I Kissed a Dog

chapter 8

“Calm down, Missy.” Zane hovered over the female Zebra. His current caring demeanor belied his feral nature as a werewolf.

Standing just inside the door, I could sense Missy’s terror. She saw Zane as a hunter not a healer. I wondered if he was even a real veterinarian.

“Are you planning to help or just watch me struggle?’ Zane asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, I don’t know. She thinks you’re going to eat her for breakfast.”

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you? Do you have any idea what you’ve got us into?” He moved away from the squirming filly to face me.

“Me?” How in the world could he blame me for his brutal rampage? And why did I still find him so darn delectable? My so-called disgust had vanished, replaced by an unacceptable craving to feel his mouth on mine. I forced myself to think of the bloody men in the field. That did the trick. My loathing returned.

“Yes! You! When I said ‘stay in the bar,’ did that not mean stay in the bar?” He stepped closer, glaring down at me, his eyes wild with fury and something I couldn’t discern.

Backing up, I found myself pressed against the wall. Icy fear froze my mouth, keeping me from spouting off.

“What have you done to me, Chloe Carpenter?” Taking another step, he reduced the distance between us. I could smell his musky cologne and feel his body heat.

“You’re scaring me,” I peeped.

“It’s about time something scared you.”

Without warning, he reached around the back of my head with one vast hand, drawing my mouth to his.

His lips pressed against mine; I melted — my knees all rubbery. Sensing my dilemma, his other hand slid around my waist pulling me closer.

To my dismay, he was hard — everywhere.

A little moan escaped from the back of my throat as I parted my lips, allowing him to explore my mouth. Sighing with pleasure, my hands moved of their own accord, finding their way around his neck and into the thickness of his dark waves. His hair was as I’d imagined, soft yet dense.

A delicious wildness hummed between us, I was reeling from its intensity.

Missy’s distinct braying-bark tore through my mind, reminding me I was locking lips with a vicious, inhuman beast, all while the zebra looked on, fearing not only for her own safety, but also, from the images she was firing my way, for mine.

“The zebra needs you,” I whispered.

“From what I can tell, you need me more.” Zane smirked.

“O-o-o-o-o … you.” The words wouldn’t form.

So much for self-control.

Deciding to hammer my raging hormones into submission, I approached Missy with caution. I could see the pain and terror in her eyes. Apprehensive, she snorted as Zane moved closer.

“You’re scaring her. How can you be a vet when the animals see you as a predator?”

“I’m great with lions, tigers, and bears, oh my.”

For a moment I just stared — a werewolf joking about the Wizard of Oz. Could things get any stranger?

I should have known better than even to think the question.

“How about you being Little Red Riding Hood and I’ll be the big bad wolf,” he roared with laughter, sending Missy into a braying fit.

“Is everything all right?” Luke pushed through the swinging doors. Worry etched across his face.

“Our new vet seems to have an obsession with fairytales.” I stopped to glare in his direction. “And a desire to torment me and our poor zebra.”

“Zane, I have to tell you, I heard you laughing like …”

“A maniac,” I finished, pleased to have Luke on my side at last.

“I was going to say, like he was having a good time. It was Missy’s discomfort I was worried about, not yours, Chloe.” Luke looked between us.

Ignoring Luke’s mutiny, I faced the zebra. She’d waited long enough for our diagnosis.

I rested one hand on her side and stroked her neck with the other, making sure to gain direct eye contact. The graphic images she released were disgusting, fitting with the horror-movie-theme from my previous day.

A well-muscled man, hidden inside a hooded sweatshirt, tore across the zebra’s meadow, remaining crouched, low to the ground as he ran. It was nighttime, and I could feel the horror as the human-beast ambushed Missy, slamming her to the ground.

The zebra screamed. Snarling, the thing sank his teeth into Missy’s leg, sucking and pulling blood from the thrashing zebra.

Forcing myself to stay with the scene, I felt a stream of fiery bile flood my mouth as the man-beast raised his head, blood covering his face. He howled a deep guttural cry that caused me to fall back from the zebra, almost collapsing.

Zane did his normal hero-rescue-thing and captured me in his arms, keeping me from hitting the floor.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he whispered for my ears alone.

“Not a problem,” I stammered, wishing for more oomph behind my words.

“What was it?” Luke helped Zane get me to a stool. “What did you see?”

“Water?” I croaked, still dangerously close to losing my breakfast.

Zane vanished and returned with a fresh water bottle. I let the water soothe my throat.

“Let me check something.” I forced myself to stand and examine Missy’s right rear leg. Sure enough, I located a large bruised patch that resembled a human hickey. I motioned the men over.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Luke said.

I have. Zane thought, glancing at me. I’ll explain later.

“Okay …” I forgot to mind message.

“Okay, what?” Luke looked doubly confused.

“Okay, here’s the deal.” I determined right then I couldn’t tell my boss everything I’d seen. He wouldn’t understand. Shoot! I didn’t understand. I did understand one thing though: Zane didn’t want me sharing all the gruesome details with Luke.

“All I know for certain is some animal attacked Missy.” I paused, choosing my next words with care. “It was gnawing and sucking on her leg. She was so frightened I couldn’t get a clear picture. We should treat her for possible infection and pain.” I nodded at Zane who was already moving toward the large, glass, medicine cabinet.

“Maybe it’s time I hire more than a sit-down security person,” Luke pondered. “With our animals at risk … well, it seems prudent.”

We’d hired Henry, a retired San Francisco beat cop, to spend the nights in the front ticket booth. The booth was a small room with a cot that opened into a single bed. A TV and DVD player were added bonuses. Henry could access the gift shop area, restrooms, coffeemakers, and all the essentials, through a side entrance into the main building.

There were also a number of video cameras placed strategically throughout the park, but not enough to film everything at once.

If Henry suspected a major disturbance, he’d contact local police. Other than a few high school kids looking for trouble, nothing major had ever occurred, until now.

“What are you thinking, a nighttime patrol?” I tried to hide my alarm. With what I now knew about werewolves and their blood-drinking counterparts, the idea of some poor, underpaid soul traipsing around after dark didn’t sit well with me. Add an estranged serial killer to the mix, and you had a big fat recipe for disaster.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Zane mirrored my apprehension. “With our local serial killer and all — “

“I’m open to suggestions.” Luke shrugged. “We’ve got to do something. I’ll try to move a camera closer to the zebras, but what if other animals are being attacked?”

“If you don’t have anything major for us, Zane and I can interview the animals,” I suggested. Who better to talk with than the actual witnesses?

Pleased with my idea, Luke returned to his normal duties.

“Well?” I turned to Zane who was giving poor Missy a shot of antibiotic mixed with a pain medication.

“Working here,” he grunted.

“Meet me on the bench when you finish,” I commanded, before stomping away, maddened by his nonchalant attitude.

At last, I was sipping a sugar-filled cup of coffee. I almost never took my fifteen minute breaks, but today was an exception. Between Zane’s conflicting attitudes and the zebra’s nightmarish experience, my Tuesday was becoming as bizarre as my Monday; and it wasn’t even noon yet.

To make matters worse, Rhonda sauntered over. “I suppose you’ve heard.” She tilted her head and puckered her silicon-stuffed lips, feigning sadness. I could tell she was itching to spill the latest gossip or something worse.

“What now?” Fear clutched my heart like a vice as I envisioned another victim torn to shreds.

“You don’t have to bite my head off,” she snapped. “Some woman called for Zane. She said she was his fiancée. He doesn’t seem like the marrying type. I’d gotten the feeling he was interested in me.”

“You’re telling me this because?” I tried to hide my annoyance. Jazmine, of course, came to mind. She’d referred to Zane as her potential mate. I guessed that would suffice as fiancée in the werewolf world.

“Well, you’re with him a lot at work. I wondered if he’d mentioned me or this future wife.”

“Ladies.” Zane strode up, his Levis embracing every masculine bulge.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from the area just below his belt. I suspected Rhonda was leering too — as if that made it any less unacceptable. By the glint in his eyes, it was easy to see just how aware he was of our staring.

“Zane,” Rhonda purred. “When’s the wedding?”

I froze — my gawking indiscretion all but forgotten. Did this woman have no tact? I wondered how Zane would explain Jazmine.

“Where’d you hear that nonsense?” He asked with obvious irritation.

“Your lady friend called. She happened to mention you were her husband-to-be. For us single girls, it’s a major disappointment.”

“Don’t include me in your disappointed group of single girls,” I quipped.

Zane shot me an “if looks could kill” look. Love you, too, Babe.

Eck! This mind-messaging was becoming as cumbersome as text-messaging. Why couldn’t we just talk like two normal adults? Because we’re not normal adults, I chided myself. One werewolf plus one animal-reading-freak equaled a major mismatch.

“Chloe, we’d better get to work.” He raised his wrist, revealing a watch. “As for future wives, Rhonda; I promise nothing is signed in blood.”

Clasping her hands, Rhonda giggled, unable to hide her pleasure. With a near-perfect runway pivot she spun toward the courtyard, making her exit dramatic as usual.

She, of course, hadn’t picked up on the ominous way he’d said blood.

“I think we need to have our own talk prior to any animal conversations,” Zane said minus any hidden innuendos I could identify.

“Where to?” The stone bench didn’t seem private enough. Too many tourists.

“The wolves. Where else?”

“Where else,” I agreed.

***