The door lacked a traditional doorknob, but the accessible lever designed for those with physical handicaps slowly tilted downward. Bay pressed his back to the wall beside the door, saw the shadow of hands reaching for the box of groceries, then the fur-covered fingers themselves, tipped with dark claws that dug into the cardboard and dragged it slowly across the threshold.
Once the box was fully inside, Bay whirled around, stepped across the threshold through the open door and shut it behind him. The small, twisted figure crouched over the box, amber eyes wide, stringy blond hair hanging loose and lank, too frightened to scream—a creature out of his worst nightmares.
The photo in the paper had been kind.
She didn’t even try to run. Instead, she collapsed and folded in upon herself, rolled into a small, cotton-shrouded, fur-covered ball, and whimpered like a lost pup.
He’d not thought beyond getting through the door. Had no idea what he would say or do once he finally found her, but the last thing Bay had expected was the heart-rending sound of such abject grief.
She was hardly bigger than a child and her tragic cries devastated him. He did the only thing he could. He leaned over and picked her up, cradled her unresponsive body in his arms and walked across the small living room to a big, overstuffed couch. Then he sat down with her in his lap, held her close against his chest and stroked her long, straggly blond hair.
She didn’t try to pull away, though he felt her trembling and sensed her fear. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help you. I promise.”
She wore some kind of gray, shapeless smock that covered her body with long sleeves and a full skirt. He felt an awkward lump in his lap and knew it must be a tail, or at least part of one. She’d apparently started to shift and been unable to complete the process, leaving her body an awkward, obviously painful combination of human and wolf.
There wasn’t anything remotely attractive about her. Thick wrists, rudimentary thumbs, long, sharp nails. Her face was buried against his chest, but she had more muzzle than mouth. Her ears were stuck midway between where a human’s would be and the upright position of a wolf’s, with tiny tufts of fur covering them.
He wondered how long she’d been caught like this, who had cared for her to allow her to survive, and most of all, if she was just too frightened to speak. He hated thinking he was causing her so much distress. He tried mindtalking but there was a wall as high and thick as any he’d encountered. She might not be fully Chanku, but the woman—or girl—managed to block.
For all he knew, she could be a child, but he hoped not. He’d been hard as a post from the first whiff of her scent, the purely feminine Chanku musk that had attracted him from the moment he’d entered the room. Richer even than Shannon’s fragrance, this ugly little she-wolf had his blood thrumming in his veins.
She drew a long shuddering sigh against his chest. He waited for her to say something. Anything. Instead, she snuggled closer against him and sighed. Bay felt the rigid tension in her body relax as she finally surrendered to the safety of his embrace.
Manda figured that as long as she kept her mouth shut and didn’t look the man in the eye, she wouldn’t have to deal with whatever had just happened. Besides, it felt so good here, held snugly in his strong arms. She felt protected. Safer than she’d felt in many years, even though he was obviously up to no good. Why else would he have come for her?
Harry had betrayed her. He’d promised her keepers he’d deliver her weekly grocery orders and protect her privacy, but this beautiful man had obviously bought him off.
She wondered what newspaper or television station he represented. There was a price on her head, one she’d tried to ignore for much too long. The fact the man had found her told Manda she’d not been careful enough, but maybe this was merely one more example of God’s punishment.
It would be nice to think otherwise. She’d never seen anyone as handsome as he was, even dressed in that strange, black leather suit. It made him look huge and powerful, but she liked the way the leather smelled. She even liked the way he smelled, but she didn’t know a lot about men and their scents.
She’d never been around a man who didn’t terrify her, except maybe Papa B, the man who rescued her so many years ago. Even so, she was almost sure she’d been punished enough for her sins, though she knew her father would never have agreed.
Whoever it was who held her, adjusted his position. She wondered if she was too heavy for him, if maybe his arm where she rested her upper body had grown weary. He stroked her hair with his right hand, an act so tender yet unbelievably erotic, she practically whimpered.
She’d never been held by a man. Not even her father when she was small. He’d patted her head occasionally but left the affection and hugs to her overbearing mother. That was before the curse, when she’d still been just a normal little tow-headed girl living with her missionary parents in a small village on the Tibetan Plateau.
Of course, Mother had only been a pain with Manda and the help. Terrified of her overzealous missionary husband, Mother had taken her frustrations out on either Manda or the young village girls who came in to clean and cook for them.
Manda missed the girls from the village. She’d played in their homes, eaten at their tables. Life in Tibet had been a wonderful adventure. Wonderful until God cursed her for her sins.
“Will you talk to me now? Are you going to be okay?”
His voice rumbled from deep in his chest and she felt it against her cheek. Manda sighed. She’d truly hoped he would just go away, though she knew that wasn’t about to happen.
“I’m okay. I can talk,” she said, though her voice, twisting out through her malformed vocal cords, often slipped into squeaks and grunts. “I don’t really want to, though.” As much as she loved the warm comfort of his arms, Manda sat up and pushed herself away from the man. As quickly as she could, she scrambled off his lap and turned away. It was easier not to look at him. To know he couldn’t see her face.
They’d let her wear a veil at the lab in California and when they’d flown her in private planes whenever she had to travel. Manda wanted to think it was more for her own comfort, but she knew the truth. It was so she wouldn’t frighten the technicians or anyone else who might see her.
“Please. Don’t turn away from me. I’m not here to hurt you. I don’t intend to write stories about you or tell anyone you’re here. I really am here to help.”
Now that was a new approach. She almost laughed, but choked the sound back at the last minute. She’d had all the help she needed over the years, thank you very much. Look what it had gotten her. Not a damned thing but pain and fear.
Manda heard him stand up and flinched. A warm hand touched her shoulder and fingers squeezed her lightly, as if caressing her. She trembled. Her entire body was shaking and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.
“Relax. I’m going to put your groceries away. I don’t want anything to spoil.”
She heard him walk away and her stomach growled. She’d run out of food early yesterday and was desperately hungry. Now the scent of the blood-red meat in the grocery order made her mouth water. She licked her muzzle to keep from salivating all over herself and slowly turned around.
He’d picked up the heavy box like it weighed nothing at all, and carried it into the kitchen. A package with two thick sirloin steaks sat on the top. He set that aside and began putting other perishables in the refrigerator—fresh hamburger and chicken, even some fish, though it wasn’t her favorite. Manda focused on the steaks sitting on the table, slowly warming to room temperature.
She licked her muzzle again and inhaled the rich smell of fresh blood. A whimper caught in her throat and she realized she’d moved closer to the table.