half circle of glass located high in the kitchen door, standing on my tiptoes to do it. Just outside was the biggest wolf I had ever seen. It was whining and pushing its furry head against the door, causing it to rattle in its frame and making the thumping sound.

  I stood back, gnawing my lower lip in indecision. Was it Victor? Should I let it in? But how could it be him? Dawn was definitely here. I could see the grayish-pink light growing slowly more golden and I could feel the sun, like a weight in the sky above me. Soon that weight would press me into the ground, wearing me out, forcing me to give in to sleep whether I wanted to or not. I still had a little while before I was literally knocked unconscious by the unseen ball of fire in the sky, but I needed to make a decision soon.

  I looked out the high window at the top of the door again and saw that the wolf had backed up a little. It was looking up at the door with a mournful expression in its big golden eyes.

  But it wasn’t the wolf’s eyes that drew my attention—it was holding one front paw carefully up and out from its body. Hanging from the paw was a trap—a thick, dull silver thing with sharp, wicked looking teeth. The teeth had pierced the wolf’s forepaw and rivulets of blood had run down its leg and matted its grayish-black fur.

  That was it—my mind was made up. I couldn’t leave an animal to suffer like that—even a dangerous one that might hurt me.

  I had to let it in.

  Chapter Four—Wolf

  Hurts. It hurts. Ithurts ithurts ithurts. Thoughts are not clear when I am Wolf but that is always true. I am running, trying to get away from the pain in my leg but I can’t, o, I can’t. The wind coming through the trees tells me other wolves are there, other wolves are following. Do they know I am hurt? Are they closing in for the kill?

  Instinct sends me home, to the wooded house the man built. He/I—we share this body. Sometimes another shares it too but I don’t like to think of him. The almost Wolf. The in-between one. He frightens me until I want to bite someone, to gnaw my way out of the danger and run and run and run.

  I reach the edge of the woods and see the man-house standing there in the first light of dawn. I want to go toward it but something tells me not to—a message, distant but direct, coming from the man who is somewhere far in the back of my head.

  “Don’t go near the house. Leave the girl alone.”

  I howl in pain and confusion.

  What girl? Why should I care about her? The man-house means safety, refuge from the hunting pack that may or may not be chasing me. And maybe even a stop to the pain, the sharp, piercing agony that grips my left foreleg and won’t let go.

  I want to go to the house. I can feel the man in the back of my head, watching me, telling me no. The impulse he sends to stay away tries to stop me again but this time I ignore it. The house is safety. The house means no more pain.

  But when I get there, the wooden door is shut. Why is it shut? The man always leaves it open for me. He knows I walk the day sometimes, keeping the body we share longer than I truly should. He leaves the door open and some meat on the floor, in case I haven’t caught anything during my hunt. But not this time—this time it is shut.

  I push against the door, rattling it in the frame. The silver biter digging its teeth into my paw hurts more with every minute. Why can’t I come in? I want to come in!

  I lift my head and howl, giving voice to my frustration and pain. Let me in! Please let me in!

  Suddenly, a miracle—the door opens. I start to go to it…and stop. Standing there is a girl, but not just any girl—a dead one. A growl starts to build in my throat. Wolves don’t like dead ones. They are not right—not natural. My instincts say they shouldn’t exist. I do not like things that should not exist—they confuse and frighten me.

  The dead one is pale with big, sky-colored eyes—a pale girl. What is she doing in the man-house? Why is she in the place the man and I share?

  I growl at her again but the pale girl doesn’t seem frightened—or at least, I don’t catch the scent of fear from her. She crouches down and whispers to me, calling me by a name that sounds familiar. The man’s name? I cock my head to one side, trying to understand. Slowly, I limp-hop a step forward.

  “That’s it.” The pale girl’s voice is soft and coaxing. It sounds nice…soothing. She calls me from the doorway and I take another hobbling step forward. Her scent is stronger now and I take a deep whiff. Funny, she doesn’t smell much like a dead one. But she doesn’t smell human either. She smells…she smells almost like another Wolf. Which doesn’t make any sense. How can a dead one be a Wolf?

  “Come on, boy. Come on,” the pale girl coaxes. I am almost to the door now but when she reaches for me I am suddenly frightened. I don’t know her—how can I trust her?

  I jump back out into the yard and give a short, painful yip as the silver biter grinds its teeth in my paw. Hurts. O, it hurts and hurts and hurts. Please, make it stop. Make it stop hurting!

  The pale girl is still crouched in the doorway. She looks up at the sky and now I smell a fear scent on her. But she isn’t frightened of me—she is scared of something in the sky. The sun? The light? It is getting brighter and brighter—soon it will be day. I should leave and let the man take over but somehow I can’t. I am stuck, as I have been many times before.

  The pale girl looks stuck too. She wants me to come to her but I cannot—I fear her touch. I fear the pain in my paw. I fear I will be stuck forever and the man will never come forward again.

  The girl looks up at the sky once more and seems to make up her mind. Slowly, carefully, she steps outside, past the doorway. At once her fair skin begins to blister. I see the pain in her eyes and smell the hurt in her scent but she doesn’t shout or cry or run away. Instead, she walks slowly toward me, talking softly in that soothing voice.

  I am beginning to like that voice. Beginning to like it very much.

  “Come on, boy,” the pale girl whispers, holding out her hand to me. “Please come in. I can’t be out here much longer, the sun is almost up. Please, just come in and let me help you.”

  Her voice is kind and her scent is right. I make a decisio