They produced some offspring. End of story. Because he’d never felt an overwhelming magnetism toward any particular woman, it had been easy to scoff at what others claimed to experience.
But now… He stroked the soft skin of Sherrie’s hand, touched one pink-painted fingernail. Sex with a human went against his personal beliefs, yet he wanted this particular human woman with an inhuman longing. He’d take her again right now if she were awake. But she slept peacefully and deeply so he didn’t disturb her rest.
John couldn’t lie still. He never required much sleep, and right now the night called to him. He carefully shifted Sherrie and slid out from beneath her sprawled arm and leg.
Rising from the bed, he covered her beautiful, naked body which looked so vulnerable. But the woman wasn’t weak. She had an inner core of strength. Anyone who could quickly adjust her entire mind set to encompass the paranormal realm was strong and self-confident.
John stooped and kissed the curve of her shoulder rising above the top of the blanket he’d placed over her. She shifted and muttered. He resisted the urge to reach beneath the blanket and tease her to readiness again. The scent of her musk, of their combined essences, drew him like a magnet, but he forced himself to turn away.
He walked outside naked. His keen hearing caught the rustle of small animals in the undergrowth, a sound that would usually make him salivate. But he wasn’t interested in hunting tonight. He would patrol the perimeter of the cabin and make sure it was secure. A niggling sense of danger at hand pulsed through his veins, making the hair at his nape rise.
As his adrenaline level rose, John released his primal self, allowing it out of the cage where it dwelt when his id was in control. His body began to shift, a grinding of bones and reshaping of muscles that twisted him into his other shape. It was painful, but such a familiar necessity that he never thought about the pain—wouldn’t have now if Sherrie hadn’t mentioned it earlier. The process was simply a part of who he was, like his big feet or his tone-deaf singing voice. Soon it was over, leaving him panting and exhausted for only a few moments before his heightened senses kicked in.
The rustling in the grass was much louder. The piercing trill of tree frogs hurt his sensitive ears, and he whimpered. Lifting his muzzle, he breathed in. So many delicious smells to explore. Rabbit, squirrel and mouse trails zigzagged all over the forest floor, as clear to him as if they were laid out like blue laser lines.
But he would not follow any of them tonight. There was something else out there he needed to investigate, something hiding in the dark. The threatening presence was uphill from the cabin, how far, he had no idea, but it drew him.
John padded silently over the rough terrain, tongue lolling, hackles raised and nose constantly scenting the ground. He could smell nothing out of the ordinary, earth and animal, pine needles and leaf mold, but the sense of a foreign presence on the mountain grew stronger as he loped along. He paused at a stream trickling from a fissure in the earth and drank deeply, lifted his dripping muzzle and gazed into the darkness.
The world looked different through animal eyes. Shapes and shadows were sharper and clearer, and their patterns spoke to him in a different way. The thing that was drawing him up the mountain was not a normal part of nature. It was foreign, beyond his comprehension—and evil. He had no idea how he knew all this but the impressions broke over him with the clarity of a sunrise. The being would have to be killed, taken down like a rabid animal before it spread its infection further.
He sensed he was still far from his goal, whatever it was, and Sherrie lay alone and unprotected in the cabin. He must get back to her. Intuition never steered him wrong so he listened to the inner voice that told him to go back, abruptly turning and trotting downhill.
Light glowed through the windows of the cabin in the hollow. Thinking about Sherrie naked on the futon made him pant and run faster. His cock hardened as he imagined mounting her. She’d be sleepy at first, but would quickly wake and respond as he rammed into her. Their joining would be rough, hard and fast and when it was over, he’d do it again, slowly and gently with more of his human mind engaged. He’d give her complete pleasure.
If she were a shifter, he’d stay in wolf form while he fucked her, but it was too much to expect a human woman to welcome him like this. Before he reached the cabin, he changed from his animal shape and was walking upright by the time he reached the steps. He could smell Sherrie’s earthy musk before he pushed the door open—and something else. A stranger. Another male.
He threw open the door to see a naked man bending over the woman on the bed. Cougar, his senses identified, and John launched himself across the room at the cat-shifter. Grabbing hold of the taller man’s shoulder, he spun him around and plowed a fist into his face. His head snapped to the side, but he quickly recovered and punched John in the gut, knocking the breath from him.