“Sheriff, I don’t understand. There’s a wounded wolf in there and you should—”
“Enough. Good day, Marisol. Call when you need us.”
“But…”
Sheriff Davis looked at her, the way a father would a child. “Take care, Marisol.” Smithers following, he walked back out into the rain.
Through the window, Marisol watched the officers run, their boots stomping on the wet ground, splashing mud and water. Hurriedly, they got in the police car. Moments later, the car’s siren made two short wailing sounds then it pulled away.
Marisol stood rooted to the spot, her eyes focused on the police car until it disappeared around the bend. What in the world just happened? A sick joke? Why would she joke about calling to report about a wolf? She turned to look at the clinic’s door, leaning against the wall. Damn it. Just what I need. Another broken thing to fix. Well, that could wait. For now, she had a wolf to take care of. If Sheriff Davis and his fervid sidekick wouldn’t help this poor wolf then she’d do it alone. But first, she needed to arm herself. Where the heck did she put her bat? If this wolf woke up and decided to eat her for dessert, she’d whack him hard. She liked him, but not enough to let him eat her. Ending up like her father and mother wasn’t in her book—both had died with holes in their necks.
Marisol spotted her bat. She hurriedly picked it up, gripping the handle as if her life depended on it.
Sheriff Davis was the number one advocate for rounding up every wild animal spotted in the area. Now, here was an opportunity to take a wild huge wolf away and instead he just looked at Wolf and then accused her of pulling a joke? Was he out of his mind?
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Swallowing hard, she held her bat and pointed the tip toward the room. Heart thumping hard against her ribs, she walked toward the wide open door and peered inside. Marisol’s gaze fell on the floor where she’d left the wolf, but to her surprise he wasn’t there. She looked toward the bed and her jaw dropped.
Holy bananas! She couldn’t believe what she was looking at, but she hoped to God the officers hadn’t seen this. There, on the cot, was a man.
A very naked man.
Chapter Four
“Where in heaven’s name did you come from?” Good God! How did he get in here? She looked around the room. “And where the hell is the wolf?” Maybe the wolf woke up, heard the officers, got scared and took off. Okay, so the wolf left and in came Mister Delicious Body here? When and how? Was he here when she brought the wolf in? No, of course not. She’d be blind to miss someone this huge. She’d bet her pottery wheel the bed was empty when she dragged the wolf in.
Lordy, this is insane.
The man with a body only a great sculptor could create—whoever he was—made the single bed look tiny. His legs dangled at the foot of the bed, his toes touching the floor. He must be over six feet tall, with long and thick legs—made for running—and long arms sprinkled with silky golden hairs. With that broad and muscular chest, he looked powerful. Marisol’s gaze lowered. Oh God. She bit her lower lip and stared at the penis resting on a thatch of hair the color of earth. She thought men were smaller when relaxed. Hard to imagine how big he’d be when aroused. In all her life, she’d never seen a man with such a perfectly sculpted body. Man, she wanted to rub herself all over him. Well, she’d never seen a naked man this close. Period. God, this guy could be the crème de la crème of male models if he tried.
Well, whatever his profession, it’s not my concern. What matters is why he’s here, sleeping.
This cot was there for Dad’s afternoon naps. Now, this man was using it. Not that she minded. Who would?
Wanting to get a better look, she took a couple steps forward. His unruly hair was a mixture of moonstone and onyx. Strands of hair partially covered his face. What she could see showed almost perfect features. Whoever his parents were, they’d done a great job of creating him. Man, check out his tan. He must get exposed to the sun and wind a lot. An outdoorsman? She noticed a long, bright red scar that ran from his shoulder and stopped just about his nipple. It looked new and freshly healed. It made him look dangerous and sexy. If it weren’t for his generous mouth and the shadow of beard that gave him a manly aura, she’d say he was beautiful.
What about his eyes? What color were they? Gah, beautiful or not, blue-eyed, green or brown, how in holy caramel cookies did he managed to get in her dad’s clinic? She’d heard once about an actor who’d wandered inside someone’s house and slept in the bedroom. Was that what happened here? But she’d been here the whole time. Wait, she went to the kitchen to scrub her hands clean. But she was gone only a couple minutes. And where’d the wolf go? How could he walk out of here when earlier he was practically dead? Was the poultice that good?
Okay, let’s just say his awful wound healed within the span of a few minutes, which is hard to believe, still it doesn’t answer the question of how he escaped. Am I going batty? This doesn’t make any sense.
Did she just imagine helping a wolf earlier?
Wake up, Mari. Maybe you’re dreaming. No, she wasn’t. The blood-stained towel she used to pull the wolf with was still on the floor. Ha. She didn’t just imagine what happened. Later, she’d look outside for the wolf. First, this man should wake up. As much as she wanted to keep gawking at his great package, she couldn’t let him sleep here. It wasn’t right. This man was a total stranger. A total stranger that the sheriff and his deputy saw. Crap! Smithers said something big. For sure, he was talking about Mister Delicious’s manhood here. Marisol groaned. Smithers would most likely tell his wife about what he saw. Oh yeah, they’d be talking about her over their pot roast. And before the sun rose, everyone in Shelli’s phonebook would have heard about this man. She wouldn’t be surprised if Shelli and her entourage knocked on her door tonight.
“Ugh, I hate to think what the sheriff and his deputy are thinking about me right now.”
Using her bat, she poked the man gently on the thigh. Hitting him wouldn’t be good. It would be a shame to put a bruise on him. The man didn’t budge. He was asleep—definitely not dead because she could see the rise and fall of his chest. She inched closer for a better look and touched the man’s shoulder with her finger.
“Excuse me, Mister Yummy. You need to wake up.” Touching him was comparable to touching cement, except he was warm and smooth. “I have no idea how you ended up here, but you need to wake up now. My wolf is supposed to be here, not you. Well, that’s beside the point. You have to get up and get your pretty tush out of my house. I’m a single woman with a clean reputation, which you’ve ruined by sneaking in here.”
Poke. Poke. “I know you can hear me.” Jaysus, she’d need a tow truck to get him out of here. “You know I’m not going to stop nagging until you leave this room. You’re in my dad’s clinic, but he’s not here. If you’re drunk, you’re not welcome in this house because I hate drunks. They hiccup, they’re smelly, and they puke everywhere. I know because my friend did that one time. She made it to the toilet okay, but the idea of leaning over the toilet bowl made her gag. So she tried to go outside and she didn’t make it. She threw up all over the floor and all over my favorite Birkenstock.”
Marisol tried pinching his arm. The man’s arm was so packed with meat she couldn’t even pull any loose skin. “Hey, stranger. You’re beyond cute, okay. But you have to get up and leave. No? I hate to do this but if you don’t get up, I’ll get a bucket of rain water and—Eeekkk!”
One minute she stood on the side of the bed, a heartbeat later Marisol found herself pinned beneath the man. He was on top of her, his nose inches away from hers. Wave after wave of shock at how fast he moved held her immobile and speechless. Most of all, she couldn’t believe how beautiful his eyes were. They were the sharpest, bluest, and most attractive eyes she’d even seen in her life. Nice.
Heart beating against her chest, Marisol stared at him. Looking at him was like looking at someone she’d met in the past. The man angled his head from side to side
and kept staring at her, as though seeing her for the first time.
“Good God, Marisol. I don’t drink, but you could drive any man to liquor. Including me.” His hoarse, tired-sounding voice broke the stare-down.
“Why?”
“You talk too much.”
“I don’t…wait. You know me?”
“Yes, I know you. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Me? Wrong, buddy. I live here. You’re the one in the wrong place. Wrong house, wrong room, wrong…” Lord, is that…? She couldn’t believe it. Mister Yummy throbbed and grew while nestled in between her legs. Oh no, no. As much as she’d love to keep his hard-on pressed against her pubic mound, he must get off her. Did she just think loving his hard-on? Loving was the last emotion she should feel right now. Jiminy, her friend was right. She needed to unlock her invisible chastity belt. Otherwise, her sexual deprivation would result in something like this—enjoying the pleasure of having a stranger’s erection pressed against her.
“Please get off me.”
“Shit.” He promptly rolled off to Marisol’s side with a loud groan.
As soon as she was free, Marisol scooted off the bed. She flattened her palms on her shirt and noticed they were shaking. Her legs suddenly felt like noodles. Calm down, Marisol. Don’t be a scaredy cat. He’s a tall stranger, but he seems harmless. She noticed he winced when he’d moved. He ran his hands through his hair before rubbing them on his face. He looked exhausted and in pain. “You look tired, but I have to ask you to leave.”
“Give me a minute, will you?”
“You don’t need to explain how you ended up here. The how and when doesn’t matter to me. Just leave before I call the cops.”
“No. Please. No cops.” He looked about the room, a swath of wavy hair falling back on his forehead. “Do you mind if I use your bed sheet?”
Lordy, no. I like the view. “Not at all. Feel free to use my dad’s clothes. He won’t be needing them anymore. You’ll find his old shirts and pants in the closet. He’s a couple inches shorter than you though.”
“Thanks.” He grabbed the sheet and yanked it off the bed. With his eyes on her, he stood up in one fluid motion. He looked weak, but an aura of power and ferocity surrounded him.
Sweet sugar, who is this man?
The face of a snarling wolf tattooed on his left upper chest didn’t help ease her nervousness. But it was his nakedness, his thrust-up penis that made her mind a crazy mixture of fear and excitement. Egad! She must kick him out of here before she drooled all over and embarrassed herself.
She broke the eye contact to watch the tantalizing display disappear from view as he wrapped the sheet around his waist. Geez, there must be fat somewhere in this man’s body. If she were to guess, he was a big fan of running. He had the legs for it. And just look at his abs. Perfect for Jockey briefs commercials.
The man grinned.
Marisol felt her cheeks grew warm. Damn it. She really should do something about her bad habit of staring. “By the way, I’m at a disadvantage here. You already know my name and we’re not even introduced. So what’s yours?”
“Callum. My name is Callum Dyrdek.”
“Nice meeting you, Callum. Now, have you seen my wolf?”
Chapter Five
Despite his pain and his embarrassing condition, Callum smiled at her claim. My wolf. Now that was shit-hot. She’d been calling him buddy for a month now, and he’d liked it. To hear her claim him as her wolf…well, that was a direct hit on his...cock. Shit! It had been too long since he’d been with a woman; being near one was enough to make his dick throb. Marisol’s effect on him was instant—it was primal.
“When you came in, did you see a wolf lying here?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Interesting. Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“I left him here to call the sheriff so they could come and pick him up. When they arrived, they didn’t find my wolf. Instead they kept blabbing about something big and…well, they found you. You didn’t use that window to crawl in here, did you?”
He looked at the window; it was small enough to fit a child, but certainly not a grown man. He’d be willing to bet that even in his puppy stage, no way in hell that he’d fit through there. “No.”
“Of course not. You’re way too big to fit through there. How did you get in here then?”
“Would you like to talk now, or after I get dressed?”
“Oh, yeah. After would be great.” Marisol’s brows creased. “So you didn’t see a wolf crawl out of here? He’s wounded, you see, and near death. With the wound he was suffering from, it’s quite impossible for him to get off the floor.”
Callum was sure she wasn’t talking to him anymore, but to herself. “Marisol, I need to get dressed.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Rambling’s my forte. I bet I could win a rambling contest, if there was one. Probably the result of spending too much time in the drying room. Lack of fresh air. It’s bad for you. Okay. I should leave you alone so you can change. I could think better if I wasn’t staring at a naked man. I mean, half-naked. Not that I didn’t get to look...okay, I’ll just leave.”
“You can stay if you want.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I better not.” Marisol picked up the bat she’d dropped on the floor, before leaving the clinic in a hurry.
Callum plopped back down on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck! That was close.
The officers’ voices had barely registered in his mind when he realized what was happening. He had only split seconds to shift into his human form, when one of them kicked the door open. His decision to shift was the best way he could think of to avoid ending up as target practice. Damn, he was lucky. He had a feeling if they found him in his wolf form, they’d start shooting, whether he was standing or not.
Callum touched the long pinkish skin that was his wound. Thanks to Marisol and her father’s poultice, it had closed up. But the flesh beneath was still as raw as the meat Marisol always offered him. He could damn well feel it whenever he moved. Callum couldn’t believe it. He didn’t die after all. If Marisol had used the poultice a second too late, he’d be one of the fucking Cancers right now, drinking and eating Marisol’s flesh and blood.
Callum gripped his hair as reality started sinking in. Coming here was one fucking gutsy and stupid move. His promise to Mark had given him strength to run here. But what if he hadn’t made it and he’d turned? He could have killed Marisol. What in the hell was he thinking? Staring at the wall, he knew the answer to his own question. It was simple. He hadn’t wanted to die. At the brink of dying, he became weak and selfish. But damn it, he couldn’t imagine turning into a Cancer. He’d rather stay dead than turn into one.
Callum let out a long sigh. He should thank his stars that he hadn’t turned. Right when his vision had changed from normal to black, white, and blood red, he felt Marisol apply the poultice on his wound. And then a sudden explosion of pain worse than his injury enveloped his body. It felt like his innards were being slowly pulled out of him. At one point, he didn’t even recognize Marisol. Miraculously, somewhere deep inside him, he’d heard her voice and saw her beautiful face again. That must have been when the poultice did its job of healing him.
What happened to him must have been the first signs of becoming a Cancer. His eyes would turn gray, like marbles. No pupils, no irises. Now he knew what the ghosts’ eyes saw. Ugly red.
Shape-shifters knew, at least the smart ones, not to be close to Cancers unless they were armed and ready. Their saliva was contagious, like a Komodo dragon. Once bitten, a shape-shifter could turn, whether living in his first, second, or fifth life.
Cancer. What a fucking punishment. Callum tried rotating his shoulder. He couldn’t even lift his arm. Fuck, it hurts.
He’d seen Doctor Saint James use the poultice before. The patients always screamed when it touched their wounds, because it burned like a son of a bitch. Amazingly, no matter how deep or small the wound,
it always healed.
What kind of ingredients were in that poultice? Didn’t Marisol say she mixed the potion and added something weird to it? Whatever it was, it worked like magic. Callum tried rotating his shoulder again. He winced at the shooting pain, but forced himself to move it, carefully. If he didn’t, his muscles would stiffen. Not good.
It was great to be a shape-shifter with five lives. Unfortunately, the war gods had thought to add a condition—turning into a Cancer when they died for the fifth time. A fucking curse all shape-shifters had to deal with. Cancers were fucked-up wolves. They were soulless, walking on earth forever hungry for blood. Angry and with no purpose but to kill. They were evil in the dark, waiting for a chance to kill anything that breathed. And minutes ago, he’d become close to turning into one. Thanks to Marisol, he’d still walk the earth as a shifter with a soul.
If he scared Marisol, she was good at hiding her fear. She was one tough cookie, he’d give her that. He hoped she wouldn’t crumble when it was time to face Atos. The bastard had been planning her death since he discovered who her father was. Tough shit. Atos would have to go through him to get to Marisol. Even if it cost him his last life.
I gave you my promise, Mark. I won’t let Atos touch your daughter. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.
Sadness at the loss of a dear friend was a blow in the gut no one could block. Taking a deep breath, he looked around the clinic. The room looked the same as it did before. Anatomical and physiological charts of different animals posted on the walls. Open storage spaces with buckets, medical tools, books, and stacks of rags. He noticed a towel stained with blood on the floor. That was what Marisol had used to drag him in here. Someday, he’d find a way to thank her for saving his life.
He walked toward the small sink, turned on the faucet to cold and splashed water on his face. The water felt good, but that was nothing compared to the awesome feeling of having Marisol pinned beneath him. Damn, he couldn’t believe he’d tackled her in bed. Callum braced his arms on the sink and closed his eyes.
Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set Page 295