Page 31 of The Wolf Professor

The wolf in him was ready.

To fight to the death.

To save Charlie.

As he raced through deserted streets, the sharp scent of Charlie’s fear filled his nostrils, spurring him on to run faster. His giant paws skimmed the pavement, his tail lashing behind him as he bounded on, ears primed and twitching to catch every nuance of sound, his gaze scanning every building, every shadowy doorway and dark window.

And then Max rounded a corner, and suddenly there she was… andfuck,this was worse than he’d imagined. She was surrounded by a weregang of mixed species, being tossed from one to the other. As they laughed and played with her, he saw her dress getting torn, her hair pulled, before she broke free and ran. Almost immediately, another one pounced on her.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. It’s not often we get to share a cute little human.”

She turned on the creature, swung a blow with her fist and thwacked the disgusting feral’s leering face so hard his head kicked back. Max felt proud. That girl had guts—but hell, he knew that already.

But there was no time to spend admiring Charlie’s technique. The force of the punch had made her stumble backward and she landed on her butt. Already two other weremonkeys were advancing on her.

With a howl, Max bounded into the gang, scattering them every which way. He headed straight for Charlie.

As he ground to a halt in front of her, she cowered, terrified, her feet and hands scrambling in the dirt to escape him.

Hell’s demons, she didn’t recognize him.

Max tried to speak, but all that came out was a strange, gruff bark.

Shit. Now what?

On pure instinct, he sank to the ground, dipped his head and willed gentleness into his gaze. But still she stared at him, wild eyed.

Max let out a whine, then prostrated himself lower in front of her, nuzzling at her foot.

For a second her movements stilled. This time he whimpered, a melancholy high-pitched whine.

A light of recognition dawned behind the fear. She stared at him closer, her pupils wide. “Max?” she whispered.

He whined again, pawed at the ground, half rolled over. Instinctively, his wolf knew how to supplicate himself to her.

Charlie looked past him and her eyes were like saucers. “Behind you!” she squealed. He felt the tear of teeth on his back leg, then a ratcheting pain. Wildly, he shook off the feral that had fastened its teeth into his flank.

Then he ground out, “Climb on my back.”

It wasn’t human speech, he realized, it was a strange array of guttural noises, but clearly, she got the gist. He sank down and she clambered on and clung to his thick pelt.

He lifted his snout and bared his fangs, before taking one huge bound right over the heads of the advancing ferals.

And then, thank the gods, they were away.

Max dared not think. Dared not reflect on what had just happened. Instead, he focused on the blessed feel of Charlie clinging to his back, her legs splayed on either side of his flanks,her small hands fisted into his pelt as the full moon lit their path home.

CHAPTER 12

Charlie sat on Max’s bed and wondered what on earth to do next. Behind his bathroom door, she could hear tortured groans. She could only guess that he was transforming—painfully—back into his human form.

If only she could do something to help.

He had brought them into the house, padding around to the back door, nosing it open and carrying her through the darkened interior, up the stairs and along the corridor to his bedroom. There, he sank down next to the bed until she climbed off, then proceeded to nudge her with his snout until she was backed up against the bed, his topaz eyes never leaving her face.

But she hadn’t been afraid. Not even when his long furry snout gave her a final gentle bump on the belly, and she lost her balance and toppled onto the bed.

Then with a whine, he’d turned and padded into the bathroom.

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