Page 4 of Wounded Christmas Wolf
“Good news, he’s already fixed, chipped, and up to date on his shots,” Mags said cheerfully. “He’s five years old. We’ve had so much trouble adopting him out, because of his age and his unusual breed. Here’s a care package—do you need anything else, like a bed or pet food?”
“We already have another dog, so we’re pretty well set.” Holly looked down at Cupcake’s mop of hair. Part of what made him look so much like a cartoon character was he only had hair on the top of his head, leaving his muzzle and part of his face bare. She had never even imagined that a dog could end up with a ‘90s anime spike of hair, but here he was. “I guess I’ll stop on my way home and get small breed pet food.”
“I have one bag left if you want to add it on!”
“Sure,” Holly sighed, watching Mags add the pet food to the adoption fees. She hoped her already strained credit card would absorb it all. “Uh, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, go right ahead! If I don’t know the answer, I can look it up on my phone,” Mags chirped. “I have Google on my new phone, and I’ve had to look up so many things today. We had a young lady adopt an African grey parrot, can you believe it?”
Holly had a hilarious/horrible image of Mags looking up the name of the maintenance guy and chirpily announcing it to the room. She was starting to think this was a terrible idea, but Mags was one of the few people whowouldprobably be able to answer her question. Mags knew everyone. “The guy who was working on the ceiling earlier—dark hair?—”
“Oh, I thought you knew each other! Alice said she saw you kiss him.” Mags’s tone clearly was begging for more information.
“I tripped and fell on him,” Holly said stiffly. Under the mistletoe. His shifter eyes—wolf eyes—flamed in her memory. “What’s his name, do you know?”
“Jason. Or was it Josh? Maybe Joe. He comes to the free hot breakfast at the center, and he’s been fixing broken things around the place for free. What a nice man, and so handy.”
“Yes,” Holly got out, now thinking of Mr. Mistletoe’s big, capable hands. “Is he, er—local?”
“I’m afraid I have no idea. I can ask?—”
“No!” Holly exclaimed. She’d probably already sent the rumor mill into overdrive, but this would make it exponentially worse. “No, forget I said anything.”
But if she was understanding Mags correctly, if the maintenance guy was coming to free meals at the community center, then he must be on hard times, maybe even homeless. He hadn’t really looked like it—but what did she know about what homeless people were supposed to look like? She came to a sudden decision.
“Hey, if he comes back, could you give him something for me, please?” She set down Cupcake for a minute, wrapped the dog’s slender purple leash around her wrist, and turned over one of the shelter flyers to scribble on the back, writing down a few quick notes. “You know how my family used to rent out vacation cottages, back before everything happened with Mom? We don’t do it much anymore, but I know Dad wouldn’t turn him away. If he needs a place to go over the holidays, he can look us up.”
“Thank you, dear,” Mags said quietly, taking the flyer. “That’s very kind of you. If he comes back in while I’m still here, I’ll see that he gets this.”
Holly nodded and gathered up Cupcake’s things. She had to resist the urge to touch her hand to her mouth. Her lip still stung, and every time she brushed it with her tongue, a strange thrill ran through her.
It was a long shot. In all likelihood, Mr. Mistletoe was just passing through, and she would never see him again.
JACE
Jace madeit to the alley behind the community center before he half collapsed on the muddy ground, falling on hands and knees in a heap of half-melted snow from the recent snowfall a week ago. The smells were more intense than they should be, mud and spilled beer and old cigarettes. Inhumanly intense.
He was losing control of his wolf.
His hands curled, the fingertips itching as they turned into claws, the uncomfortable prickle of the hair on the backs growing thicker.
He had to fight it back down. He’d thought he had it under control, but then—she?—
It had been a pure spur of the moment impulse to help the beautiful woman who was obviously being harassed by that jerk. Jace couldn’t understand why no one had stepped in to help her, but he wasn’t about to stand by and watch that sleaze creep on her without doing anything about it.
Just the thought sent another spasm of wolfishness surging through him. He could feel the prickle of hair downhis spine, and gritted his teeth, fangs clicking against his human bottom teeth as he forced the change back.
His mouth tasted ...odd.
It should have tasted like stale coffee from the community center vending machines. Instead, there was a strange salty heat that seemed to send sparks racing through his body.
Half lost in his wolf mind, it took him a few moments to realize that he’dbittenher.
Way to go,Jace, he thought bitterly, as the coherent, verbal center of his brain started to come back online.
Way to show her the monster you really are.
After a few more moments’ struggle, he managed to fight his way fully human again. Or mostly human—he could still feel the points on his teeth when he ran his tongue over them, and the backs of his hands were hairier than usual. His back ached, and his joints felt slightly wrong as he straightened up. The palms of his hands were filthy, and he wiped them on his jeans, only to be reminded that he didn’t have a clean pair to change into. The rest of his clothes, one duffel’s worth, were back in the men’s shelter and locked up during the day.
