Maya considered growling herself, and more, when Vinnie began talking. “How dare you bring that damn dog here!” she spat toward Ryan. “And how dare any of you say that it’s a good thing that wolves are back in this area? What happened last night is at least partly your fault, damn you.”
Maya didn’t really want to ask but said anyway, “What happened last night?”
“Those damned wolves. Did you hear them howling? My husband did, and he decided to go check them out, make sure the town was safe. And it wasn’t. He wasn’t.”
Maya had a sinking sensation that she knew what was coming, but she had to ask again, “What happened?”
“Morton was attacked. Mauled. Fortunately, he’s going to be okay, no thanks to you. But those horrible creatures don’t belong here. One way or another, they have to go.”
* * *
Ryan couldn’t help it. His first reaction, rather than sympathy—feigned or otherwise—was to glance at the Sharans. They were blocked from leaving by Vinnie but now faced her back as she looked furiously toward Maya.
He felt fairly certain that the Sharans were the wolves he’d confronted last night to protect Maya, shifters with no human cognition or control. He couldn’t recognize their scent for sure while he, and they, were in human form, but he did sense that they weren’t ordinary humans—and Rocky’s reaction to them also suggested a different aroma from a regular person’s. The dog hadn’t acted that way when they’d been around the Sharans before, but he might sense now that they had recently shifted. Did all cover dogs have that ability? Ryan wasn’t sure.
The Sharans’ reaction was what his should have been. Both maneuvered around Vinnie so she could see them. They began expressing how sorry they were to hear of Morton’s injuries. No admission that they’d had any part in them, of course. But they acted like concerned fellow townsfolk.
Even if they were the cause of the man’s injuries, they might not even know it, since they wouldn’t have had human awareness—but might they have recalled their attack anyway?
Ryan recalled a lot of what he’d done while shifted before he had joined Alpha Force and learned about the elixir—mostly visualizing, not consciously thinking about what he’d done, or analyzing it.
But would the Sharans? Assuming it had been them. There were probably some truly feral wolves in the area, too—and possibly more shifters.
“Thanks,” Vinnie muttered at their sympathetic words, but she still kept her focus on Maya.
Heck, Maya was the last one here who should get any blame for a wolf attack. Ryan moved around this group so Rocky was behind him. He whispered to Piers, as he passed, to take the dog to the table the hostess had found for them. “We’ll catch up.”
Then he joined Maya at her side. Her expression appeared stricken. Horrified. And remorseful.
“I’m so sorry,” she finally managed to say to Vinnie. “But—well, I did remind people that wolves are wild. I gather that poor Morton was outside, and—”
“Like I said, he went out when he heard those howls last night. He wanted to make sure that those damned wolves, wherever they were, were not about to hurt anyone. I don’t know exactly how it happened. Maybe he was protecting another person. Maybe he just happened to cross the wolves’ path at the wrong time. But fortunately he yelled and ran and somehow got away from them. I’d been worried about him so I called Carlo Silling and he picked me up in his car and tried to follow where the howls were, too. When we heard Morton yell we went after him and got him to the hospital.”
“Is he going to be all right?” Maya asked.
“Yeah, we think so. No thanks to you.”
At Maya’s cringe, Ryan stepped between Vinnie and her. “That’s enough. We’re all sorry that your husband was injured, but Maya’s right. She did warn people that wild wolves are...well, wild. She didn’t encourage anyone to face them.”
But with herself...? He looked down at her then, attempting to put a chiding expression on his face, but only for a moment.
For now.
“Yeah, they are,” Vinnie said. “They’re dangerous. They don’t belong here. And if they stay around here, near Fritts Corner, well, yeah, they’re supposedly protected under the law. But I know we can get around that if we figure out which ones attacked my husband. And if that kind of thing happens again you can be certain we’ll do everything possible to make sure none ever gets near this town again.”
She pivoted and nearly knocked over some people in line behind them who weren’t hiding the fact they were eavesdropping.
“That’s such a shame,” Kathie Sharan said. “No one likes to hear that, especially not those of us who care about wildlife.” She looked at Maya, and Ryan thought he saw tears in her eyes. In both women’s eyes, in fact.
“But she shouldn’t threaten any protected species,” Burt Sharan interjected, putting his arm around his wife.
“No, she shouldn’t,” Maya said, “though I can certainly understand her position.” Her head drooped—and Ryan found himself beside her, his arm around her the way Burt had done with Kathie.
He felt something amazing, something indescribable, when Maya turned and put her head on his shoulder. He faced her, held her even closer, wanting to comfort her—and more. His whole body was reacting to her closeness. And it didn’t hurt knowing that this woman was someone who gave a damn about wolves.
But Ryan’s shoulders stiffened at that thought. She cared about wolves, sure—but what would she think about people who turned into wolves, and back again?
Most regular humans, unless they’d had contact with shifters, didn’t believe in them. And once they had something like that, which they considered weird and paranormal and scary, happen within their consciousness, they backed away.
Might even become particularly fearful of those creatures, real or shifted.
Even so, for now, he didn’t loosen his grip.
But he couldn’t help wondering how Maya would react knowing that the wolves who’d nearly attacked her last night were likely shifters.
Or that he was a shifter, too.
How could she be so very aware of this man’s nearness? His arms around her.
His lower parts hard as he pressed against her.
Absurd to even think about it. He was simply being nice. Kind. Sympathetic.
She shouldn’t need sympathy. Morton Fritts did. She felt just terrible about what had happened to him, as if it was her fault.
But she hadn’t brought the wolves here. She was merely an advocate, excited that a wonderful protected and endangered species appeared to be making a resurgence here.
Enough of a resurgence that she, perhaps acting foolish in her delight,
