Her vision blurred, Sam slowly maneuvered herself into a half-sitting position; she had just gotten her butt kicked good. At the same time she became aware of the enormous black wolf standing over her. What rotten luck, she thought grimly. She had survived an attack of a gorgon and lived to tell the tale, only to be eaten by big, bad wolf.
Too dazed to do much more, she raised her hands to defend her neck and face. But instead of ripping out her throat, the wolf edged closer and licked the cut on her forehead, whimpering.
His tongue felt like scratchy sandpaper, but somehow managed to be comforting. After he licked her forehead, the wolf laid his head in her lap, and Sam ran her fingers through his thick fur.
At the petting, the wolf seemed to sigh, then stuck his head in her crotch. About the same time, a dazed Sam put two and two together—Alex's clothing shredded on the wet, glistening pavement, the wolfs black hair and massive size, and the deep soulful gray eyes—and got four.
She was nobody's fool. Quickly recognizing the werewolf for who he was, she bopped him on the head. "Alex, if you sniff my crotch for one more second I'll rip out all your fur with my bare hands!"
The wolf crawled backward, his head lowered in a submissive pose.
Standing slowly, her body aching, Sam griped, "Oh give me a break. Cut the innocent act, Alex. You're about as blameless as Ivan the Terrible. And as you need obedience lessons, I'll take it up with Nic."
Alex whined.
Ignoring him, Sam smacked her forehead, forgetting momentarily about the sore spot. Pointing a finger at the guilty wolf, she berated him.
"You're a Russian werewolf in New York—another secret Nic didn't tell me! You're masters of sleazy secrets. You and your lying, sneaking pack of brothers. Damn! Where are my silver bullets when I need them?"
Alex ducked his head under his forepaw, his tail ceasing to thump.
"Nuts! I could really bust your chops. You and that lying dog of a brother. Why didn't you guys tell me you were werewolves? Damn, but you shapeshifters are a closemouthed bunch, aren't you? First Ripley, and now you. I can't believe Nic didn't tell me he's not human!"
Sam was off on the rant, and Alex whimpered again, his pose staying totally submissive.
"Don't duck your head, you four-pawed Judas! I'm on to your game."
Sam began to pace, jabbing an accusatory finger at Alex as she walked.
"I should have seen this coming a mile away. Cousin to a vampire, and really, really knowledgeable about the supernatural. That wild, musky scent that's all Nic. The way he made love to me like a wild animal. But then, he's ruled by his nature, isn't he? Yeah, that's right. The man's a wolf! Boy, would Charles Darwin have a field day with you guys!"
Alex nudged her leg, looking up at her with big puppy dog eyes, imploring her to forgive the family deception.
"I've always been a sucker for dogs," Sam admitted. "All right, all right. I know you probably saved my life. Saved by a werewolf from a gorgon—who would have thought it?" She shook her head, nudging Alex away again. "But I helped save your skin too, buster, so don't forget it. We're lucky to get out of here with our skins intact!"
Glancing down at Alex, she ruefully shook her head. "Of course, you didn't get out of here with your skin intact, since you're all furred up. Still, we're alive and kicking—or howling, as the case may be," she muttered.
Sam started to pace, giving the werewolf a long hard glare. "Nic should have told me. I'm a Paranormalbuster. I can keep a secret. I wouldn't have ratted you guys out to anybody."
Alex whined, looking sweet, which got to Sam again. "I know, I know! A werewolf's gotta do what a werewolf's gotta do. Well, so does a woman. I'm going to kill Nic. Leader of the pack or not, I'll rip into him like nobody's business! He's a werewolf in creep's clothing."
With those words, Alex changed back. His fur dispersed, his bones popped and his jaws receded, and Sam was stunned by the transformation's beauty. Golden light formed a halo around him.
Alex rose to a standing position, wincing. Glancing down at the marks on his right buttock, he fingered them. They were only long red scratches now, with purple bruising, due to the healing characteristics of his metabolism.
"This is going to be sore for a couple of days," he said.
Her arms across her chest, her stance militant, Sam looked anything but sympathetic. "I don't know, I kind of think it's justice. You yourself have been one big pain in the butt."
"Nic's going to kill me. You seeing me naked and all."
Sam shrugged dismissively, although the naked Strakhov was a fine specimen of male. "Like I care? You haven't got anything I haven't seen before." Tugging off her trench coat, she handed it to Alex, her silence damning.
Alex assumed a hangdog expression. Looking guilty, he pulled the coat on, his arms four inches longer than the sleeves. It barely closed in front as he tied the belt.
"I suppose you're the real thing? Werewolves by birth, not by bite?" Sam asked.
"That's right. Actually, we're descended from a long line of werewolves. A royal line. Nic's a prince." Recalling Nic's face and hauteur, Sam could have kicked herself for not surmising so sooner. "How could I have forgotten? Russia used to be overrun with princes before the Revolution. So, why should I be surprised?" Glaring at Alex disgustedly, Sam gave up. This dog had fleas, even if he was the wrong dog.
"Come on, let's go. I've got a wolfman to see."
Alex hesitated. "What about the woman Nero attacked? What happened to her? I lost sight of her during the battle."
"She's okay. She ran off in the opposite direction."
"Just think," Alex remarked, his chest puffed out with pride. "I ran the gorgon off!"
"Get a grip. It wasn't just you; it was the odds. Two against one."
"Well, it certainly wasn't your swordplay," Alex riposted.
"I never claimed to be the Highlander."
"And I guess I can live without any pats on the head for saving that girl's life and yours," Alex groused.
."Be thankful I don't make Nic take you to obedience school. You deserve it, you know." She looked down and smoothed out her clothing.
"Touchy, touchy, aren't you? If you weren't that good at sword fighting, why didn't you practice before this?" Alex asked. He knew Sam was a professional and professionals usually didn't slip up like that.
"Who says I didn't?" Sam said.
Alex's eyes widened. "You practiced today?"
"Most of it. I just didn't get much better."
Eyeing her up and down, Alex exclaimed, "That's hard to believe. I thought you were good at everything you do."
"Not fencing." Sheepishly, she admitted, "I flunked it in college."
Alex snorted, amused.
"Twice."
He broke into laughter. "Wait until I tell my big brother!"
"Wait until I tell him that you were sniffing my crotch. He'll rip off your nose and lower parts best left unmentioned."
Alex actually shuddered. "You're just no fun, Sam. What ever does my hardheaded brother see in you?" Grabbing her arm, he hurried her off into the foggy night, their footsteps ringing on the pavement. Their voices became echoes.
"Bossy wench."
"Dog breath!"