The Shadows of Christmas Past

strong a tranquilizer as the men who'd shot him. She had questions about those men, and Harry's involvement with them. But there was another matter to deal with first.
    "You're a werewolf," she said.
    At first his expression was a mixture of wariness and anger, but gradually he began to look a little bit annoyed. Maybe it was just the headache. Eventually, he said, "Don't get all hysterical about it, or anything."
    Well, at least he didn't try to deny it. What did he expect from her? Did he think the appropriate response would be to scream, to panic? To call the tabloids?
    "I could exchange the darts for silver bullets, if it would make you feel more threatened," she suggested. "Besides, I had hysterics when I first figured it out. Should I have videotaped it for you?"
    "You sound bitter," he said, as though it concerned him. "I don't know what you have to be bitter about."
    "You lied to me."
    He rubbed his jaw, dark with stubble at the moment. He slowly got to his feet, still wrapped in the blanket. He kept his gaze on the rifle, and moved slowly toward a shelf stacked with twenty-pound bags of animal feed. "I'm going to get dressed now."
    "Your stuff's not there."
    He dropped the blanket as he turned around, looking annoyed.
    She just looked. She already knew he was gorgeous. After all, she'd seen him naked in a cage, and in her bedroom. She'd watched the slow, graceful transformation from wolf to human form while he was unconscious. Perhaps that should have disturbed her—but it had been beautiful; like a kind of art. And here he was naked again, and looking at her with angry sparks in his blue eyes. Sparks went through her, as well—she couldn't help it when she was around him. She wasn't going to try to deny how much physical attraction she felt for this—man? For the man-shaped part of him?
    "You found my clothes in here, too? How?"
    His angry question refocused her attention. "Taffy found the clothes out by the drive. Then I showed them to Bailey. He's a beagle/bloodhound mix. Once I told him what to look for, he had a ball."
    "Once you told him?"
    She found it odd that he sounded suspicious and skeptical. Then, again, why did she assume he knew everything about her? It seemed like she'd known him forever, but that wasn't true at all. And most of what she did know was false.
    "Are you going to let me stand here and freeze to death, woman?"

    "Are you going to turn into a wolf and attack me?"
    "Of course not!"
    His indignation slapped against her psychic senses, and she believed that he believed what he said. Which would have to do. His folded clothes were lying next to her on the trunk. She nipped back the quilt and tossed shirt, pants, socks, and shoes to him.
    She continued to watch him closely while he dressed, and when he pushed aside some of the bags and perched on the storage shelf.
    "Now what?" he asked.
    "Now you tell me what's really going on."
    He stared at her, his expression blank. But she could feel his thoughts teasing and tickling around hers, trying to get into her head and change what she believed and remembered. She didn't like his reasons, but she welcomed the connection. She'd never shared this kind of communication with a human before. Heck, if there wasn't a wolf part of him, maybe she wouldn't be able to doit.
    Stop that ! she finally told him, and conjured up a mental image of her smacking the big, black wolf on the nose.
    Harry blinked. Then he threw back his head and laughed. "You're not afraid of me, are you?
    Not one little bit. I'm a werewolf, you know," he added seriously.
    "And I'm Dr. Doolittle," she answered.

    She's not scared , Harry realized. And she's not freaked . She was, in fact, incredibly accepting of the fact that he was a very different type of being than she was. It didn't bother her that he could turn into a dangerous animal. She accepted him for who he was, and knowing that she did filled his heart, and his head, with—her.
    He could also tell that her knowledge and acceptance of his otherness did not stop her from being really pissed off at him.
    "You want explanations," he said.
    She settled the rifle back across her lap. "How can you tell?"
    As he was faster and stronger than a human, he could take the weapon away from her at any time. But he wasn't going to strip away a prop that made her feel safe. He didn't blame her for not trusting him just yet.
    Harry rubbed a sore spot over his ribs. "I really hate getting shot."
    "At least I only use tranquilizers.