Terry Spear: Heart of the Wolf

Devlyn motioned with his head toward zoo man Thompson. “He’s the one I talked to about removing Rosa from the zoo. He’s going to wonder what the hell I’m doing here.”

Argos watched Thompson disappear inside the hospital and then let out his breath. “Then you can stay in the vehicle.”

Devlyn jerked his door open. “Like hell I am.”

THE SMELL OF ANTISEPTICS WAFTED IN THE ROOM,AND THE air conditioner poured out of the vents, intent on putting patients into a deep freeze, Bella was certain. Feigning sleep, she lay quietly in the hospital bed, the highly starched sheets scratchy against her exposed backside where the gown opened up. The white woolen blankets, piled four or five high fresh out of a blanket warmer, buried her, raising her internal temperature. But the knowledge that she wasn’t safe yet chilled her all over again.

The room remained quiet, all except for the sound of hearts beating nearby. Once she was hooked up to the I.V., the medicine whooshing through her veins, heating her blood, the nurse left the room. But Thompson and the doctor stood silently watching her.

“Does she have any injuries, Doctor?” Thompson finally asked.

“Just hypothermia. As low as her temperature was, it’s a good thing your staff found her when they did. Another couple of degrees drop and she wouldn’t have survived. She hasn’t revived yet and it might be a while before she comes to, but as soon as she does, you can speak with her. But not too long. She needs to rest. However, most likely she’ll be incoherent at first— effects of prolonged hypothermia.”

“Thanks, Doctor. I’ll only speak to her for a moment.”

She didn’t believe him for an instant. The way Thompson had hunted her in the woods was reminiscent of a bull dog, determined, dependable to a fault, not someone easily thwarted.

Footfall sounded, moving across the room and out the door. The doctor?

His pungent cologne preceding him, Thompson moved closer to the bed. Why did human males wear such gaudy-smelling perfumes? Their own musky scent smelled so much more enticing.

Taking a deep breath, she was glad her kind’s unique DNA structure shifted with the change—perfectly normal wolf DNA when they wore the wolf coat, and human DNA when they turned back into their homo sapiens form. Thompson touched her hair, sending a curl of warmth through her. The toasty, thin blankets helped, but his touch caused a different kind of heat, the kind that stirred her longing to mate.

“Miss.” Thompson’s voice was deep, rugged, and concerned. He reminded her of a mountain man she’d once met, caring the same for nature’s habitat, the same aura of wildness surrounding him, except that the mountain man wanted to be left alone with no human contact. Thompson was different.

“Miss,” he said again.

She didn’t respond. This wasn’t the time or place to seduce him. Later she’d work her charms on him. He cared for Rosa. Wouldn’t he care for the human side of her, too? His fingers touched her cheek and she craved opening her eyes to see the expression in his gaze. Was it longing? Lustful? Did she intrigue him a little?

“Can you tell me what happened to you?” The sound of boots tromping toward the room

caught her attention. Two men entered. She concentrated on the smell of them, different colognes, just as heavy, just as nauseating.

“Officers,” Thompson said. Her heart rate shifted to higher gear.

“Mr. Thompson,” one of the policemen said. “Has she come to?”

“Not yet. The doctor said it might be awhile.” A chair slid over to the bed.

Great. She had a whole mess of observers, like at the zoo.

“What do you think happened?” one of the policemen asked.

“No telling, but I’m not leaving until I know. Thanks, by the way, for keeping the media out of it for the moment,” Thompson said.

“You’re welcome. We might have an attempted rape or even an attempted murder case here. Don’t need the media involved quite yet. On the other hand, she might be mentally ill.”

She fought making a face at them.

“I considered that.” Thompson grasped her wrist, the strength of his touch spiraling through her like a gigantic heated wave. “Pulse is ... well, a little rapid, but definitely better than nearly nonexistent. I thought she was too far gone there for a while.”

A cell phone jingled in close proximity to Thompson. She held her breath, fearful that his staff would inform him someone had stolen Rosa from the wolves’ pen.

“Thompson here,” he said.

Too much silence followed. The seconds lingered like minutes, yet Thompson didn’t speak a word. The suspense was killing her. When no one conversed further, she opened her eyes. Thompson stared at her with raw disbelief.

She swallowed hard, the moisture in her throat all but gone.

“Yeah,” he said into the phone. “The little lady just came to. I’ll ask her where Rosa is.”

The hardness in his face and the grim set of his mouth and jaw indicated losing Rosa had angered him. Good. Then if he wanted her back, he could promise his undying love to her and—

“Call you right back when I have some answers.” He snapped his phone shut and then furrowed his brow. “What were you doing in the wolves’ pen?”

Gone were the kid gloves.

What the hell was she supposed to say? Her mind was slightly muddled still and any fabrications she might have conjured up weren’t coming to her readily.

Wondering what the police officers’ take was on the situation and wanting to avoid Thompson’s steely-eyed glower, she glanced over at them. Both mid-thirties, one taller than the other with questioning green eyes, both dark brown-haired.

The green-eyed cop’s phone rang and he lifted it to his ear. “Sgt. Stevenson. What? Detain him. I’ll be right down.” He shoved his phone into the pouch attached to his belt. “Man at the front desk is asking about a woman brought in half frozen from hypothermia.”

“The media?” Thompson asked, steeling his back, his voice concerned.

“Yeah, suspect so. We don’t need a media circus here. I’ll head him off.” He turned to his partner. “You stay here. Call you in a minute.”

The other man nodded, and in five quick strides, Sgt. Stevenson disappeared from the room.

Thompson turned his attention back to Bella. More interrogation. Didn’t the doctor tell the zoo man to take it easy on her? At least that’s what she thought he’d said. She closed her eyes. How in the hell was she going to get herself out of this mess now?

Thompson cleared his throat. “Now listen, miss, if you’re some kind of animal rights activist and wanted to free the wolf ...” He paused and then continued. “Okay, let me tell you a little tale. Last year we had a similar scenario. The red wolf was someone’s pet, but the owner decided he couldn’t manage the animal when his wife had a new baby. So what did he do? Afraid the wolf might attack his child, he released the wolf into the wild. Sure, wolves are feral, but this one had been domesticated, too. She kept returning to Portland neighborhoods, looking for the home life she was used to, and finally killed someone’s toy poodle—not out of viciousness, but because she was starving. So the dog owner shot and killed her. If she’d been brought to the zoo, she would have been safe, protected, well fed, and content.”

And mated with Big Red.

Saddened that the dog owner had destroyed the red wolf and that his beloved pet had to die, Bella hid her feelings and still didn’t say anything.

“Several have asked to transfer Rosa to other zoos. It wouldn’t have been you and some of your cohorts, would it?” Thompson added.