The Shadows of Christmas Past

medicines, cleaning fluids, and disinfectants. It smelled like a vet's office. He'd been in wolf form, and the dog had gotten the woman to bring him somewhere safe. Now he'd morphed back to human. When he took his attention off the headache, he became aware of the deep ache in his limbs, spine, and ribs. It was much easier on the body when the change was under conscious control.
    He opened his eyes and saw that he was surrounded by a metal cage.
    "Oh, good God," Harry muttered.
    It was a good thing the wolf had been asleep when he was captured. Even now, anger roared through him at the bars between himself and freedom. But he was in man form, and a man thought—even with a headache from hell.
    And what did the man think? That he was on a case, and didn't want complications and questions that might interfere with his work. Or, worse, threaten his carefully guarded secret.
    He reached out and touched the cold metal, fighting the urge to mindlessly shake and tear at the bars. While his animal part swore vengeance on whoever had done this to him, he looked around, found the cage door, and the simple latch that kept it closed.
    Harry laughed.
    Though his inner wolf was having a hissy fit, he was only being held in a kennel box, though thankfully a big one. He supposed he was lucky he wasn't wearing a flea collar.

    He flexed his fingers. "The man thinks that he has thumbs, and getting out of here isn't going to be a problem."
    Except that he heard footsteps approaching.
    He was still too groggy to make the change back to wolf quickly. He fell facedown onto the cage floor, pretending to still be out, and thought, Go away, go away, go away .
    That and, You really don't want see a naked man's backside. Or at least be polite enough not to look .

    Marj's steps slowed as she approached the back door of the building. There was a voice in her head warning her to go away. The sensation wasn't frightening, but it was very compelling. It took some doing, but she brushed the strange impulse aside, not about to ignore the needs of an injured creature.
    She'd spent much of the night tending to the greyhound. Its injures hadn't been accidental.
    The poor thing had several small but deep cuts, one on the back of the neck, one on the left ear. Marj figured that the beautiful animal was stolen, and the thieves had removed any identifying markings—a tattoo on the ear and an implanted ID chip in the neck.
    She'd been worried about the wolf all night. Yet here she was, standing out in the December cold, hesitant about checking on the animal. The drugging could wear off at any time. The wolf would be agitated, which wouldn't be good for it, her, or the other animals. Besides, it was her back storeroom, she'd go in if she wanted to.
    Maybe she should have left the wolf in the back of the truck, or in the barn or the kennels, but she wanted to keep the wild animal away from the cats, dogs, and other animals she sheltered on her property. Fortunately, she'd had Pat to help her wrestle the cage into her dark, narrow storeroom, even though he'd worried about her having a wolf on the premises.
    "He'll be behind bars, in a locked room," she'd pointed out, but she'd thanked the minister for his worry. She wasn't used to having anyone worry about her, and she didn't like it She appreciated having his physical strength, but when it came to emotional strength, she was used to going it on her own.
    Marj concentrated on opening the door. The very act of turning the knob was tiring, as if she were pushing against some invisible barrier. Pushing the door itself open was almost an act of courage.
    What, she was afraid of the big bad wolf?
    Go away, go away, go away.
    Marj shook her head and stepped inside.
    It was barely dawn, so there was little light coming through the small window set high in the back wall. But there was enough to make out the sight of a naked man's bare buttocks.

    "Good Lord almighty!"
    He was asleep in the wolf's cage, his legs drawn up beneath him, and he was naked. Big and broad-shouldered, with a hell of a fine ass, muscular thighs, and—naked. Really, really, made-to-be-looked-at, built-like-a-god naked.
    "Ohhh, my."
    It had been a while since she'd been this close to a naked man, and never to one this impressive. Though the sight was shocking, she came to her senses, and demanded, "What the hell are you doing in there?"
    The man didn't move. An arm covered his head, blocking his face. She took a step closer to the cage—and