Rough River Coyotes 6

Healing a Hurt Mate

He feared the one thing he needed most…

Dreadfully lonely veterinarian Douglas “Dooley” Rae wants a mate, but what he finds is a coyote in desperate need of his help. Starving, dehydrated, and suffering violent seizures, the poor beast probably won’t survive the night. But Dooley has to do everything he can because he knows he isn’t dealing with an ordinary coyote but a human shifter.

Tristan Hart decided long ago to never burden anyone with the demands of his disease, but when he finds himself stuck in a coyote body, he has no choice but to accept Dooley’s help.

As they struggle to free Tristan from his animal form, the two men find themselves drawn to one another despite their differences. When nothing they try works, Dooley comes up with a dangerous plan and Tristan has to decide if becoming human again is worth risking his life.

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Paranormal, Shape-shifter Length: 36,071 words

HEALING A HURT MATE
Rough River Coyotes 6
Anitra Lynn McLeod

EVERLASTING CLASSIC MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic ManLove

HEALING A HURT MATE
Copyright © 2012 by Anitra Lynn McLeod E-book ISBN: 978-1-62241-004-0

First E-book Publication: October 2012

Cover design by Les Byerley

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DEDICATION

This one is for Madie.

Not a day goes by where I don’t miss you like crazy.

HEALING A HURT MATE

Rough River Coyotes 6
ANITRA LYNN MCLEOD

Copyright © 2012

Chapter 1

Dooley slammed on the brakes so hard he almost flung himself out the windshield.
“That will teach me to wear my seat belt.” He knew he should even if he was only going a few miles on the Rough River Ranch, but he constantly forgot. Still, he managed to stop in time to let part of the thousands of cattle that dotted the ranch run across the dirt road unharmed. Dooley frowned. There must have been a fence down somewhere for this many cattle to be milling about on the side of the road.
With the light fading fast from another glorious Utah desert sunset, Dooley decided to leave the cab of his truck and investigate. Since the heifers were used to him and all the other cowboys who moved the herd from place to place on the ranch so they always had good grass to eat, the cows wandered away from him but didn’t spook. Running his gaze over the fence line, he easily spotted the break.
Dooley had just opened his cell phone to let Marshal, his boss and owner of the ranch, know about the downed fence when several cows spooked and ran from his truck. Puzzled, Dooley returned to the cab, but the light had faded, making it difficult for him to see very well. When he reached into the truck and popped on the headlights, he saw what looked like a bundle of fur in the middle of the road.
“Dooley?” came a voice from his cell.
“Yeah, Dooley here, Marshal. I just wanted to let you know that part of the fence on the east sixty is down and—oh, no.”
“What?”
“We’ve got a downed coyote out here.” Dooley kept the line open as he grabbed his veterinarian bag off the floor of the truck. He might forget his seat belt, but he never forgot to take his medical bag with him no matter where he was going on the ranch. “I’m going to get him up into the cab and—”
Dooley cut himself off when the coyote at his feet began to shake. His mouth was filled with foam, and each time his head flicked he spun gobs of it off. To an uneducated eye, the coyote would appear to be suffering from rabies, but Dooley knew better. Dropping his bag into the dirt, he knelt down and pawed through the contents. He found a bottle of phenobarbital and a syringe, ripped off the sterile paper packaging, plunged the needle into the vial, filled it, and wrenched it free. Using his educated fingers, he found the cephalic vein in the left front leg and then injected the phenobarbital. Within seconds, the seizure stopped.
“Dooley? Dooley? Are you there?”
Dooley retrieved the abandoned phone. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry about that, but the coyote was having a seizure.”
“Do you want me to send someone out there?”
“Get someone out here with some lights and tools to fix the fence before the whole herd comes traipsing up the long drive and into the kitchen garden.”
“Will do. I’ll also have your clinic in the barn up and running by the time you get back.”
“Thanks.” Dooley clicked the end button and slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Well, now, little buddy. You feeling a bit better?” Dooley took his bandana from off his neck and wiped as much of the foamy spittle away as he could. The animal’s breathing was slow and hitching as if he’d run for miles. When he seemed to be tolerating the drug well, Dooley let loose a sigh of relief. “And that stuff is a hell of a lot better than status epilepticus, let me tell you what.” Dooley gently stroked his hand over the dog’s filthy coat, noticing that his ribs were clearly defined and his fur was shedding in clumps. From his quick inspection, he figured without intervention thebeast probably only had a week to live. “But I’m not going to let you down. You’re not going to die on my watch.”
While the beast was still woozy, Dooley loaded him into the back of the truck. He would have put him on the bench seat of the cab, but the danger of another seizure flinging him to the floor and twisting his neck was too great. The flatbed of the truck was far safer. With that much phenobarbital in his system, he wasn’t going to be standing up anytime soon.
Once he had the coyote situated, he jumped back in the cab, made a U-turn, and drove back to the farmhouse while splitting his attention between the road and the rearview mirror. Cool evening air poured in through his rolled-down window, filling the truck with the scent of scrub brush and Russian olive trees. Dooley hadn’t been many places in his life, but he didn’t need to go anywhere else. He was home. No other place on Earth filled him with as much peace as the Rough River Ranch did. Here, Dooley was able to do what he loved and share his life with men like himself.
“You, little buddy, you’ve got a mate here. I’m sure of it. And I’m going to get you well enough so you can find him.”
As soon as Dooley had gotten a good look at the coyote, he knew it wasn’t a regular coyote at all. Not with how big it was. Most coyotes in the high desert rarely got near forty pounds. This one had to be at least forty, but judging by his size, he should be around sixty. Dooley’s sympathy went into overdrive. The poor creature probably hadn’t known what was going on. When people or animals had seizures, they often lost chunks of time. They could end up with injuries and even die if their episodes happened in the wrong place at the wrong time. This coyote had probably been wandering in a state of hunger and dehydration, which only exacerbated the epileptic fits.
“But don’t you worry. I’m well versed in tending to a canine with epilepsy.” Dooley had nursed his fair share of animals who suffered from the ailment. The illness was surprisingly common in dogs, with almost five to ten percent of canines having epilepsy when only about one percent of the human population had the illness. “I haven’t lost a patient to seizures yet.”
Far more worrisome to Dooley was the animal’s obvious malnutrition. As he drove slowly toward his clinic and office in the back of the barn, he started calculating the best diet to bring the creature back to health. Too much too soon would only lead to vomiting, and with the coyote’s fragile health, that could cause serious damage.
He considered but rejected the idea that treating him as a human would be easier. As a man, he’d be able to tell them where he hurt, but the mental trauma might be more than the man was ready to face. Dooley could only imagine the man’s confusion to wake up as a canine only to have seizures that compounded his memory loss from shifting.
As soon as Dooley pulled up into the circular drive that spanned the main buildings of the ranch, he found Marshal and his mate, Elliot, waiting to help him carry in his patient. Dooley also saw several other cowboys pulling out of the drive with fence-fixing gear loaded into the back of their truck. They waved in passing as Dooley backed up into the open double doors of the barn.
“Aw, look at the poor thing.” Elliot had the tailgate down and was petting the coyote while Marshal brought the stretcher.
Carefully, they eased the device under the dog, and then Dooley and Marshal carried him into the makeshift office that had become more permanent over the years. Whenever Dooley had money, he generally invested it in his animal clinic.
“What happened to him?” Marshal looked the creature over and winced.
“I don’t know exactly, but I think he’s been wandering for a long time.” Dooley patted the coyote’s leg tenderly.
When he whimpered in return, Elliot let out a commiserating cry then tearfully asked, “Will he live?”
“I’ll do my best.” But now that Dooley had the animal in full light, he wasn’t so sure he could save him.
“His ribs are practically poking out of his skin.” Marshal grimaced. “And his fur…”
“I know.”
Marshal comforted Elliot and then sent him inside to get Dooley some coffee and food. As soon as he was gone, Marshal turned to Dooley. “If he’d be better off…I mean, if you can’t help him, I don’t want him to suffer.”
Dooley nodded. It was a hard fact of life on a ranch that sometimes the best thing Dooley could do for an animal was put it out of its misery. The fact that this coyote was a shifter didn’t change that fact—it only made it far more complicated. Dooly had euthanized animals, but the thought of having that kind of power over a man filled Dooley with dull terror.
“I honestly don’t know if I could.”
Marshal scowled as he nodded in agreement. “Let’s not go there unless or until we have to.”
“Is that why you sent Elliot away?”
“He would cry his eyes out at the very idea. I don’t want him to worry.”
To Dooley, that spoke volumes about how much Marshal loved his mate. He’d take the burden totally onto himself so that Elliot could lay his head down and sleep without nightmares.
“You’re a good man.” Dooley looked down at his patient. Slowly, he breathed in and out. Now that he was on a level surface, he seemed to be breathing easier, or it might just have been wishful thinking. “I’m going to do everything in my power to not have to get in that position.”
“If anyone can help him, I put my faith in you.” Marshal helped Dooley set up an IV to boost the coyote’s fluid level. “What are we going to call him?”
“I’d like to call him Lucky since he is, but I think Cole’s mate wouldn’t take kindly to me usurping his name, so how about Hope?”
“I like it.” Tenderly, Marshal rubbed Hope’s paw. “We’re going to get you better, little one. Just you wait and see.”
By the time Elliot came out with Dooley’s supper and a huge mug of coffee that was half milk with a ton of sugar in it, Dooley had transferred Hope to a cushioned cage.
“But he looks so pitiful in there.” Elliot peered into the wire enclosure and frowned.
“I know it seems mean, but he really is in there for his own protection. If he has another seizure, there’s nowhere for him to fall and he can’t get his limbs wedged anywhere. I also don’t want him wandering off.”
“Why would he leave when we’re helping him?”
“He may not think that’s what’s happening.” Dooley explained how seizures could wipe recentmemories away. “That, coupled with the memory loss he’s got from shifting in the first place, would make him terribly confused.”
“And potentially dangerous.” Marshal wrapped his arm around Elliot’s shoulders then kissed the top of his blond head. “I know you want to help, and I’m sure Dooley will be happy to find something for you to do, but keep in mind that right now Hope doesn’t know what the hell is happening to him.”
Dooley knelt down by the cage and whispered, “Don’t you worry, Hope. Everyone here isnice, and we’re going to make you better so you can find your mate.”

Chapter 2

Find your mate. Find your mate. Find your mate.
The softly spoken words echoed in Hope’s mind. He knew that wasn’t his real name, but right now he didn’t care. It was something for his confused brain to latch on to, so he clung to the title for all he was worth. Hope was what he needed, and hope was what the caring stranger had given him. Finally, he’d found help. The last few weeks flashed in his mind in a bundle of confusion. He felt as if he’d been wandering the desert for years. Blistering sun beat down on him, forcing him to find shelter, which he did, only to wake up back in the broiling sun again. He had no idea what was happening to him until the sweet-voiced stranger used the word epilepsy.
Something about that word sparked deeply buried memories. He’d had the disease all his life, and he took medication daily. He still had breakthrough seizures, but they weren’t as debilitating as they used to be. There was a timewhen the fits were so violent he’d broken his own arm. With that horrible memory came one of his father beating him while screaming at the devil to come out of his child.
Hope had been removed from his parents’ home shortly after that episode. A series of foster care homes left him even more broken and untrusting. It seemed no one wanted him because he was simply too much trouble to care for. If they had given him his medication as ordered, he wouldn’t have been a problem, but some of his substitute parents took the drugs themselves to get high, or sold them for a profit, or feared he’d become a junky so they doled them out at half of what they should, and still there were those who believed he was possessed by a devil and needed to be exorcised.
Hope remembered the day he turned eighteen. Finally, he had the right to be in charge of his own medication. He cleaned himself up, got himself a job, an apartment, and finished high school. As soon as he’d become the captain of his own life he’d had surprisingly smooth sailing. Until…and there the memories got hopelessly muddy.
He’d gone on from high school to college, but he couldn’t remember if he graduated or what he did for a living. Hell, he couldn’t even remember how old he was. Feeling like he was eighty didn’t mean he was actually that old.
“I’m going to bunk down in here so I can be near you if you need anything.”
Hope opened his eyes and got his first good look at the stranger. He was beautiful. His face was open and kind with an easy smile and eyes that looked like they could dance with laughter. Oddly, Hope couldn’t tell the colors of either since his eyes were different than usual. Must be something to do with the fact he was a dog now. He found this strange, but also there was a good reason for it that he felt he just couldn’t remember.
“You’re awake.” The man smiled at him, and his whole face transformed into something so blissfully compassionate Hope felt like crying. “I’m Dooley. I’m going to take care of you.”
Hope nodded.
“Do you understand me?”
Again, Hope nodded.
“Good. Are you hungry?”
After considering the state of his form, Hope decided he wasn’t all that hungry. His whole body hurt and all he wanted right now was to sleep, so he shook his head.
“I’m not surprised. Let’s get you hydrated first, and then I think your appetite will come back. Now you might feel a little woozy, but that’s because I gave you a shot of phenobarbital for the seizure. I have Valium trickling in with the saline to keep you calm and prevent anymore seizures so you can recover.”
Ah, Valium, Hope thought. No wonder he felt all soft around the edges. He’d only taken it a few times when he was worried about a seizure striking at the worst time, like when he was traveling on a plane, but he avoided the drug for the most part because the feeling of spaced-out bliss was a little too addictive. Besides, there were better drugs for prophylactic seizure control.
“If you need anything, just yip and I’ll be awake.” Dooley grinned at him again. “You won’t be able to tell me exactly what you want, but I’m a pretty good guesser.”
Hope nodded and tried to grin, but his lips felt heavy. He clamped his jaws together and licked his lips. His mouth tasted like dirt.
“Thirsty?”
Nodding vigorously, Hope realized he was so thirsty he could drink out of the toilet, but he had a feeling Dooley would not let him suffer that indignity. Besides, he was locked up in a cage.
Rising to his feet, Dooley disappeared from Hope’s sight then returned with a small plastic bowl. Hope was disappointed because right now he felt like he could drink ten bowls that size.
“I know it’s small, but if you drink too much too fast, you’re going to throw it right back up.”
Hope flashed him a look that he wanted to ask how do you know?
“I know because I’m a veterinarian.”
Hope nodded. That was a very good answer for how he knew so much about water, epilepsy, and canines. Dooley opened the cage and settled the bowl in front of Hope. The water smelled so good he started to drool. With a few swipes of his tongue he finished the water and practically licked the bowl dry.
“Good,” Dooley praised him then set his watch. “In fifteen minutes you can have some more.”
Dooley left the cage open, but Hope had no intention of trying to run. For the first time in weeks he felt safe. And there was something about this man that filled him with peace. He was kind, generous, and he honestly cared about helping Hope. Moreover, he seemed to know that he was a man trapped in a coyote’s body. A surge of excitement lifted Hope’s ears. Maybe this man knew what had caused the startling transformation and how he could reverse it. Once human, Hope would be able to get back on track with his meds, his job, and his very life. Not being able to take care of himself was a frightening situation. Although, if he had to rely on anyone, he couldn’t have picked a more trustworthy man.
True to his word, fifteen minutes later Dooley brought him another bowl of water. After drinking it down, Hope rested his head on his paws. His eyelids felt very heavy.
“You rest now.” Dooley closed the cage. “I’m going to be right here if you need me.”
Hope woke up several times during the night, and each time he did, he discovered Dooley was right there on the cot. Once he yipped and Dooley was at his side in a flash, offering him more water, which Hope gratefully drank. Each time Dooley came when he called reassured Hope that he would never abandon him or let him suffer. Dooley was a man of his word. Content for the first time in a long time, Hope allowed himself to drift off into a very deep sleep.
Dreams turned to nightmares but left him unscathed. By the time morning came and filled the room with golden light, Hope felt remarkably refreshed. He wasn’t at his ultimate best, but he was a hell of a lot better than he had been last night.
Across from him was Dooley on the cot. One hairy leg was sticking out of the blanket, and the pillow was hanging off the edge. Dooley was on his side with one arm draped over and almost touching the floor. Rather than wake him, Hope let him sleep and just admired him. He wasn’t classically handsome, but he had an open sweetness to his face that melted into raw sex appeal when Hope looked at his body. Dooley had a very nice body. He was strong with well-defined muscles and skin that was burnished from sun exposure. Even with his altered vision, Hope could tell that Dooley ran around without a shirt because his chest, arms, and back were very tan. But it was just as obvious he didn’t run around in shorts because his legs were so white they practically glowed.
If he had been able to, Hope would have chuckled. Not to make fun of Dooley, just that it was kind of cute how he looked all sacked out on his cot. When Dooley groaned and rolled on his back, Hope felt his furry eyebrows rise. Dooley was packing some serious morning wood in his plaid boxers. Clearly still deep in sleep, Dooley reached down and rearranged himself absently. Once he got everything situated, he sighed and settled in for another forty winks.
Hope closed his eyes. He wasn’t tired, but he wasn’t going to wake up his hero unless he was in dire straits. Eventually, Dooley yawned, smacked his lips together, and then rolled over.
“Morning.”
Hope nodded.
Dooley climbed out of bed, put his pillow and blanket away, and then folded up the cot. He did all of this with his erection still plenty hard, but Dooley seemed to be ignoring it. Sadly, Hope couldn’t do the same. Dooley came to Hope’s cage with the small bowl filled with water and let him drink. Hope licked the bowl clean and then gave a little whimper.
“I know. Let’s get you up and take you outside.” Dooley pulled on his jeans, socks, and boots. “You ready to try to stand?”
Hope nodded and did his best to get up, but he was still too weak. He wanted to cry with frustration. If he wet himself in front of Dooley, he would never be able to look at him again.
“Don’t you worry. I’ve got something that will help. Now don’t think this is permanent because it’s not. It’s just until you get your strength back.” Dooley pulled a curious contraption from one of the cabinets. “I made this for a dog that had hip dysplasia. It will help me to help you to get around until your legs are working properly again.”
Hope eyed the contraption with dubious interest.
Holding the device out to him, Dooley explained how it worked. “It’s real simple. It’s basically a long rectangle of fabric with a handle on the short ends. I’ll slip it around your belly, and then I can help to hold you up as you walk. That way, your leg muscles will get stronger, but you won’t have to stay in here and get a catheter.”
Hope nodded vigorously. He knew what a catheter was, and he didn’t want one if he could avoid it. Having a long piece of tubing inserted into his penis to tap his bladder didn’t sound appealing in the least.
“Okay. Now, I’m going to slide you out on the pad.” Dooley didn’t even strain to move Hope around. He didn’t know how much he weighed, but even at his full normal human weight of one twenty he didn’t think Dooley would have a problem moving him. “I’m going to slide this under.” Dooley placed one big hand on his belly and lifted him so he could get the fabric under Hope’s body. “Okay. Now it’s going to feel really weird at first, but we are going to go slow until you get used to it.”
With Dooley’s big, strong arm taking the bulk of Hope’s weight, he was able to stand.
Carefully, they walked toward the double hung doors. Hope really needed to go now, but he wanted to be out and away from the barn. As if he sensed his need, Dooley increased the pace. They got outside just in time. Hope was a little embarrassed to do his business in front of Dooley, but he didn’t stare or say anything. Since the man was a veterinarian, he’d probably seen all kinds of animals go. Still, it was a little uncomfortable. But better a little embarrassment this way than a lot by pissing himself in his cage.
“Now we’re going to walk around a bit so you can exercise.”
Easy steps and a gentle pace gave Hope confidence that he would eventually get better.
“Whenever you need to go, just give me that low whining yip and I’ll get you out of the cage. Okay?”
Hope nodded, but he prayed he’d be strong enough to go on his own soon. As much as he appreciated Dooley’s steadfast and reliable help, he was bound and determined to take care of himself.

Chapter 3

“So no word yet on who he belongs to?” Cassidy asked as he cooked up Dooley’s special order.
“No. I think it’s going to be a long while before Hope gets to that stage.” Dooley watched Cassidy work as he sipped his coffee. Well, according to Cassidy, it was his milk-and-sugar drink that was spiked with coffee, but Dooley didn’t care. It was what he loved and perked him right up in the morning. “But then again, he’s really surprised me in just a short twelve hours. Last night I really thought…”
“He might die?” Cassidy kept his voice low.
Dooley nodded and made a grim face. “I’ve never seen an animal in such poor condition. But he’s bouncing back so fast it’s really quite amazing.”
“Aw, it’s probably your tender loving care.” Cassidy lifted the pan off the stove. “Does that look about right to you?”
“Perfect. Now drop two eggs in the center, cook till soft, and voilà! We have the perfect puppy put-onweight food.” Dooley watched Cassidy crack the eggs and swirl them through the fat-laden meats.
“It doesn’t smell too appetizing.”
“Yeah. But it should to a coyote. Why in the world did we happen to have liver on hand?” Dooley didn’t know anyone who ate it.
“Wilson wanted it for his birthday.”
“Oh, man. I swear, I’ll go into town and—”
“Don’t worry about it. I bought three of them so I could figure out how to cook it correctly. Doing this for Hope just helped me out.” Cassidy grinned, showed him the pan again, and once he declared it fit for a hurt coyote, he spread the mixture out on a plate to cool. “Don’t want to feed him something that will burn his mouth.”
“How right you are.” Dooley eyed the bacon.
“Go ahead.”
“Just to make it a little more appetizing.”
Cassidy watched him crumble a piece over the mixture on the plate.
“You’re sweet on him!” Cassidy exclaimed.
“What?” Dooley washed his hands. “How is wanting to be nice to a suffering animal suddenly transformed into me being sweet on him?”
“Because I thought the big eyes were for you to have a piece of bacon, yet here you are, giving it away.” Cassidy grinned as he picked up another piece of bacon and fed it to Dooley. “Now, take your treats and go, lover boy.”
Dooley would have volleyed a smart comment back, but he had a mouthful of bacon that he wasn’t going to spit out. Not when the bacon was so good it practically danced in his mouth. As he cut through the main hall, he saw Marshal and his mate, Elliot, coming down the stairs.
“I’m assuming that’s for your patient?” Marshal asked, optimism bright in his eyes.
“It is, indeed.”
“Can I help?” Elliot had shown a lot of interest in becoming a veterinarian, or at least a technician, but Marshal and Dooley both worried that he simply wasn’t cut out for some of the more gritty aspects. Still, there wasn’t any harm in letting him help with the easier parts.
“I’d love some help. But get yourself some breakfast and bring it over before Marshal eats everything.”
“Have you eaten?” Elliot asked.
“No.”
“Then I’ll bring you a plate, too.” Elliot was off to the kitchen, leaving Dooley alone with Marshal in the front room.
“Is he really better?”
“By leaps and bounds. I don’t know what happened, but he really perked up last night after I got some fluids into him. He was even able to walk around with some assistance this morning.”
“That’s wonderful. The idea of having to make that call…”
“Yeah.” That was one position Dooley never wanted to be in. “I’m going to start in with some food today, so I’ll need to be with him most of the day.”
“You’ve got it. If you need anything, ask Elliot. He’d love to be any help to you that he could be.”
“He’s so caring to all the animals.” Dooley thought of Cassidy saying that he was sweet on Hope, and he supposed he was, but he genuinely cared about all his charges. “But if someone needs me—”
“We can call on Doc. He’s pretty good at pinch hitting for you. And vice versa. The ranch is lucky to have both of you.”
“I thought Doc went on vacation?”
“Oh, right.” Marshal rolled his eyes. “He’s always saying he’s going to go, but so far he never really has.”
“What’s holding him back?”
“I don’t know. I thought he was afraid something would happen to someone on the ranch and he’d feel badly if he wasn’t here to take care of them. I even offered to get a temporary doctor out here but nope.” Marshal shook his head. “I love his dedication and yours, but you both need to learn to take breaks.”
“Well, maybe when we get mates we’ll have to.” Dooley thought of all the things he and his mate could do. “But we won’t have to leave the ranch, if you know what I mean.”
As a man who had spent days in bed with his mate, Marshal undoubtedly knew exactly what Dooley meant. When Dooley saw Elliot coming up the hall with two plates, he went over and opened the main door.
Out he went on Elliot’s heels.
“I can’t wait to see him again. He really had me worried last night.” Elliot was the tallest of the beta males at an even six feet, and he had the most unusual green eyes. His mate called them otherworldly, and Dooley had to agree. Elliot’s dirty-blond hair was getting longer every day, but he didn’t want to cut it. Elliot said he’d always wanted long hair, but because of his father’s political ambitions he hadn’t been allowed to grow it out. Now he could. “You said he was doing a lot better?”
“By far.” Dooley looked down at the plate of special food. “I’ll be feeding him this slowly over the course of the day.”
“Every hour?”
“Or two, depending on how he tolerates it.”
Since Elliot’s hands were full, Dooley got the door. As they made their way back to the small clinic, Dooley heard a curious noise. He moved a little faster toward the back, worried that Hope was having another seizure. When he entered the room he almost laughed with relief to see his patient gently rubbing his nails across the bars of his cage. It made Dooley think of prisoners clanging their metal cups over the bars of their jail cells.
“You want out?”
Hope shook his head no.
“Are you bored?”
Hope nodded that he was, and then his nose started wiggling and he edged toward the plate in Dooley’s hand.
“Yes, it’s for you. Hold on while I get your bowl.”
While Dooley set things up for Hope, Elliot arranged their breakfast plates on the counter.
“Did you ask him his name?” Elliot took a bite of the scrambled eggs and made a yummy sound.
“Well, no. It’s not like he can answer.” Dooley opened the cage and placed the bowl with about a quarter cup of food in it for Hope’s inspection. After sniffing it, he ate everything, but he didn’t chomp and gulp like most dogs. Hope was human after all. He took his time and seemed to be savoring everything. Once he’d cleaned the bowl, Dooley took it, rinsed it, and offered him water, which he drank. Dooley couldn’t have been more pleased.
While he did this, Elliot ate most of his breakfast. While Dooley ate his, he watched as Elliot tried to figure out Hope’s name. Elliot slowly went through the alphabet, having Hope tap his paw when he got to the right letter. By the time Dooley had finished his meal, Elliot had a name.
“Tristan.”
“Tristan,” Dooley repeated. “I like it.”
“Me, too,” Elliot said. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Is our patient up for a bath?”
Tristan nodded vigorously.
“Okay, then. Bath time it is.” Working together they got Tristan into the back where Dooley had set up a place to clean the animals he cared for. Most of them hated it, hence the restraints, but that wasn’t an issue with Tristan. He loved being washed. His head was lolled to the side, his eyes closed, and he made a noise that sounded almost like a purr. The only reason Dooley had used the restraints was to help Tristan stand upright.
Normally, Dooley would leave this kind of work to his assistant, but he wanted to stay with Tristan through everything. Knowing that he could rely on Dooley to be there for him was a critical part of his care. Rebuilding his routine was just as important as addressing all his other needs. Whether his epilepsy had come from his human or canine brain didn’t matter so much when the treatment was relatively the same for both. Consistency, compassion, and the very best care would get him both literally and figuratively on his feet.
When Dooley’s watch chimed, he got another dose of phenobarbital ready. Just as he did with the other animals, Dooley explained everything he was doing to his patient. It only struck him strange when he knew that there was a human mind within the animal he treated. One who could understand what he was saying. “Okay, this is phenobarbital for the seizures.”
Tristan shook his head.
“I’m sure as a human you take something else, like ethosuximide, valproic acid, or lamotrigine, and those drugs are great, but I don’t have them.” Dooley shrugged. “I’m a vet after all, so we have to work with what I have. Okay?”
Tristan nodded with a look that Dooley swore said he totally understood the limitations they were working under.
“I know the phenobarbital probably makes you feel clumsy, dizzy, and sleepy, but the only other antiseizure drug I have is Valium, and that would make all those same issues even more profound.” Dooley had Elliot hold Tristan stable in the harness while he gave him the shot. “But don’t worry. When you switch back to human, we have a medical doctor who can get you your regular prescriptions.”
Dooley swore Tristan relaxed and not from the drug. That release of tension told Dooley that the epilepsy he suffered was there when he was human, and he was very concerned about getting back on his regular schedule of medication.
While Elliot finished up Tristan’s bath, Dooley made sure his cage was clean, but just to be on the safe side he changed out the blanket for a new one. After a bath he’d want new bedclothes, so he figured Tristan would, too.
“Dooley!” Elliot’s frantic call shot Dooley to his feet so fast he gave himself a head rush. Ignoring the feeling, he ran into the bathing area to find Tristan foaming at the mouth, flicking his head, and chomping his teeth. To an untrained eye, it almost looked like Tristan was trying to catch flies out of the air.
“Damn.”
“What do I do?” Elliot’s otherworldly eyes were as big as coffee cups.
“Take a deep breath, Elliot. Be calm. You can’t help him if you’re frantic.” After damn near knocking himself out by rocketing to his feet, Dooley realized he should take his own advice. “Get the towel and place it here on the floor.”
Elliot did as instructed.
“Now help me get him down from the straps. We can leave the harness on, but he should be on his side as quickly but calmly as possible.” Dooley deliberately talked in a slow manner and kept his voice even. As Dooley held up Tristan’s body, Elliot unhooked the clasps. Dooley got Tristan on his side with his head on the folded-up towel. “Now go get my bag from the counter.”
Moving swiftly but not panicking, Elliot retrieved the bag. “But you just gave him phenol—pheno—”
“Phenobarbital,” Dooley confirmed. “I did, but I might have given him too little too late. Epilepsy is a very tricky diseaseto treat.”
As the seizure deepened, Tristan stopped flicking his head and chomping his teeth. His body went rigid, his eyes rolled back, and he started to fishtail and move his front paws like he was paddling. Dooley had Elliot gently but firmly keep Tristan from bashing his head into the concrete floor.
“I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Does talking during the seizure help?”
“I think it does. Keep gently holding him down and talking to him while I get the medicationready.” Dooley filled a syringe with Valium and then injected that into another vein on Tristan’s body. He didn’t want to keep hitting the same one and potentially collapse it.
“Why isn’t it working?” Elliot sounded a little frazzled, but not freaked. He might turn out to be a better veterinarian technician than Dooley and Marshal thought.
“It’s not an instantaneous thing. It will stop the seizure eventually—there.” Beneath their soothing hands, Tristan went limp. “The other thing the Valium will do is stop another seizure from happening. Some scientists speculate that one seizure causes another. They call it kindling because it can catch fire and then the brain just goes into a firestorm of electrical activity.”
“And then?”
“Status epilepticus. If that isn’t stopped, a patient will die. But that is not going to happen here.” By keeping his manner controlled and calm, Dooley was able to keep Elliot relaxed, and if Tristan could hear him, he would know everything was fine. Sadly, Dooley was putting on a front. He knew epilepsy was tricky to treat, but he’d never had a patient have such an incredibly low threshold for seizure activity. If he didn’t get a handle on this and quick, Tristan could die and Dooley would never be able to forgive himself.

Chapter 4

Tristan woke up in a cage. He looked around and tried to remember where he was. Nothing came to mind. When he looked down, he realized he had paws and not hands. He was a dog? For some reason, that was both familiar and bizarre.

“Tristan?”

He looked up into an impossibly kind face. Without even being aware he was doing anything, he thumped his tail.
“I’m so glad you’re back.”
The beautiful stranger opened up the cage and pet his head. When he rubbed his fingers behind Tristan’s ears, Tristan rumbled with pleasure.
“Are you thirsty?”
Tristan opened his eyes and cocked his head at the man. How did he understand what he was saying? He was a dog. Maybe this man was his owner. God, he hoped so. He smelled so good, and his touch was magic.
“Why does he look confused?” It was a cute blond man, younger than the other, but he seemed just as nice. “He looks happy, but confused.”
“Epilepsy can wipe short-term memory. Give him some time to remember who we are and what’s going on. That was a pretty strong seizure.”
Epilepsy? Seizure? Both those words evoked a strong reaction in Tristan. He felt like he should know what they were, what they meant, but he didn’t. The information seemed to hover right on the edge of his understanding.
“You’re going to be fine.” The man offered out a bowl of water, which Tristan greedily drank. “I’m Dooley. I’m your veterinarian. This is Elliot. He’s my technician. You had a seizure, but you’re okay now.”
Tristan absorbed all this information, but what he couldn’t grasp was why he was a dog or how this man knew that he could understand him. Was it normal for dogs to understand humans so exactly? How in the world could he speak the same language?
When the man brought the bowl over a second time, it contained a mixture of meats that had his nose wiggling and his mouth watering. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember ever being so hungry and thirsty. He wanted to just inhale the food but restrained himself because he didn’t want the man with the kind face to think he lacked manners. Evenif he was a dog, he didn’t have to behave like one.
While he ate, he watched the two men interact. They seemed to be colleagues and nothing more. Why that should concern him he wasn’t sure, but he had some kind of attachment to Dooley. He doubted that anyanimal that came across his path didn’t like him. He had a compassionate face, and his voice was as soothing as a warm summer day. Listening to the cadence of their speech relaxed the worry in Tristan’s mind. Wherever he was, he was safe. He was comfortable, and he was clean. He felt that his fur was just now drying.
From a bath.
Where he’d had another seizure.
And wet himself.
Tristan finished eating and then hung his head in shame as everything came rushing back. He’d had another seizure right after Dooley had given him phenobarbital. They’d been bathing him, so maybe they hadn’t noticed that his bladder let go. Or perhaps, given his work, Dooley simply didn’t make note of it because it was normal. It was part of the disease and therefore nothing to be worried about. But Tristan worried. It was bad enough that he had to rely on Dooley for everything, but to have him be a witness to all his bodily functions was just embarrassing.
During a seizure as a human, he often lost his bladder, and that was why he worked at home. He felt a sudden surge of pleasure at remembering. So much of his memory seemed to be poked full of holes, almost like a message board that had been used for decades and was now riddled with pinpricks. To remember even one simple thing like what he did for a living made him feel he was making progress. Slow and torturous as it was, at least he was headed in the right direction. Soon he’d be back on his feet—his human feet—and he’d be out of here and back to his life.
Tristan remembered his apartment. It was small but cozy, and he had everything he needed right there, so he rarely had to venture out. Inside the safety of his living quarters, he had arranged things so that he could have a seizure just about anywhere and just about any time and be safe. Everything had smooth or soft edges. The floors were covered with thick carpets. There were no stairs or slatted furniture to trip on or get a limb stuck under. It was as harmless as he could make it. Finally, he’d been able to take care of himself without anyone’s help.
As soon as he was healed enough to get out of this body and out of this cage, he could go right back to his place and pick up where he left off. But for now, he had to keep trusting that Dooley would be there for him. The notion of relying on another for his care terrified Tristan. He’d done everything he could to be self-sufficient. Being capable of tending to his own needs was the most important thing he’d ever managed to do, and there was no way he was going to stay in someone else’s care any longer than he had to.
“Are you finished?” Dooley crouched down and took the bowl away. “More water?”
Tristan nodded.
“Coming up.” Dooley carefully washed and rinsed the bowl then brought it back over. “It’s the medication and the fact that you were pretty dehydrated when I found you. I’ve set up another IV to try to keep you hydrated. But that does mean you’re going to need to pee a bit more often.”
Tristan winced his eyes closed. This morning had been bad enough.
“Don’t look like that. It’s not a big deal. Everybody has to pee. And at least I know your kidneys are working. Considering how hurt you were when I found you, that’s nothing short of amazing.”
When he’d found him? It took a moment for Tristan to remember yesterday and his last-ditch effort to find help. He’d been so sick and confused. Worse, he’d been crazed by thirst and hunger. In his haze of need, he’d tried to attack a cow. It had been a pathetic failure. The animals had panicked and charged away from him and toward a fence. When they knocked it down, Tristan followed and then saw the truck. It had been Dooley driving. His savior. And now the sinfully sweet man was his caregiver.
If Tristan could slink away in shame, he would. But he couldn’t, so he huddled in his cage.
“Are you cold?” Dooley reached out and pet Tristan’s head, rubbing that spot behind his ears, the one that made all his worries seem minor. Back and forth his powerful fingers stroked until Tristan was on his side, dozing.
“The poor thing,” Elliot said softly.
“He’s so not happy about this.” Dooley eased back and closed the cage as quietly as he could.
Tristan stayed where he was, feigning sleep. He didn’t want them to know he was listening. He wanted to hear what they said when they didn’t think he was awake. So far all he heard was a big dose of pity, and that was the worst thing Tristan could think of. Why couldn’t he have a semblance of a normal life? Why couldn’t he have what everyone else took for granted? Once, only one time had he reached out to another, hoping for companionship and love, but he’d been repulsed by Tristan’s disease. The look on Maury’s face after witnessing a seizure was something Tristan swore he would never see again. That look that mingled pity and disgust was never, ever going to darken his life again because Tristan was determined to be alone and take care of himself.
Just as soon as he got out of here, he was going right back where he could do that. Because if there was one thing Tristan knew for sure, it was that he could never count on anyone for long.

Chapter 5

“He’s walking on his own and he’s all systems normal, but I can’t stop the damn seizures and I’m at my wits’ end.” Dooley was sitting at the kitchen table with Doc. His real name was Spencer Hall, but everyone called him Doc. He was three inches taller than Dooley and had short black hair that he wore slicked back. His warm brown eyes were hidden behind nerdy glasses. Dooley always thought if Doc ditched the specs he’d catch a lot more guys, but Doc said he was only interested in one. And that was his mate. He also said he wanted to be able to see the man when he showed up, so the glasses stayed. But right now Dooley didn’t care if Doc wanted to wear a screaming chicken on his head. If he could help him treat Tristan, Dooley would say the squawking bird was the finest hat in the land.

“These are the protocols that you’ve tried?” Doc looked over the list of drugs, their dosages, their timing, and everything that Dooley had fed Tristan. “Damn but you keep meticulous notes.”

“Thanks.”

Doc peered over the rim of his glasses. “You didn’t let me finish. You take meticulous notes, but it’s too bad you have the handwriting of a landtossed octopus.”

“Your slanders against my penmanship are getting ever more creative. Can you read it?” Dooley needed to blow off some steam with humor, but he also wanted to stay on track. Elliot was with Tristan for now, but Dooley didn’t like to leave him for more than twenty minutes. Not that Elliot couldn’t call him if there was an emergency, he had his cell phone with him, just that Dooley wanted to be there for Tristan. He felt guilty that he couldn’t manage his seizures and every time one of them came along it wiped out Tristan’s memories and it took him longer to get them back.

Seeing the confusion in his eyes was eating up Dooley. Worse, Tristan couldn’t seem to remember how to switch back to human, or maybe he’d been in coyote form for so long he thought that was what he was. Dooley could have sat his ass down and used Elliot’s slow but clear alphabet tapping method of communication, but he hadn’t mainly because he was afraid of the answer. If Tristan didn’t know he was trapped in there, then Dooley certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him. But withholding the information felt wrong, too. Dooley felt damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

“My concern about treating Tristan with drugs made for humans is twofold.” Doc slid the paperwork across the table and picked up his coffee cup. “First off, there is the issue of him being able to tolerate the drugs. Just because they work on humans doesn’t mean that transfers over to dogs. And even if a drug is safe for a dog, does that make it safe for a coyote? Well, and not even that as he’s a coyote- shifting human. We wouldn’t know if it was toxic to him until he took it, and that’s simply too dangerous.”

“Yeah.” Dooley had been hunting high and low, scouring the Internet for any information on any drug, diet, or technique for lessening, eliminating, or lowering the frequency of seizures for dogs or humans. So much of it was speculation and some of it was downright dangerous. Tonight he’d finally had a chance to bounce his ideas off Doc. “But I have to do something. Phenobarbital and Valium just aren’t cutting it. I even started him on potassium bromide, but it takes a while for the drug to build up. And it’s making him so sick. He takes it because he wants the seizures to stop, but half the time he throws it up.”

“I imagine a big dose of that stuff is just nasty.”
“I finally started giving him a dose every hour and he’s tolerating it, but it’s still going to be another two weeks before he has a high enough concentration in his blood to even see an effect.”
“I read something about a ketogenic diet working well with children.” Doc rose and refilled his cup from the smaller carafe that Cassidy always left in the kitchen after he went to bed. Someone on the ranch was always coming in late for a cup of coffee to keep them up for a special project. Cassidy was a man who always anticipated the needs of others. Without him they’d all starve.
Doc held out the pot, but Dooley shook his head. “My worry is keeping me up just fine. I don’t think I want caffeine keeping it company.”
“Probably not. Those two would have a massive party in your noggin.” Doc sat back down and sighed. “I’m sorry I’m not more help.”
“No, you’ve been great. Honest. It’s just a tricky situation with him being a shifter.” Dooley didn’t want Tristan trapped in his coyote body. He knew it was wrong to become so emotionally attached to a patient, buthe couldn’t seem to help himself this time. Tristan was some man’s mate. Dooley felt like if he failed to heal him he’d ruin two men’s lives.
“I wish I could make this easier for him. And you. I know it’s just eating you alive.”
“It shows?” Dooley absently rubbed his face. He hadn’t shaved for three days.
“You look like a bum. All you need is a bottle in a paper sack and your outfit would be complete.” Doc bid him good night and left.
To think Dooley had been reluctant to have Elliot as his full-time technician because he feared he wouldn’t be able to handle the tougher calls of the job, and here he was violating a golden rule. Veterinarians had to learn that they couldn’t save every animal. Often they learned that lesson the hard way. Some eventually burned out because the emotional toll became too much. Others had to harden a heart that then made them question their humanity. Dooley had taken a much safer middle road. By staying on the ranch he worked with a fairly set number and type of animals. He didn’t have the painful dilemma of having to deal with indigent owners who had to put their animals to sleep because they simply couldn’t pay. He also didn’t have to deal with indifferent owners who looked at the bottom line before they looked at their pet. To some, pets were like furnishings. To get rid of a broken puppy was no different than tossing out a broken chair. So Dooley had isolated himself from those things because he had a boss who cared about his herd but also knew when keeping an animal alive was more cruel than ending its suffering. But worse than all of that was not knowing what to do to help an animal who really wasn’t an animal at all.
“They certainly didn’t cover this in ethics class.” Dooley rose and rubbed his chin again. If Doc noticed, then surely Tristan had, too. The least he could do was inspire confidence in his patient. Dooley went down the center hall then up the stairs. Since he was on call twenty-four/seven, he had a room in the farmhouse. He literally thanked God that his room wasaway from Marshal and Elliot’s room since they had been fornicating up a storm ever since they met.
On the third floor, he turned left and went to the end of the hall. His room seemed kind of musty and abandoned since he hadn’t slept here since Tristan came. He wouldn’t be sleeping there tonight either, but he was going to get cleaned up and put on something nice. Nothing fancy but something clean and unwrinkled.
As he showered, Dooley realized he was essentially primping himself for a coyote. He laughed and kept right on going. If anyone thought his behavior odd—and this wouldn’t be the first time—he’d tell them he was trying a new kind of therapy. He’d call it visual stimulation with vocal enthusiasm. He not only planned to look good, but he was going to sound it, too. He was going to be positive. No matter what, he was going to find a way to help Tristan.

Chapter 6

If Tristan could put his lips together and blow, he would have whistled loud and long. Dooley looked scrumptious. Gone was the stubble and scruff that had surrounded his cheeks and chin and made him look careworn. With his face clean shaven and fresh duds, he looked so good Tristan wished he was human so he could…and there his mind clamped down. No, he wouldn’t be doing that ever again. Human or not. Falling in love and trusting someone with all that he was had backfired so spectacularly the last time he didn’t think he’d ever be game to try it again.

“Hey, Tristan. Have you been having fun with Elliot?”

Tristan nodded even though he thought Elliot was probably having more fun than he was.
“I found out he’s a computer programmer and his favorite color is purple.” Elliot looked up at Dooley and gasped. “Wow! You clean up well.”
“Thanks.” Dooley ran his hand down his shirt. “Too bad with the way a canine’s vision works he can’t see that I wore his favorite color.”
“He can’t?” Elliot turned his attention back to Tristan on the floor.
“Nope. To him it looks kind of gray or blue gray.”
“Aw. So he doesn’t know your eyes are lavender?”
“I guess he does now.” Dooley dropped down to the floor, pulled off his boots, then sat crosslegged. “What else did you learn about our patient?”
“No more liver.” Elliot made a face. “He says that the potassium bromide makes a terrible taste when mixed with liver.”
Dooley’s eyebrows rose. “How long did it take you to get that out of him?”
“Not too long. I guessed some, and then we’ve been using cards for the most-used words in the English language. Did you know that the, be, to, of, and and are the top five most-used words?”
“I didn’t know that. How did you?”
“Looked it up on the Internet. Although the word be includes are, is, were, and was. Oh, and I took him out, too.”
“Well, well. You’re turning out to be the best technician I think I’ve ever had.” Dooley patted Elliot on the back, but Tristan noticed it was strictly a friendly touch and nothing more. Besides, from the way Elliot talked about someone named Marshal, he was head over heels in love with the guy. Tristan wondered how many of the men on the ranch weregay, but he hadn’t yet figured out a way to ask Elliot that question.
“I’m going to go on in and see if Marshal is up.”
Dooley made a thoroughly lascivious face. “Oh, I imagine all you have to do is walk in the room and he’s up.”
“Yep, it’s my special skill.” Elliot waved to them both. “Night.”
Once he was gone, Tristan let out a sigh and dropped his head into his paws.
“Tired?”
He was so tired he let out a yip rather than lifting his head to nod.
“I talked to Doc tonight.”
Tristan instantly perked up. If they could get the seizures under control, he might be able to shift back into his human self. Right now he wanted that more than just about anything else. Moreover, he’d rather try just about any other drug than take more of the potassium bromide. It made him less sick in smaller doses, but it still altered the taste of everything. Thank God Elliot had told him about the liver. If he had to eat one more helping of that, he was going to cry.
“I’m really sorry about all of this.”
With his beard gone, Tristan could now see just how tormented Dooley was. He’d been sleeping on the cot every night and trying everything he could to help. If he wasn’t monitoring Tristan’s care, he was researching new ideas on the computer that he’d brought in. More often than not, Dooley fell asleep to the light of the laptop.
Tristan might have been tired, but he wasn’t too weary to give comfort where he could. Wriggling his way over, he settled next to Dooley and put his head in Dooley’s lap.
“Aw, thanks. I’m assuming that’s your way of telling me that you know I’m doing all I can.”
Tristan yipped.
“I swear I’ll figure something out. The others can just—” Dooley cut himself off, and for a moment, Tristan wondered if Dooley still thought he didn’t know what he was. Tristan did. Elliot mentioned it constantly so he wouldn’t forget. Tristan had almost wished he wouldn’t have. Maybe if he forgot he wouldn’t mind being stuck this way for the rest of his life. But that was scary, too, because he would have to rely utterly on someone else. Given Dooley’s twenty- four/seven devotion to him now, he wondered how long it would be before the demands of Tristan’s care wore thin. He couldn’t bear to watch Dooley grow exhausted and disinterested. Or worse, resentful.
Right then and there, Tristan promised himself that if he couldn’t shift back to his human self, he would find a way to end things. He couldn’t handle the thought of making anyone suffer because of his illness. That was why he’d been so careful to isolate himself. By keeping away from people, he was protecting them. Knowing that helped him on the nights when the loneliness became unbearable and he was tempted to reach out.
“I’ve been worried about how to tell you, or if I should tell you about what you are. I think you know, but I’ve been afraid to remind you because I don’t want to make things worse than they already are.” Dooley sighed and then started stroking over Tristan’s ears, rubbing the sweet spot behind them, making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “You’re a human who can shift into a coyote.” Dooley paused as if he expected Tristan to show some type of reaction, so he woofed softly. “Yeah. I thought I was keeping it from you, but then tonight when I came in I heard Elliot talking to you. I guess I forgot to tell him not to say anything.”
Tristan nestled his head in a little harder on Dooley’s lap. He felt badly that he was so worried about something that Tristan did indeed keep forgetting about. But what did it really matter? After another seizure, he’d just forget again, and maybe then Dooley would have that talk with Elliot. Just because he knew something now didn’t mean he’d know it an hour from now. That was the most frightening thing about his disease and why Tristan was so vigilant in maintaining his very strict schedule. Every time he had a seizure, the fear of forgetting things simply terrified him. To some it would seem a blessing, and others had remarked how could he worry if he didn’t know? But that was the problem. Ignorance wasn’t always bliss. Sometimes it could and did ruin relationships. Forgetting an important event or the time of a date became detrimental when it happened one time too many. And the excuse of the disease wore thin with even the most tolerant friend.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t remind you. I was afraid by doing so I would somehow make your situation worse.” Dooley continued with his soft strokes over Tristan’s head.
Tristan understood and even respected Dooley for what he’d done. He was trying to carry the burden himself. Tristan not only understood but commiserated. All his life he’d been determined to carry his own burden. It seemed that Dooley was the same way. He thought if the load were entirely on his shoulders he could carry it better than allowing anyone else to heft up even a single crumb. The commonality in their personalities was oddly endearing. As much as a part of him resented Dooley for trying to protect him, he also innately understood what Dooley was trying to do because Tristan did it himself.
Seeing himself in Dooley caused that dangerous feeling to once again take up residence in Tristan’s heart. He was starting to fall for him. Dooley was cute, kind, and compassionate, but he was also similar to Tristan himself in some ways. But even as the familiar emotions crept in, Tristan tried to push them away. He was enamored of Dooley for all the reasons he should resent him. Crushing on him was probably entirely normal given the circumstances they were enmeshed in now, but it simply couldn’t go anywhere.
Coyote or human, Tristan simply refused to be a burden to Dooley.

Chapter 7

“I was thinking there’s something we haven’t tried.” Dooley settled on the floor so that when he talked to Tristan he was close enough to comfort him and to get a feel for his emotional state. The last three weeks had been filled with more tragedy than Dooley thought he could endure. Nothing worked. Everything failed. Each day, Tristan’s overall health and his ability to endure continued to decline. Dooley had brought him back to health only to watch that same miraculous turnaround slowly crumble away. In desperation, he’d latched on to the most radical idea yet. But he also felt he didn’t have a choice. Each seizure was stronger, longer, and the frequency of occurrence was increasing at a terrifying rate. “It’s not without danger, but I think it’s worth a shot.”

Tristan tilted his head, which was his way of sayingI’m listening.

“One of the very first techniques used to control seizures was starvation.”
Tristan’s head dropped, and his furry brows lifted. Dooley wasn’t certain, but he thought that look was supposed to sayyou’ve got to be kidding me.
“I know, it sounds dreadful and ridiculous. And in some ways, it is. If you starve someone with epilepsy, their seizures will cease. However, eventually you have to feed them or the person will cease entirely.”
With his amazingly expressive doggy face, Tristan seemed to be listening but also seemed to be pulling away from Dooley. Not that Dooley couldn’t see why. No patient was going to be excited about being denied food for any length of time.
“The difference here is that it would be for a limited duration. If I can just keep you seizurefree for a week, I think you’d remember how to shift back.”
Now Tristan was leaning forward with more interest.
“I’m not talking about starving you to death or even close.” But when Dooley looked at him, he knew without trying something drastic Tristan was likely to seize to death. It was this or he was out of ideas. “I will be with you every step of the way. I swear I won’t leave your side.”
If Dooley didn’t know better, he’d swear that Tristan was almost in tears. He knew how devoted Dooley had been to his care. If he failed him now, Dooley thought a little piece of his heart would die with him. It wasn’t just about saving Tristan but about helping a fellow shifter and getting him to his rightful mate. More than anything, Dooley wanted to see Tristan happy with the man he was destined to be with. That was Dooley’s ultimate victory.
“If you agree to this, I’ll carefully monitor you and it’s about denying food, not water. It won’t be like how you were when you came here. During that trial, if you had had water, I think you would have ultimately shifted back to human.”
Tristan nodded.
“It will still be unpleasant as hell because you’ll be awake. As you go deeper into starvation, I will start to wean you off the drugs.”
Again, Tristan nodded. Not in agreement or consent but just that he was listening and grasping the fundamentals of Dooley’s radical treatment.
“I won’t do this unless you’re completely okay with it. And we can stop at any time.” Dooley waited breathlessly for Tristan’s answer. “Take the night, think it over—”
Tristan woofed and then nodded.
“Is that a yes?”
Tristan nodded, and when he looked up at Dooley he saw so much hope in his golden eyes he knew Tristan would do anything for a chance to get back to a more normal life.
“I promise you, if this doesn’t work, I won’t give up. I swear it. I will keep looking and keep trying to find another answer.” But the truth was if it didn’t work, Dooley was out of ideas.
He’d scoured the Internet. He’d called and e-mailed veterinarians around the country. He obviously couldn’t tell them all the details because of the unique nature of Tristan’s dual human and coyote form, but he was willing to try any drug therapy or diet therapy. Cost wasn’t an issue. Dooley had money in savings from when he’d worked in the clinic, and he would spend every last dime trying to heal Tristan. The way he figured it, he could always make more money, but he couldn’t make another Tristan.
“If you’re sure, we’ll start right now.” Dooley observed Tristan carefully. He wanted to make sure he understood exactly what he was getting into. Starvation was painful, and the only way it would work was if he had nothing but water. “To save you from yourself, we need to keep you in your cage.”
Tristan cocked his head.
“I know it sounds harsh, but when we’re a day or two into this you might be so hungry you’ll try to go after the chickens or other farm animals.”
Tristan shook his head as if to say he’d never do such a thing, but Dooley held firm.
“I’m sorry, but I have to make sure you get absolutely nothing but water. If we’re going to do this, I need to have it very strictly controlled.” By doing so, he would ensure the accuracy of his scientific trial. He would take copious and detailed notes. If ever such a situation should arise with another shifter, Dooley would have a better handle on what worked and what didn’t. He didn’t like using Tristan as a test case, but he also had no other option.
With a sigh of acknowledgement, Tristan entered his cage, circled once, and then settled in.
Closing and latching the gate felt awful. As certain as Tristan seemed to be that he could see this last-ditch effort through, he might change his mind when the hunger pangs became unbearable. Dooley wanted to give him an out. He wanted to give him a signal or something he could do like bark or yip as a way of saying he wanted to put an end to the treatment. But he didn’t. Telling Tristan he could stop the treatment at any time was the first lie Dooley had ever told him. The truth was that Dooley was determined to follow through. He was truly and honestly at the end of his rope. He had run out of conventional treatments long ago. He’d also used up the unconventional treatments. He was now down to utterly radical ideas that most sane people would probably never try. Since he was the first veterinarian to handle such a situation, he had the dubious honor of being the trailblazer.
In his desperation to find an answer, Dooley had even attempted to contact some of the other enclaves. According to Storm Hoffman’s parents, there were groups of coyote-shifters all over the world. The only problem was in finding them. Just how could Dooley go about locating secret groups? The shifters had gone underground to prevent their kind from being slaughtered by those who simply didn’t understand that the shifters were no threat to them. The men of the Rough River Ranch didn’t want to rule the world or enslave humanity or anything of the sort. All they wanted was essentially what they had, which was a safe place to live with enough land for them to be able to express all aspects of their physical selves.
In his efforts to locate other shifter groups, Dooley had tried contacting other ranches in North America that had a large and mostly male population. He figured there were probably good odds that he would find them clustered in a pack, just like they were here on the Triple R. So far, his efforts had been unsuccessful, but he’d sent the e - mails all the same. Even if he didn’t make contact with them now, he would still keep trying because eventually he would find them. Once he did, Dooley hoped they could exchange information on all kinds of things. But first and foremost in his mind was getting all the medical information he could. Doc was interested in contacting the other groups, too, because surely there were medical issues that they needed to be aware of when they were in their human form. Just like Dooley, Doc was keeping his own notes and running his own tests. Knowledge was power, and right now the group as a whole was flying blind.
Since it was late, Dooley took off his boots and jeans, then took up his place on the cot. After so many weeks, it was beginning to feel entirely normal to sleep out in the clinic within hearing distance of Tristan. When his seizures came they always started with the chomping of his teeth—a very distinctive sound that had Dooley on his feet with a prepared dose of drugs in less than two seconds. Tonight he had the drugs ready to go but at three-quarters of the usual dose. Weaning him off the powerful drugs would only make Tristan’s torment worse. But there was nothing to be done for that, either. For this to work, Tristan had to be free of food and anything that might interfere with his normal brain chemistry.
The longer Tristan remained seizure-free, the more likely he would be to remember how to shift back. Since he hadn’t shifted, Dooley didn’t know what it felt like, but the men who could shift described it as a curious itching warmth under the skin. The other reason he wanted Tristan free of the drugs was that Doc had superior medications that would work on him in human form. They knew Tristan’s drug regime from Elliot’s work with his tap-and-talk system. Through some creative medical wrangling, Doc had been able to lay his hands on everything Tristan was used to. As soon as he shifted over, they wanted to get him back on what had been working for him. Tristan hadn’t achieved total freedom from seizures, as most rarely did, but they were lighter, shorter, and far less frequent than what he’d been suffering in canine form.
Tristan sighed as he settled his head on his paws.
Dooley rolled over so they could see one another. “I have a good feeling about this.”
Tristan nodded as if to say he did, too, and then they closed their eyes and tried for sleep.
The night passed uneventfully, and Dooley was encouraged until a seizure hit shortly after Tristan woke up. It was a grand mal complete with bladder loss. Before Tristan had fully regained his memory, Dooley had him cleaned up and back in a cleaned cage. He and Elliot did this in the hopes of easing some of Tristan’s embarrassment. Dooley knew from the hangdog expression that Tristan would make that not being able to control his bodily functions during an episode bothered him intensely. Dooley had tried to reassure him it was normal and nothing to worry about, but when he put himself in Tristan’s shoes—or paws—he realized he would probably feel the exact same way.
Tristan started coming back to himself within an hour of the seizure. Dooley calmly repeated names and reminded him of where he was and what they were doing. He found if he talked to him a lot about anything Tristan seemed to come back to himself much sooner. Perhaps it was the cadence of his voice or the rhythm of his speech. Either way, Dooley didn’t mind. Also, getting close enough so that Tristan could smell him seemed to help him recall his memories more quickly and more fully.
It didn’t take long for the hunger to set in. From where Dooley was working on his computer, still searching for some drug or treatment idea he had yet to try, he heard Tristan’s stomach growling.
“I know it’s hard.” Dooley left his work where it was and came over to Tristan’s cage. “I can hear your belly rumbling.”
Tristan nodded and then settled in with a sigh. Dooley hoped it was a sign of his determination to see the procedure through. He was encouraged by the fact that Tristan hadn’t given up at the first instance of distress. He could only hope and pray that he would use this as a firm and solid toehold. Dooley and Elliot were both careful to wash up and brush their teeth after eating before they interacted with Tristan. The fewer reminders he had about food the better.
When Tristan accomplished staying food-free for the first twentyfour hours, Dooley thought that Tristan might think he had put the hardest hours behind him. He hadn’t. It would be on day two or three when the gnawing pain in his belly would become almost excruciating. Sure enough, on the third day, Tristan whined pitifully in his cage. Dooley reminded him of what they were doing and how important it was to keep going. After a long time of gentle whining contrasted by Dooley’s reassurances, Tristan reluctantly settled in.
“Try to sleep.” It was the only thing Dooley thought of to make the time go faster. He’d done everything he could think of to help Tristan pass the time, but he wasn’t interested in anything Dooley offered. Even Elliot couldn’t seem to keep him from thinking about food.
On day four, they had their first glimmer of hope. Tristan went a full twenty-four hours without a seizure. That was what helped Tristan to keep going. The longer he went without one, the more he remembered. Distracting him became easier, but then again he became weaker. Watching him deteriorate after rebuilding his health was devastating. Elliot had to remind Dooley why they were doing this because he was worried that Dooley would try to feed Tristan out of guilt. If not for Elliot’s keen emotional support, Dooley feared he would have given in.
All the other hands came by to lend their support to both Tristan and Dooley. Each of them spent time talking to Tristan and telling him stories so that he would have something to occupy his time, but Dooley also hoped if he smelled his alpha he might shift back to human. So far nothing had happened with that, but Dooley kept hoping. He also asked after each man left if Tristan had felt an attraction to one of the men, but so far he just shook his head in the negative. Not that Dooley had counted on that happening, just that it would be a nice side effect if it did.
Doc was on standby. If Tristan should shift, he had his human medication ready to go. As far as Dooley could see, they had prepared for every contingency. All they needed now was for Tristan to remember.
“Waiting is the hardest part.” Dooley settled in next to Tristan’s cage after another one of the men had come to keep him entertained. “No reaction to him?”
Tristan shook his head.
“Aw, that’s too bad. He’s a nice guy.” Dooley had run through most of the men on the ranch. The only ones who hadn’t been in were those cowboys working on the far end of the spread. There was also a handful who were out of town. “We’ll find your mate. I think it’s easier in human form. Or it seems to be. We think the betas track their mates in coyote form then shift to human once they’re close. It seems to work that way, but for all we know it could be something else.”
Dooley sighed and then realized that for all they knew Tristan could have been on his way to another shifter group and in his daze of seizures, dehydration, and starvation he’d inadvertently ended up here. But Dooley decided not to share his speculation with Tristan. If that was the case, then no amount of cowboy sniffing was going to get him to shift over. If he knew, that might only make Tristan more frustrated than he probably already was. Right now he needed his burden lessened, not increased.
“Now that you’ve got a full twenty-four hours under your belt without a seizure, I think it’s only a matter of time before you feel the need to shift.”
Tristan nodded in agreement, and then his stomach let out a rumble that damn near rattled the cage door.
“Yikes.” Dooley reached his finger through the slats and stroked Tristan’s paw. “Do you want to come out and sit on my lap?”
Tristan looked grateful for the offer. Dooley let him out and he curled up in his lap as Dooley sat cross-legged on the floor. He was big for a lap dog, but Dooley didn’t mind. Tristan needed the comforting, and Dooley was happy to provide as well as get some himself. Nothing could replace the comfort of contact even if it was human to canine.
“I know how you feel. It’s like sometimes you just want to curl up with someone.” Dooley knew that feeling intimately. So many nights he crawled into bed wishing he had someone there just to hold on to. He would pull his pillow into his arms, but it wasn’t the same as pulling something warm and alive into his embrace. As Tristan settled in, Dooley stroked his hands over his head and back, rubbing that little sweet spot behind his ears. It was as comforting to Tristan as it was to Dooley. Loneliness had just about eaten him alive. Having Tristan to care for had given him purpose.
“I think you’ve been good for me.”
Tristan gave Dooley a curious glance.
“Not that your illness has been good but that having you to care for has really made me realize my burdens are very light.”
With a low woof, Tristan asked a question.
“What burden did I have?”
Tristan nodded.
“Oh, well, I’ve been lonesome. I think everyone carries that particular bag from time to time. And I guess I started to think my lonely bag was heavier than everyone else’s. I suppose that’s common that we all think our problems are the worst. Sometimes people— myself included—can get so wrapped up in their personal problems they fail to see that there are lots of folks with much heavier bags.”
Tristan tilted his head back and forth, and Dooley took that to mean that he was ambivalent.
“Oh, sure. I think most of us believe our problems are the worst, but when we reach out to others, we realize what we’re hefting around isn’t that heavy at all.” Dooley drew a deep breath and slowly let it out as he stroked down Tristan’s body. “Helping you has given me something to focus on other than myself. If I could just understand what’s happening with you and this transformation that seems to not want to come…well, it’s like if I could fix that I could fix anything.”
Tristan made his laughing sound.
“I know, I know. It doesn’t work that way, but sometimes I like to think that way. Fixing someone else’s issues won’t have any effect on my own, but you see how it makes my burden seem lighter?”
At that, Tristan nodded agreement. Dooley thought it was a pretty common human thing to focus on others so the focus on the self became less significant.
“Probably all I’m doing is delaying dealing with my own issue, but it’s a help nonetheless because there really isn’t anything I can do to fix my problem. My mate will come in his own time, and I just have to wait.” Dooley thought about that notion. “I’ve worried sometimes that maybe I’m not one of them.”
Tristan flashed him a questioning look.
“That I’m not one of the shifters. Just because I’m on the Triple R doesn’t mean I am. Maybe I just ended up here for another reason.” It was a harsh thought, but just because someone set foot on the ranch didn’t mean they fully belonged here. “Since we know so little about our origins or our history, we don’t know much about how it all works. Maybe each group has some regular Joes to do specific jobs like veterinary care and doctoring, you know?”
With a tilt of his head, Tristan peered up at Dooley with what he could only call profound sadness. In his gaze, Dooley swore he saw Tristan’s fear that what had happened to him was no blessing, but he was even more distressed at the idea that Dooley wanted what he had and might not be granted the ability to shift.
“I know, to some it wouldn’t be a great thing, but to me, it would be a chance to become something I’ve always cared for. I love animals. I always have. Even as a little kid I wanted to help them live and grow up to be strong. Even though the animals I’ve worked with have all been domesticated, it was the wild animals I identified with.” Dooley leaned back against the cabinet. “I saw this look in their eyes—coyotes, wolves—that predatory wariness that I intuitively understood. Everything they did was about survival. They didn’t have all that stuff taking up space in their heads like we humans do. We worry over our appearance, money, and trends when they just focus on simply living another day.”
For a long moment, Dooley was silent as he stroked over Tristan’s ears.
“I think sometimes they have it easier, and then I think I do. Since I can’t decide, I just stopped thinking about it.”
When he looked down, he discovered that Tristan had fallen asleep. It was a small blessing. His belly rumbled another time or two, and then it seemed to fall into slumber just like the rest of him.
Dooley hoped Tristan shifted soon because they were getting too close to a time when Dooley would be compelled to pull the plug on their last hope.

Chapter 8

“I’m sorry, but we have to stop this.” Dooley offered out a bowl of his special mix of beef, rice, egg, and bacon, but Tristan had no desire to eat. When he refused to even smell the bowl, Dooley frowned. “Tristan, don’t be stubborn. We’ll find another way.”

But they wouldn’t, and he was too far gone to give up now. Tristan had no idea that eventually he would no longer feel hunger pangs. He wasn’t sure what day it was, but from the increasingly worried look on Dooley’s face when he continued to refuse to eat, the time had grown too long. Perhaps a week had gone by, or a length of time very close to that if not over by a day. It was difficult to tell when all the days blurred together. Tristan had survived by ten-minute increments. Each time the hunger became unbearable, he would tell himself to wait just another ten minutes. The technique had worked then, and it worked now. No matter how good the food smelled, Tristan continued to wait just another ten minutes.

“I’m not giving up, but this just isn’t the way to force the change.” Dooley pushed the food bowl at Tristan. For a split second, Tristan considered giving in and going on. Even if he was trapped in his canine form, he could be with Dooley until the seizures overwhelmed him, but he thought letting go now was the kinder choice.

After giving the bowl another incremental nudge, Dooley said, “Please don’t do this. I think if you died from what was my idea, I will die right along with you.”

Damn the man and his kind heart . Dooley’s pain almost made Tristan put his head down and eat, but at the last moment he pulled back. What would be worse than the pain Dooley would feel now would be sticking around until he’d grown even more attached and checking out then. Hurting him now would damage him less.

“Please.”

Tristan gave his head a final, definitive shake then went back to sleep. In his determination not to be a burden to Dooley, he’d rather end things here and now when he had a clear-cut chance than risk a long string of failures to cure him.

What stunned Tristan was that he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for Dooley. He had come to care for him more than words could ever say, and that was why he had to finish his long journey before the attachment between them deepened any further. Dooley was one of those men who would never give up. He’d told Tristan as much, yet even if he hadn’t stated his determination so plainly, Tristan would have seen the truth in his face anyway. Quitting was simply not in Dooley’s nature. He was a fighter, and he was more tenacious than anyone Tristan had ever met.

Now that the seizures had stopped, enough of the past returned to his mind for him to recall exactly what had happened and how he’d ended up here. The day he’d shifted started as any other day. Tristan had been working as usual. Banging in code was one of the main things he used to distance himself from himself. When he was at his desk programming, the rest of the world ceased to exist, himself included. Losing himself in work gave him a respite from worrying and planning his next move as far as his disease was concerned. Each time he had a breakthrough seizure, he worried that it would start speeding up and the meds wouldn’t work and he’d be back to square one again. The fear of that happening was so great his endocrinologist had prescribed him a drug to lessen his anxiety.

“Your worry in and of itself could be setting off the seizures. I know it’s difficult, but you’ve simply got to calm down.”
Rather than take the medication, Tristan had tried other methods first. Yoga, meditation, and simple massage had helped a great deal. However, his efforts to relax himself had led to his current problem. It was in the middle of a massage that he’d shifted. As to what prompted the change he didn’t know, but from what Dooley told him it was probably a scent. Most of the betas had traveled incredible distances when they got a whiff of their mates. Considering that Tristan had been in Montana, he either was a unique case or his mate wasn’t on this ranch. From what Dooley had said, there were enclaves of shifters all over the world. Perhaps his mate was in Montana, Canada, or perhaps Tristan had shifted because of something else entirely. They simply didn’t know. And it really didn’t matter. His mate couldn’t help him out of the mess he found himself in now.
All through the day and most of the night Dooley tried to tempt Tristan to eat, but he simply wouldn’t. In the steadfast tenacity department, he and Dooley were evenly matched. The only thing that bothered Tristan about his decision was the clear and obvious effect it had on Dooley. His frown of worry deepened. His posture slumped more and more. But what broke Tristan’s heart was the way Dooley seemed to just start dying right along with him.
Eventually, Elliot came, and he guessed what was going on very quickly. “Both of you are too stubborn. You have to eat, Tristan. This isn’t working, and we’re not going to let you starve to death no matter what scheme you’ve got stuck in your head.” When Dooley nodded vigorously, Elliot continued, “And you’re not going to join him in this hunger strike or suicide attempt or noble sacrifice or whatever in the hell Tristan thinks he’s doing. Both of you have to stop.”
Dooley stood. “I’m not joining him. I just haven’t had a chance to eat.”
“Right. Because you’ve been in here all day, afternoon, and now night trying to make Tristan do what you think is best.” Elliot flicked his fingers at Dooley. “Go into the house right now and eat. I’ll stay with Tristan.” Elliot eyed him critically. “We obviously need to talk.”
As soon as Dooley was gone, Elliot settled down on the floor, but rather than shove the food bowl at him he took it away and set it aside. “There. Now it’s not crammed in your face.” He took out his stack of index cards that had the most-common words and all the letters of the alphabet. “I’m going to get a straight answer out of you, or I swear, I will join Dooley in forcefeeding you.”
Eventually, Elliot worked the truth out of him.
“So you’ve decided that dying will be the best choice for you and Dooley?”
Tristan nodded but not with any happiness.
“You do realize that if you die at his hands, Dooley will never be the same?”
Tristan refused to answer. He kept his head still and gazed at Elliot.
“Oh, right. This will hurt him less now than what he’ll suffer if you stick around for a bit longer. Uhhuh. Sure.” Elliot rolled his eyes. “You really think it’s going to matter when it happens? Dooley is going to die inside if he can’t save you. But if you die from one of his treatments, he will never, ever recover.”
Tristan carefully tapped out that Dooley would suffer anyway.
“Not if he knew he’d done everything he could. By giving up on him and refusing to trust him to find another solution, you are quite literally destroying the man.” When Dooley entered, Elliot rose to his feet. In short, sharp terms he explained what Tristan was doing and why. While shaking his head, Elliot left them alone.
“So it’s like that, is it?” Dooley settled on the floor near where Tristan was lying. Since they were no longer keeping him away from food, they weren’t keeping him in his cage.
Tristan didn’t even nod he was so weak and tired.
“What if you do this and you die and a day later I find something else to try? Don’t you see that giving up now doesn’t make sense?”
Tristan understood what Dooley was saying since it was the same argument that Elliot had made, but Tristan wasn’t any more moved after a repeat performance than he had been during the opening show.
For a moment, he thought Dooley was going to get angry and yell, but he just slumped down into himself. He said nothing more. When Tristan wriggled across the floor and put his head in Dooley’s lap, he seemed to be trying to stop himself from touching him, but eventually, Dooley started stroking his hand from Tristan’s head to the middle of his back. Wordlessly, Dooley was still begging him not to quit, but Tristan had made up his mind. Nothing was going to make him change his game plan now.
They sat together for hours. Neither one of them moved. Dooley didn’t speak. Tristan thought that he was simply too overcome to talk or maybe he realized the futility of trying to convince Tristan. Whatever his reasons, the silence was a blessing. For the first time in his life, Tristan was at peace. His body had hurt so badly this morning from the lack of food that he thought he couldn’t go on, but now he felt nothing. Soon, very soon, the end would come and he’d just slip away. As cruel as it was, the idea of going to the great beyond in Dooley’s arms was immensely appealing. For a brief moment, he could pretend that he’d found a companion who would love him deeply and fully until the end of time.
“Okay, I want everyone in and as close to them as they can get.”
Tristan looked over and realized Elliot was leading a group of men over to him and Dooley.
“What are you up to, Elliot?” Dooley continued with his gentle strokes along Tristan’s body.
“I think I can help.” Elliot clasped Marshal’s hand. Tristan knew all the men of the ranch by name because they’d all come in to help him pass the time during his starvation treatment. “I think if we all shift around Tristan he might pick up a scent or something that will help him remember how to shift back.”
Tristan felt a faint glimmer of hope, but he quickly blew out the flame. How would other shifters transforming around him do anything for him? But Elliot seemed just as tenacious to try his idea as Dooley had been to try his.
“Thank you.” Dooley reached out and clasped Elliot’s and Marshal’s hands. “I think it’s a great idea.”
Tristan couldn’t help himself. He started crying. Dooley was honestly grateful for their efforts. He’d settled in to care for Tristan to ease him through to the end, but he was thrilled someone else had come up with another idea so he didn’t have to let go just yet. Tristan began to feel like a coward. All these men had given whatever they could to help him. They’d done so selflessly. The only thing they could possibly gain from helping him was the knowledge of a job well done. Giving for the sheer sake of giving was something Tristan hadn’t ever practiced or been on the receiving end of.
Until now.
As he and Dooley watched, the men stripped down and shifted into their coyote forms. They were beautiful. For the first time in a long time, Tristan didn’t feel so isolated. He couldn’t communicate with them telepathically, but he felt their care. And then the craziest thought came to him. Tristan swore he smelled their concern. When each pair shifted, they came over and surrounded him and Dooley. Feeling their closeness, their heat, and hearing the tap tap tap of their long nails on the tiled floor was somehow soothing.
“Do you feel anything?” Expectation transformed Dooley’s face from tragic pain to bright optimism.
Tristan didn’t want give him false hope, but he didn’t want to lie, either. Gently, almost hesitantly, he nodded. As each of the coyotes came over and rubbed their faces against him, he realized in their own way they were marking him as a member of their pack. It took Tristan a while to identify the feeling sweeping over him, but eventually he realized he truly felt like he belonged. He was welcomed and wanted for the sheer fact that they had decided he was one of them. Tristan didn’t think it would matter to them if his mate was from another shifter group. They received him with all the kindness and care that they could muster. And Dooley. Generous and courageous Dooley had embarked on multiple treatment plans without a thought to what the cost would be. Tristan knew he was spending his own money and almost all of his time in his quest to find a solution. All his efforts for a man he didn’t even know.
Something stirred in Tristan when he realized he was falling a little bit in love with Dooley. What made the feeling pure was that it wasn’t about looks, or money, or anything else so superficial. It was about the man himself. Dooley cared. It didn’t matter to him who Tristan belonged to. He was going to help, and that was that. Dooley had to be the most selfless man Tristan had ever met. In a timeless moment, Tristan was looking up at Dooley and then he was wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close, and kissing him.
Dooley’s lips were firm because he was smiling as Tristan kissed him, and then the feel of his lips changed as his smile faded. Joy turned to want in a slip-sliding way that was as easy to Tristan as putting on his favorite pair of slippers. Like a burst of flavor, Dooley’s unique essence flooded Tristan’s senses. His taste, smell, feel—all of it was so richly satisfying Tristan swore he would never let go. This was his mate. He knew it.
Terrified that the entire thing had been a dream, Tristan was hesitant to open his eyes, but he had to because Dooley pulled back. If not for a burning desire to see his face, Tristan would have happily kept his eyes closed and kept right on kissing Dooley forever.
As his lids lifted, Tristan triednot to gasp, but he failed. Dooley’s eyes were lavender. A soft lavender like a lilac just opening up in the spring. If he hadn’t been so close, the shock of the unusual color wouldn’t have been so strong. But he was, and it was simply breathtaking.
“Are you okay?” Dooley peered into Tristan’s face with even more care and concern now that he’d shifted back to human.
Everything came rushing back. Tristan knew that look. That was the look he’d dreaded seeing on his face. That was the look that mingled pity and fear. As the knowledge filled him, Tristan knew he simply couldn’t stay and watch that look turn into one of resentment.

Chapter 9

Dooley knew something was wrong as soon as Tristan pulled back. The lingering memory of his kiss was a taunting reminder of exactly how lonely he had been for the last few years. Somehow, having that far too brief taste had only made matters worse. He’d been given an all too short feel of how much Tristan would soothe his wants, his needs, and his very soul.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was just overcome.” Tristan looked away and covered himself modestly.
“It’s okay.” Dooley tried to keep his voice even, but it came out sounding strained anyway. Tristan had felt good in his arms, and the taste of his mouth had set off such a strong longing that for a split second Dooley thought perhaps Tristan was his mate. However, the compulsion to mate with him simply wasn’t there. Dooley wanted to protect him and care for him. From what the alphas had told him, the mating urge hit with a violence that was impossible to resist. Dooley wanted Tristan. There was no question of that. But he didn’t want him with a crazed, uncontrollable need.
Still, Dooley couldn’t deny that Tristan was so damn cute that he couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting him. His hair was dirty blond and tousled, his eyes were the same startling gold shade as they had been when he was a coyote, but what stood out so much to Dooley was the way that Tristan looked somewhat pixyish. He wasn’t able to pinpoint a specific pixie characteristic. Perhaps the turn of his cheek or the way he looked at Dooley with his eyes big and his head tilted down. It was a curiously strong yet submissive posture for Tristan to adopt. And then Dooley’s gaze went lower. Lust didn’t fill him, concern did. Tristan was so skinny it was almost heartbreaking.
“Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” Dooley stood and lifted Tristan with him. Tristan weighed probably one hundred pounds at best when he should weigh at least one hundred twenty.
Once on his feet, Tristan pulled away. “I can manage on my own.”
Stung, Dooley let go, but when Tristan faltered, he was there to hold him despite his resistance. Rather than berate him for his clear need to take care of himself, Dooley softened the fact that he obviously still needed help by saying, “Well, I’d feel better if you’d let me help you just a little bit longer.”
Tristan nodded as if he would accept assistance only to please Dooley, but Dooley didn’t care. If he could help Tristan, that was all he cared about.In many ways, he understood Tristan’s need to be fiercely independent. After a month and a half as a coyote and being completely dependent on Dooley and Elliot for everything, Tristan’s need to assert himself must be irresistible.
“Let’s get you covered up so I can get you into the house. You can use my shower while I find you something to wear. After that we’ll get you started with food and meds.”
For a moment, Tristan looked overwhelmed, but then something changed in his features almost like he’d put on a mask he was far too used to wearing. Determination? Resilience? Dooley couldn’t quite pin a name on what he saw in Tristan’s gaze, but it was something he admired and alternately feared. This was just the beginning of watching Tristan walk away. It was clear from his actions and words that in just this short amount of time Tristan wanted to make sure Dooley understood he wasn’t going to be coddled.
As Dooley left him leaning against the counter, he noticed that all around the clinic the shifters were returning to their human selves and getting dressed, but they seemed to staying back, almost as if they sensed the tension between him and Tristan. Out of all of them, only Elliot stayed.
“Come on, let me help you get this on.” Elliot held up a hospital johnny.
Dooley watched as Elliot eased the coverup over Tristan’s far too slender arms. As he pulled it around him, he wrapped the loose ends over one another like a robe. Thank God Elliot had remembered to get one. Dooley’s bright idea was to wrap him up in a towel.
“I know it goes on the other way, but we just want to get you over to the house.” Elliot flashed Dooley a quick glance then looked down at his bare feet. While Elliot continued to talk to Tristan, Dooley sat down and pulled his boots on. Now that Tristan had shifted back to human, Dooley suddenly felt completely unneeded. His expertise was with animals. The human animal constantly left him feeling inadequate.
“And I don’t want to hear any arguments about Dooley picking you up and carrying you over to the main house, got it?”
Dooley almost laughed. Elliot sounded as firm and unrelenting as his mate, Marshal. Dooley figured it was the addition of the stern got it, just like Marshal did when he was making a point that he wanted to sink in.
For a brief moment, it looked like Tristan was going to argue the issue, but he slowly closed his mouth and nodded. “I got it.”
“Good.” Elliot smiled. “Pick him up, Dooley. I’ve already called Doc. He’s on his way.”
Tristan’s body tightened up.
“Oh, don’t worry. Doc left the medications for you. You’re totally in charge of what you take and when.” Elliot patted Tristan’s hand. With them standing so close, Dooley became aware of how small Tristan really was. Elliot was exactly six feet tall, and Tristan was easily a foot shorter. At six three and two hundred pounds, Dooley felt like a giant. Maybe his sheer height put Tristan off. When Tristan was a four-legged creature, Dooley must have seemed huge, but even in human form he was massive compared to Tristan.
When Tristan’s shoulders lowered, it was clear he’d just relaxed a great deal. Knowing that he was in charge of his own medication gave him tremendous relief. Again, Dooley knew his time on the ranch was like a ticking clock hanging over them. As soon as Tristan was better, he was gone.
“Can you carry him, Dooley?” Elliot looked up at Dooley and so did Tristan.
For a timeless moment his gaze locked on Tristan’s. It was almost as if they were seeing one another for the first time, and in a way they were. Up to this moment they had only seen one another as coyote and human, but now that they were human to human, the dynamics had definitely changed. The attraction between them was as clear as a neon sign, but it simply wasn’t the powerful attraction of a beta and an alpha in dire need to mate. This was just as strong, just as profound, but it seemed to be much softer around the edges.
“Sure. No problem.” Dooley walked over, and as he did, Tristan’s head tilted back so that he could maintain eye contact. When Dooley was right in front of Tristan, he swore he felt a rush of strong emotions that bound him to the tiny beta, but he simply couldn’t be sure what was driving his passionate feelings. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”
Tristan nodded.
Dooley moved in and eased Tristan into his arms. Lifting him up took hardly any effort at all. In fact, he was so light that his malnourished state almost brought tears to Dooley’s eyes. His crazy plan had worked, but the cost had been borne exclusively by Tristan.
“Let’s get you settled in.” As Dooley walked, Elliot went before him, opening the doors.
“Where will I stay?”
“In my room.” Dooley wasn’t about to let him stay anywhere else.
“With you in it?” Tristan’s voice was so soft it was barely a whisper against Dooley’s neck.
Gulping down a great swallow of air, Dooley said, “Yeah. That’s where I sleep when I’m not sleeping out in the clinic.”
“So…” Tristan’s voice trailed off, and when he finished his thought his voice was so low it was almost a whisper. “We’ll still be sharing a room?”
Dooley wasn’t sure what Tristan was getting at, so he turned the question back on him. “Would you rather sleep alone?”
“I don’t—I really hadn’t—I’m not sure.” Tristan looked away suddenly, as if he’d become terribly interested in the yard Dooley carried him across. His gaze wandered over to the chicken coop and the attached yard where the chickens ran about clucking and pecking at bugs in the clumps of grass.
Quietly, so Elliot couldn’t hear, Dooley whispered, “I’m not going to jump you, Tristan. I’m not that kind of man. I am going to have you sleep in my bed, and I’ll still be sleeping in that cot. I just planned on moving it up to my room. Okay?”
“Oh. Okay.”
Dooley couldn’t decide if that sounded like Tristan was disappointed or relieved. Perhaps a mixture of both. He wanted to settle him down and hash everything out, but they had a bundle of far more pressing matters. Getting the man cleaned up and fed took top priority. When they stepped into the farmhouse, Dooley immediately took him up to his bedroom.
“I don’t think you’re quite strong enough for a shower, so I’m going to draw you a bath. Okay?” For now, Dooley settled him on his bed and tried not to think that he looked perfect there with his tousled hair and gold eyes against the brown bedspread. What made him wince was how little of a dent Tristan’s slight body made in the surface of the mattress.
“I can”—one harsh look from Dooley made him change his tune in midsentence—“that sounds fine.”
“Good.” Dooley entered the attached bathroom, rinsed the tub, and then started to fill it with slightly hot water. He left a bit of a gap at the top because he wanted Tristan to set it to the perfect temperature for him. “Everything’s…ready.”
Tristan was on his bed asleep. With his eyes closed, the dark hollows below his eyes and cheeks stood out even more prominently. As much as Dooley wanted to let him sleep, he simply couldn’t. He had to eat, and he had to take his medication. Gently, Dooley opened the hospital johnny, which woke Tristan up. Slowly, his eyes blinked open and for a moment Dooley swore he saw a welcoming warmness in Tristan’s eyes. As swiftly as it came it vanished as mistrust ate it away and turned Tristan’s features harsh.
Before he could speak, Dooley cut him off. “I know you can do this yourself. I know that, Tristan. But I want to help you. Indulge me.”
“I’ve been indulging your need to baby me for, what? A month? I think I’ve indulged you quite enough.” Tristan pushed Dooley’s hands away but not with any real strength. When he stood, he wavered but gritted his teeth and managed to stay upright as he walked toward the bathroom. “I am more than capable of bathing myself.”
“Sure.”
At the bathroom doorway, Tristan clutched the wall with one hand and looked back at Dooley. He didn’t say anything, but he looked almost sad. And then he seemed to shake off his feelings and continued on into the bathroom. Tristan closed the door and then locked it.
“Please don’t lock the door.” Dooley wouldn’t demand he not do so, but if push came to shove and he thought anything was wrong, he was more than willing to kick the door down.
For a moment he wondered if Tristan had heard him, but then there was a snick as he unlocked the door. Dooley breathed a sigh of relief. He’d really rather not have to smash in the door since it was old and lovingly painted by whoever used to live here. Curlicues and faded blooms adorned the oval design, matching the brown and beige tones in his room.
“I’m going to go downstairs and get you some clothing. As soon as you’re done and dressed, we’ll get you fed and start up with your medications.” Dooley waited for an answer but heard nothing, so he asked, “Okay?”
“Sounds good.”
Dooley left, and halfway down the stairs, he stopped. He hadn’t thought this far ahead, but now that he was at the end of his cure for Tristan, he belatedly realized he might very well be at the end of his relationship with Tristan. Letting go of an animal once he’d nursed it back to health was surprisingly difficult, but Dooley had learned how to cope because he knew that was part of his job. He took them in, healed them up, and then let them go. Given the volume of creatures he cared for, he simply couldn’t keep them all or even a small percentage of them. Dooley had danced this particular dance well over a hundred times. He was intimately familiar with the steps by now, so why did everything feel so raw this time? It was more than the fact that Tristan was a shifter. It was something about letting him go. Healing Tristan only to watch him walk away felt like Dooley was sending a part of his own heart out the door.
“I’ll get over it.” He told himself this as he continued on down the stairs.
“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.” At the bottom of the staircase, Elliot stood with a pile of clothing in his arms. “Did you really think everything would be solved once you got him to shift back to human?”
“As stupid as this sounds, yes. I did. I thought…” But Dooley didn’t finish because even in the confines of his mind it sounded stupid. How could he have thought that Tristan would be so grateful he’d practically leap into his arms and they’d live happily ever after? Too, he’d held on to the idea that Tristan was his mate and once they got a good sniff of one another they would be mystically bound and Dooley wouldn’t have to face another lonely night. Apparently, he’d been fooling himself big time.
“You thought you’d have a fairy-tale ending?” Elliot asked, his tone kind and not condescending.
“Something like that.” Dooley tried to brush by Elliot, but he stopped him with a hand to his arm.
“You’re a true romantic, you know?” Elliot pushed the pile of clothing into Dooley’s arms. “Take these up to him, and I’ll have Cassidy make him up a plate. And don’t worry. I know the drill on what he should and shouldn’t have while he’s recovering.”
“Good man.” Dooley reached out and cupped Elliot’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything. I never would have gotten through the last month if not for your help.”
Elliot’s smile revealed his strong, white teeth. “You’re more than welcome. I’ve learned a lot, and now I’m pretty sure that becoming a veterinarian simply isn’t right for me.”
Dooley was honestly stunned. “But you were really great. Like I said, you were of immense help to me.”
“I’m glad. Really. But I think I might be a little too emotional for such work.”
It was exactly what Dooley had told Marshal. Now, though, after seeing him in action, Dooley had come to think that Elliot was the perfect blend of care, concern, and conviction. He knew when to console and when to let go.
“Don’t look so upset, Dooley.” Elliot let out a long sigh. “This whole thing with Tristan was what changed my mind. I’m aware it’s changed yours, too. About me, that is. I know you didn’t think I was cut out for this and now you think I am. While I appreciate that, I still have to go with my heart. I know that eventually what you do would simply eat me up.”
“I’ll miss working with you.” And that was straight from his heart. Elliot had brought a calmness to Dooley’s work that he’d never had before.
“I’ll always be around to pitch in and help out, but I simply don’t think I’m strong enough to do what you do every day.”
Dooley was starting to wonder if he could actually keep going. For some insane reason, he thought if he had Tristan to share a bed with every night he could keep doing what he was doing, but now he didn’t think he could face another day. Although in the same breath as that thought was another that he had nothing else to do with himself.
“You’re just wiped out. This has been round-the-clock care for over six weeks. Don’t throw in the towel until you’ve given yourself time to recover. Got it?”
“You know you sound exactly like Marshal when you say that?”
“I know.” Elliot grinned. “He thinks it’s just about the cutest thing in the world that I like to copy him.”
“It is.” Dooley turned and went back up the stairs. He hesitated at his own door because he wasn’t sure if Tristan was out of the tub. Not that seeing him in the buff was a problem, at least not on Dooley’s end, but Tristan seemed to be very modest and Dooley didn’t want him to think he was some kind of pervert. He knocked lightly at the door, but when he didn’t get an answer, he entered and found that the bathroom door was still closed.
Dooley went over to that door and tapped with his knuckle. “Tristan?”
“Don’t come in!” Tristan sounded utterly panicked.
“I’m not.” Dooley put the pile of clothing by the door. “I’m setting some clothing here right by the door for you when you’re done. Elliot also gave you a toothbrush and some other things.”
“I’m not going to be staying.”
Silence descended, and Dooley swore he heard his heart break. Rather than answer back, he simply stood there, trying to understand what he’d done to push Tristan away. If nothing else, he thought they would always be friends, but it sounded like as soon as he got his feet under him he was gone.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” Tristan called to the still-closed door.
For some reason, that didn’t help Dooley one damn bit. Wasn’t that what someone said when they wanted to break up without hurting the other person? It really was him, but Tristan didn’t want him to think that.
“Dooley?”
“I’m here.”
“You’re not going to try to make me stay, are you?”
Dooley considered. The Triple R was fifty miles from the nearest town. If he wanted to, he could probably keep Tristan here. Not that doing so would solve anything. Besides, Marshal wouldn’t sanction what amounted to false imprisonment. He’d simply have one of the other cowboys take Tristan into the tiny town of Scorpion, Utah. Or maybe one of the other men could get Tristan to change his mind and stay. Dooley slumped a little more when he thought about Tristan staying and Dooley having to see him in someone else’s arms. That would be worse than watching him walk away altogether. Just the thought of Tristan with another man had Dooley clenching his fists so hard he dug his nails into his palms.
“So, are you?”
The idea of keeping Tristan was so appealing Dooley couldn’t stop thinking about how he would go about imprisoning him. He could tell everyone he was too weak to come downstairs. That would get Dooley at least a week alone in his room with Tristan. However, he might start screaming for help. Dooley thought he could just kiss him silent. When he remembered the feel of Tristan against him and the taste of his mouth, he thought he might be willing to risk some serious jail time for just a few more kisses like that. Not that he would make Tristan do anything he didn’t want to do, just that Dooley had a feeling if he pressed just a little he could make Tristan forget for a moment how much he wanted to go.
“So, are you going to try to make me stay?”

Chapter 10

When Dooley didn’t answer right away, the most curious feeling washed through Tristan. It was a shiver of dread blending with a quiver of arousal. Why in the world would he find that kind of macho crap appealing? He’d always relied exclusively on himself. Having Dooley keep him captive went against everything he believed in, and yet the very idea was also immensely appealing. Dooley would keep him in his bed and nurse him back to health. Once he’d restored him, he would then learn every sweet spot on his body. In short order, Dooley would have him writhing in ecstasy. Each brush of his lips or fingertips would spark another series of wildfires over Tristan’s virginal form.

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” Dooley’s voice sounded strained and somewhat unbelievable through the wooden door.

A flash of guilt made Tristan blurt, “Thank you for all that you’ve donefor me. I really do appreciate everything.”
“I know.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“No.”
But something about his voice wasn’t quite right. “You don’t sound okay.”
“I’m sad, Tristan.”
“Sad? Why? Your treatment was a success.”
“I know. That’s not what I’m sad about.” After a long pause, Dooley finished, “I don’t want you to go.”
It was said very simply, clearly, and yet his words had dozens of undercurrents. Tristan heard the wistful hunger in his voice. When he’d shifted to human and looked up, he’d wanted to kiss Dooley so desperately he’d simply given in to the impulse. Dooley had tasted so good that even now the memory of that intimacy caused Tristan’s cock to harden. It was then that he noticed everything was different.
“Oh, my God!”
“What?” Panic caused Dooley’s voice to practically rise an octave.
Tristan knew if he didn’t say something Dooley was going to come in, so he blurted, “All my hair is gone!”
“Oh, that.” Dooley chuckled lightly. “That’s part of what happens when a beta shifts. I’m sorry, I thought either me or Elliot would have told you that by now.”
“You might have and I just forgot.” Tristan looked down at his utterly hairless genitals. He had to admit it was a curious look, but what was so astonishing was the newfound sensitivity. When he stroked his hand over his cock and balls the pleasure was almost excruciatingly intense. “I’m also tan.”
“Yep. A smooth, allover tan, no hair below your nose, and your teeth are now perfect.”
“Perfect how?”
“No fillings.”
“How weird.”
“Yeah. It’s like a do-over for your dental hygiene.”
“Is there anything else I should be aware of?” Tristan finished up his bath while he and Dooley talked through the door. He was shocked at how much weight he had lost since he’d shifted. He’d never been a very heavy man, but now he was so thin that without the tan he’d look utterly dreadful. The notion gave him pause. Maybe his idea that Dooley was interested in him was totally in his head. Dooley had to have seen how gaunt he was because his attentive gaze had missed nothing when Tristan was a coyote. There was simply no way he’d been attracted to him in this state. His little fantasy about Dooley keeping him captive was certainly made up in his mind. Dooley had even told him flat out that he wasn’t going to jump him. At the time, Tristan had thought that Dooley was just trying to get him to calm down, but now he was thinking Dooley was trying to get him to realize he wasn’t interested in the nicest way he could. But what Tristan couldn’t quite figure out was why the idea of Dooley not wanting him made him so dreadfully sad even though he planned on leaving as soon as he could.
“I think you know all the changes that happen to the betas now. If there’s anything else you’re not sure about, just ask me. Or Elliot.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you ready to come out? Elliot says that Cassidy has got something for you to eat and Doc is downstairs. He’s going to be caring for you from here on out.”
Panic made Tristan sit up in the tub so fast he sloshed water over the sides. He didn’t want anyone to care for him except for Dooley. Just the thought of having to get comfortable with another man had Tristan’s anxiety level rising so fast he knew he would have had a seizure but for the starvation treatment.
“Tristan? You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m almost ready to get out.” Tristan finished up and then tried to stand, but he was simply too weak. He’d used all his energy getting into the tub, and now he couldn’t get out. For a long moment, he tried to figure out a way to help himself, but he realized all he had to do was ask Dooley to help him. Tristan knew he wouldn’t hesitate and he also wouldn’t be weirded out by doing so. It was only on Tristan’s end that the bizarre feelings would come into play. He looked down at his emaciated body and sighed. No, he wasn’t going to be luring Dooley in as his mate. Besides, from what he remembered Elliot saying, when a beta and alpha pair came together the pheromones were explosive and neither of them could walk away. When he’d smelled Dooley, he’d been attracted to him b ut not in any overwhelming way.
That moment when he’d looked up into Dooley’s eyes and discovered the beautiful lavender shade he’d been overcome by a feeling of gratitude. He had felt a bit of lust, but it hadn’t been overwhelming like what Elliot had described his feeling for Marshal had been. That was so powerful he’d not been able to stop touching the stoic rancher and then teasing him to the point he’d almost pushed the man too far. For a moment, Tristan allowed himself the fantasy of him having that amazing power over Dooley. What would it be like to make Dooley so wild with lust he simply couldn’t stop once they started kissing?
“Dooley?”
“Yeah?”
“I need some help.”
“What can I do?”
“I need you to help me out of the tub.”
After a beat of silence, the bathroom door came open. Dooley looked in and right at Tristan’s face. He seemed determined to hold his gaze there and not go any lower. Somehow his resolve to keep things firmly on the friend level impressed and frustrated Tristan. He couldn’t understand himself. He swore that he didn’t want to get entangled with Dooley, and yet he did. Before he did anything else, he should probably make up his own mind about exactly what he wanted from Dooley.
“I’m going to help you stand and then have you step out so we can get you dried off.”
Just like when he was a coyote, Dooley spoke softly and used exceedingly gentle touches. He was careful not to grasp Tristan too tightly or move him around too quickly. Each time he did something he explained what he was doing and why. Keeping up his constant patter seemed to help to ease Tristan’s shyness and keep Dooley focused on the task at hand.
“There. Now I’m going to take you in and settle you on the bed. I think it will be easier to get you dressed there.”
Tristan was pulled up into Dooley’s powerful arms. For a moment, he allowed himself the indulgence of a fantasy that Dooley was taking him to his bed to claim him. All Tristan had to do was reach up and touch him in an intimate way and he could turn his fantasy to reality. One touch and Dooly would turn his head. Their gazes would connect, lock, and his lips would descend…
But Tristan didn’t take that step because he wasn’t fully certain he wanted to. He wanted Dooley. Of that fact he was positive, but everything else that would happen afterthey mated…well, that was the part that Tristan wasn’t so sure of. Intellectually, he knew Dooley wasn’t like the other man who had hurt him so terribly. Tristan knew that Dooley wouldn’t have ever been so cutting the way Maury had. However, Tristan’s main concern with Dooley was the fact that he might feel obligated to stay with him even if the epilepsy became too much for him to bear. Just imagining the resentment turning his gaze cold and distant was a powerful motivator for him to keep his hands to himself.
Since he did nothing to entice him, Tristan found himself on Dooley’s massive bed again, just as alone this time as he’d been the last time. At first he thought the bed was ridiculously large, but considering how big Dooley was, it was probably the best size for him. Why, if Tristan wanted to sleep here with him, it was the perfect bed for the two of them. Dooley would take up most of it, and Tristan could fill in the rest. Or maybe he’d sleep curled up against Dooley so he could feel his heat and strength all night. For a moment, Tristan let himself imagine a night in Dooley’s bed with Dooley under the covers with him.
At first, Dooley would try to keep to his side and keep his hands to himself, but Tristan would make the beta mating noise that Elliot had shared with him. He would whimper softly at the back of his throat until he pushed Dooley too far, and then…Tristan wasn’t so certain what would happen next. Would Dooley claim him in the heat of the moment? Or would he claim him with tender restraint? What would it be like to have such a big man above him? And the most pressing question of all—would he be able to handle taking Dooley within his body? Inadvertently, he shivered at the notion. Something about Dooley taking his time to ease his cock within his snug heat had Tristan quivering with far more anticipation than dread.
As Dooley helped him dress, his soft chatter as soothing as his gentle touches, Tristan found himself looking at the fly of Dooley’s jeans so that he could speculate on what lay behind that fabric.
“It’s a little big, but I think it will fit just fine.”
Startled, Tristan jerked his gaze up to Dooley’s face. His guileless look was entirely out of place with what he’d just said. And then he realized Dooley had not just read his mind.
Holding up a dark brown shirt, Dooley said, “If it’s way too big we’ll see if we can find you something else.”
Tristan shook his head, relieved that they were not talking about the same thing. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“I think it will look good on you.” Dooley helped him slip his arms into the sleeves, and then he buttoned it up.
When Tristan noticed Dooley’s hands were shaking, he wondered what was wrong, but when he asked, all he got in answer was a curt, “Nothing.”
Tristan placed his hand on Dooley’s arm and tried again.
Swallowing hard, Dooley dropped his arm, dislodging Tristan’s hand. “I really—it’s just—I like you. And you smell really, really good right now.”
Stunned, Tristan lifted his hand and sniffed himself, but he smelled like the soap Dooley had given him.
“Come on, let’s go get you something to eat.”
As Dooley leaned over to pick him up, the most incredible scent filled Tristan’s nose. Now he knew exactly what Elliot had been talking about. Dooley smelled delicious. Tristan wanted to kiss him, lick him, and taste every part of his body including his cock. He wanted to know what his mate tasted like everywhere. When their gazes met and locked, Tristan realized Dooley felt the exact same thing. Nothing in the world could hide the spark of animal lust that flared between them. Just as quickly as the emotion flared, Dooley crushed it by physically pulling back.
“I’m going to go get Elliot. Wait here.”
Dooley was gone before Tristan could even get his mouth open. If he had been able to speak, he would have begged him not to go. If he had the strength, Tristan would have run after him, but given how weak he was, Tristan knew he wasn’t likely to make it halfway across the floor before he face-planted. So instead, he stayed where he was on the bed, confused and frustrated.
Eventually, Elliot entered, wrapped his arm around Tristan’s waist, brought him to his feet, and then helped him down the stairs. Tristan knew the trip would have been a hell of a lot more fun in Dooley’s arms. But then again, given what had just happened, they never would have made it downstairs.
“Is Dooley okay?”
“He’s fine.” Elliot smiled as he helped Tristan sit at a battered wooden table.
“Where did he go?”
“I think he went out to get his cot.”
“Oh.” Tristan didn’t want Dooley to sleep in that thing another night. Not after six long weeks of cramming his big, beautiful body into the far too tiny space. There was enough room in his bed for the both of them.
“I don’t think Dooley can take much more.” Elliot put a plate in front of Tristan then handed him a fork.
“Take much more of what?” Tristan ate slowly. He and Dooley had already done a careful refeeding with him as a coyote, and he’d explained this wouldn’t be any different. Every two hours he would eat a small amount of food so that his system wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Tristan had wanted to start with medications first, but Dooley said after a lengthy starvation diet he would have to begin with food or his stomach might reject the medications outright. Doc had concurred. After each minimeal, Tristan would then consume a minidose of meds so that, as he built up his strength, he would once again build up his plasma levels of the drug cocktail he’d been taking before he’d shifted.
“I don’t think Dooley can take much more of resisting you.” Elliot frowned then added, “If you want him, then be straight with him. If he gets hurt again, I just don’t think he’ll be able to recover.”
“Someone hurt him?” The idea of Dooley in love with another man, even some nameless, faceless individual, enraged Tristan. It was crazy since he didn’t own Dooley, and even if the man was his mate, he wouldn’t be a jealous, possessive jerk. At least he didn’t think so, but then again, since he’d only had the one experience, Tristan wasn’t really sure what kind of a partner he would be to Dooley.
“Life did, I think.”
“I think he’s my mate.”
Elliot’s wicked green eyes widened, and he settled across the table from Tristan. “Really? What happened?”
“He was helping me after my bath, and when he got close, I just smelled him and everything in my body started zinging. I’ve never felt anything like that.” Just thinking about it now made him aware of how hard his cock was pressing up against his borrowed sweatpants. If he stood up right now, Elliot would have a very clear indication of his arousal.
“That would explain why Dooley was so upset.” When Elliot glanced toward the main hallway that lead to the front door, Tristan assumed that was where Dooley had gone.
“He doesn’t want me?”
“God, no! I mean, that’s not what I’m trying to say at all.” Elliot shook his head hard. “I think he wants you something fierce, but he doesn’t want to hurt you.”
“He’s a violent man?”
“Are you crazy? You’ve been around him for over a month. How could you think that?”
“Well, I was a coyote. I have no idea how he is with his lovers.”
Elliot gave Tristan a look that was as amused as it was baffled. “Are you serious? Dooley hasn’t had a string of lovers. Not from what I understand. He’s afraid of hurting you because of your current malnourished state.”
Tristan remembered how gaunt he’d looked in the tub, and everything made sense.
“Think of how difficult it must be for Dooley.” Elliot sighed and then rose to get himself a glass of water. “One sniff of you and all his hormones go into overdrive, yet the idea of claiming you after your physically exhausting trial would be against everything he believes in.”
“He wants to protect me.” Tristan finished his small meal then swallowed his meds.
“Yep.” Elliot settled back at the table.
“But I don’t want to stay.” The words were out before Tristan had a chance to really think about them. It was almost as if the notion was so deep in his head he felt he couldn’t stop now or he’d lose face.
“You what?”
“I have to get back to my life.”
“And you don’t think your life is here with Dooley?” Elliot seemed stunned that Tristan was even thinking of walking away from Dooley. Elliot tried to convince Tristan to stay and work things out, but he had already made up his mind.
“I have to get back to caring for myself.” Again, Tristan repeated the words as if by rote. He wanted so much more now, but again he didn’t want to burden Dooley. “Mates or not, it isn’t fair to saddle him with a man who will be more hindrance than help.”

Chapter 11

“I don’t think I can wait much longer.” Dooley was in Marshal’s office. Marshal was at his desk, the place where usually Vance sat to do the accounts, but today Marshal was trying to hammer out a deal wherein if anything happened to him the ranch would stay in the hands of the men who were living here. Marshal’s fear was that something would happen and if there weren’t legal papers in place, his coyote-shifting brothers would be scattered to the wind and vulnerable to those who feared their kind. So far they’d only heard about those who hunted them, but Marshal was a man who tried to plan for everything.

“I think if you’re careful, you can claim him now.” Marshal had set the paperwork aside to talk things out with Dooley, but Dooley could tell he wanted to get back to it and get it over with. Marshal clearly didn’t like to think of such eventualities, but it was a necessary evil. “It’s been two weeks. You keeping yourself at literal and emotional distance is starting to drive everyone a little nuts.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s difficult for the unmated alphas to smell Tristan’s claiming scent, but I just can’t bear the idea of hurting him.” Dooley had seen Tristan after his bath, and his visible ribs chilled his ardor better than a hundred cold showers. Also, since he was flinging off sex pheromones at an alarming rate, they’d decided that for now, only mated pairs should be in the main house. The weather had cooperated by being warm enough for the other ranch hands to set up tables outside so they could eat without having the alluring scent of Tristan making them crazy. So far their solution had worked, but eventually, Dooley and Tristan had to mate or Tristan had to leave.

“It’s that, but also all the mated pairs are fornicating like crazy.” A crooked grin slanted across Marshal’s face. “Not that I’m complaining about that, just that I think I’m wearing Elliot out.”

“Sorry.”

“Just take a look at Tristan today.” Marshal placed his hand on the paperwork for the third time. “I think he’s ready.”
“What if…” Dooley trailed off because he wasn’t sure how to explain to Marshal that he didn’t think Tristan wanted to stay on the Rough River Ranch. From what he’d said to Elliot and the comments Tristan had made as soon as he shifted back to human, Tristan was nothing if not fiercely independent. He didn’t want to accept help from anyone. He’d only accepted Dooley’s help while he was a canine because he’d had no other choice. Now that Tristan did have a choice, he wanted to do everything for himself.
“What if what?” Marshal tilted his head to the side.
“Nothing.” Dooley had a feeling that Marshal already knew what his worries were. He imagined there was very little that Elliot didn’t share with his mate.
“You’re afraid you’ll claim him and then he’ll want to walk away?”
“Something like that.” From some of the struggles Dooley had witnessed with the other pairs, he knew that the claiming was simply the first step. Happily ever after wasn’t guaranteed for any of them. So far all the mates had worked things out, but that didn’t mean he and Tristan would. What would happen to them if they couldn’t compromise? Would each of them eventually find another mate, or would they be destined to be alone? After all the long, lonely waiting, Dooley would rather suffer a little bit now by not claiming Tristan than suffer worse by claiming him and then having to let him go.
“You’ll work it out.” Marshal sounded as confident as Dooley sounded dubious.
“I’m sure we will.” Dooley rose to his feet then left Marshal alone with his paperwork. One thing he’d come to appreciate and understand was that he was truly glad he didn’t have to deal with the headaches that Marshal did. Owning the ranch would seem like a great thing but for the fact that all the burdens were heaped upon Marshal’s shoulders. Sure, he had lots of men to help with chores and the like, but the final decision on the big issues rested squarely on Marshal’s big shoulders. Still, Marshal was happy with his life. It seemed as soon as he’d worked things out with Elliot, his satisfaction level had risen exponentially.
Dooley wanted to do the same with Tristan, but he was so afraid of what might happen he wasn’t too willing to take a risk until he was a little more certain of the outcome. Besides, it wasn’t as if the decision to avoid a commitment was entirely up to him. So far, Tristan hadn’t seemed to mind that they were keeping away from one another. Dooley kept his cot in the veterinarian clinic so that Tristan could have his room. Night after night, the thought of Tristan alone in his big bed had Dooley slipping his hand under the covers and stroking himself to climax. Sadly, the pleasure was fleeting. He only gained a momentary relief from the relentless urge to claim his mate. No wonder Jake Tanner had been such a bastard while he was trying to resist his mate, Nathan. It was extremely difficult as everything, simply everything, reminded Dooley of Tristan.
About the only good thing so far today was that he’d managed to get into the house without seeing his mate. All he had to do now was get out before Tristan came downstairs. As Dooley entered the side hall that would take him to the kitchen and then to the main hall, he heard Cassidy talking with someone. Since Marshal was already up, Dooley assumed Cassidy was talking to Elliot or Storm. He was wrong. However, Dooley didn’t realize his mistake until it was far too late to turn around.
As soon as Dooley walked into the kitchen, he smelled Tristan at the table. His gaze turned automatically to him, and then every single cell in Dooley’s body screamed out for him to end their torment. Tristan looked night and day better from what he’d looked like two weeks ago. The darkened hollows under his eyes and cheekbones were replaced with a healthy glow that was so becoming Dooley wanted to sweep him up into his arms and simply celebrate the fact that he was well. But Dooley didn’t. He shoved his hands into his front pockets and clenched them into fists. Since his body didn’t know what his mind was determined to accomplish, his cock hardened and his balls ached just looking at Tristan and smelling the impossibly alluring fragrance of his need. At the moment, Dooley was convinced if he actually touched Tristan he’d simply explode from longing denied.
“Hi.” Tristan’s voice was quiet, and even though he’d only said one word, Dooley swore he heard the low whimper of the beta mating call like an undertone to his speech.
“Hi.” Dooley barely managed to say one word. Even with his herculean efforts to keep his tone even, his voice was rough with longing.
“How are you?” Tristan placed his elbows on the table and leaned toward Dooley.
“I’m good. You?” Dooley felt idiotic for having such an inane conversation, but he didn’t know what else to do. Thank God there was a solid oak table between them, or Dooley would have yanked Tristan up into his arms and put an end to their torment.
“I’m okay. I think all the food and meds are going good. Or well.” Tristan’s brow furrowed. “Or whatever the right word is there.” Tristan blushed.
Every nerve in Dooley’s body went crazy. He wanted to grasp the end of the table and wrench it out of his way so he could get his hands on Tristan. He didn’t want to just talk to him. He wanted to touch him and reassure himself that he was indeed fine. It seemed to Dooley that his eyes simply couldn’t gather as much information as his hands could.
“Oh, God, you two!” Cassidy waved his hand in front of his face. “Either go do the nasty or leave my kitchen. Your hormones are making me crave Storm so desperately right now I don’t think I can focus on making breakfast for everyone else.”
“I’m sorry.” Dooley’s and Tristan’s voices overlapped as they both darted guilty glances toward Cassidy. Like moths to a flame, their attentions returned to one another.
“Have you decided yet?” Dooley realized the time had come. Tristan had to choose because Dooley simply wasn’t walking away this time until he knew. They either had to take the plunge and give a full-fledged relationship a go or they had to put a period and move on.
Tristan didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t know what Dooley was talking about because he lowered his gaze to the table and softly said, “I haven’t.”
Gritting his teeth, not from anger but from the continued torture of holding himself back, Dooley nodded. “I understand that this is difficultfor you, but I can’t keep doing this, Tristan. I am a strong man, but I can only resist temptation for so long.”
Tristan lifted his gaze. “What does that mean?”
“I need an answer, or I’ll decide for myself.” Dooley knew he shouldn’t have said what he’d said, but he simply couldn’t allow Tristan to take all the time in the world. “I’m not trying to bully you, but this isn’t fair to either of us or the men around us.”
Tristan’s eyes widened, and he lowered his gaze back to his plate of food. “How is this hurting anyone but us?”
“They smell you.” Dooley pointed out the kitchen window that looked into the backyard. There were half a dozen men at the table, and every single one of them was looking into the window and right at Tristan.
Tristan looked over, gasped, and then looked up at Dooley as if to reassure himself that Dooley was still there.
“Don’t worry. All of them are good men who would never come after you. Moreover, I wouldn’t let them even if they got the notion burrowing into their brains somehow.” Dooley stepped back a bit from the table to ease his own torment. “But push comes to shove and I find resisting you is getting ever more impossible.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll go today.”
The words hit Dooley like a brick to the face. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear at all. He thought if he nudged Tristan just a little he might give in and make the call that Dooley had so desperately wanted him to make. Tristan should have jumped up from the table and thrown himself into Dooley’s waiting arms. That was the ending theyshould have. But no. The fact that Tristan hadn’t chosen to stay and become eternal mates was harsh, but Dooley had to respect his decision even if he didn’t like it. Rarely did he give ultimatums because he knew he had to abide by the other person’s decision, but in this case, push had definitely come to shove.
“Fine. I’ll get someone to drive you into town.”
Tristan nodded, but he kept his gaze on his plate. Dooley noticed he’d stopped eating and didn’t seem to want to continue.
“I’ll also make sure you have enough money to get back to…wherever it is that you want to go.” Dooley realized Tristan had never told him where he was from. Maybe that was for the best. Dooley didn’t quite trust himself not to go after him and try to lure him back.
Up came Tristan’s head, and Dooley swore he was on the verge of saying that he could take care of himself, but he cut himself off and instead mumbled, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll pay you back once I get everything situated.”
“It’s not necessary.”
Tristan met his gaze and glared. “I pay my own way.”
“I’m not doubting that, but I don’t want you to worry about this.”
“Right. Because the worry might give me a seizure.”
“No.” Dooley had no idea why Tristan was so suddenly hostile. “It’s because I know you probably have a lot to take care of in getting your life back where you want it.” Without me, Dooley thought, but didn’t say those cutting words. “I know your landlord was understanding and held your apartment for you and that your employer also understood. Why is the fact that I’m understanding, too, so bothersome to you?”
“Because I thought you wanted me to stay here!” Tristan blurted the words out with all the drama of a teenager. Clearly mortified by his own reaction, Tristan shot to his feet and then tore up the stairs, slamming Dooley’s bedroom door behind him.
“You poor, poor thing.” Cassidy came over and placed a comforting hand on Dooley’s back. “I don’t envy you this struggle.”
“Thanks.” Dooley knew Cassidy had a trial when he’d been courting Storm, so if anyone got the agony Dooley was in, that man was Cassidy. “I think he wants me almost desperately but he’s so afraid of being a burden he won’t take the risk. It’s just crazy.”
“Have you told him he would never be a burden to you?”
“I have, but he just blows it off like I’m just saying it but don’t really mean it.”
“Maybe you can find a way to show him.” Cassidy returned to the multiple pans on the stovetop. Watching him stir, flip, and season breakfast for the men at the outside table made Dooley wonder if he could ever show as much love as Cassidy did with his cooking.
As Dooley walked down the main hall, he considered what Cassidy had said. He thought he had shown Tristan that he wasn’t a burden, but maybe Tristan didn’t see it that way. It seemed if he cared for him too much, Tristan became resistant to his help, but not helping him at all would eat at Dooley until he went crazy. Sadly, before they could find a way to balance both their needs, Tristan was going to leave.
At the end of the long hall, Dooley got a snootfull of Tristan’s delectable scent, and rather than exiting out the main door of the farmhouse, Dooley found himself making a sharp turn and climbing the stairs two at a time. When he came to his closed door, he didn’t knock, hesitate, or anything. He grasped the doorknob in his hands and wrenched the door open.
Startled, Tristan leapt up from the bed and glared at him. “What are you doing?”
“Claiming what’s mine.”

Chapter 12

Tristan swallowed hard as he watched Dooley close and lock the bedroom door. Mating hunger had dilated his pupils, making most of the soft lavender color disappear. In this charged moment, Dooley’s eyes glittered dark and hungry. Rather than the infinitely patient veterinarian, Dooley had become a lusty man with nothing but mating on his mind. Frankly, Tristan couldn’t decide which was more attractive.

“I thought you said the decision was up to me?” Tristan judged the distance from where he was standing to the door. Even if he managed to run at top speed, there was no way he was going to get past Dooley and out that door. What made him shake just a little was the fact that Tristan wasn’t so certain he wanted to. Maybe all along he’d kept delaying his decision because he wanted Dooley to do exactly what he was doing now. There was something romantic and sexy about him being so overcome he would simply take what he wanted, something that Tristan wanted to give anyway. But if he should leave afterward…

“I thought the decision was up to you.” Dooley slowly lifted his T - shirt over his head, revealing a chest rippling with powerful muscles. “But I guess I changed my mind.”

“So you’re just going to take me?” Tristan couldn’t believe how stunning Dooley looked in this moment with his mating need altering him from a mild-mannered veterinarian into a predatory lover.

“No. You’re going to come to me.” Rather than advancing,

Dooley stood where he was.
“I won’t.” Tristan straightened to help himself feel as determined as he wished he was, but he failed miserably. Just looking at Dooley made him hunger so greatly for him he could barely maintain his hold on staying vertical.

“Then we’ll stand here until someone comes to take you away.” “Take me away?”
“You wanted to go home, right?” Dooley eased his boots off then

his socks. Now he wore only a pair of faded jeans that clung to him in such way that they outlined every muscle he had and revealed he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“I…yeah. Home.” Tristan couldn’t speak after he drew in a deep breath. Dooley’s pheromones must be literally pouring off him for them to reach Tristan all the way across the room. He became hard so suddenly he was dizzy.

“Home.” Dooley looked around at his bedroom as if he hadn’t seen it in ages, and Tristan realized he hadn’t. They had bunked down together out in the vet clinic, and now Dooley was sleeping out there alone so Tristan could recover in his bed. He’d never felt so insufferably lonely in his life.

Looking at the neatly made bed caused Tristan to feel guilty. “I do want you, you know.”
“I know.”
“But I just don’t think—”
“Spare me.” Dooley lifted his hand as he cut Tristan off. “I’ve heard your excuses.”
“They’re not excuses,” Tristan defended. “They’re reasons.”
“Right.” Dooley took a step into the room. “I’ve still heard every single one of them ten times over.”
Tristan found himself taking a step closer to Dooley against his will. For the life of him, he felt like his body wanted to run toward Dooley but his mind wanted to go and lock himself away in the bathroom. So Tristan stood still, trapped between his body and brain.
What broke the seemingly fairly matched and endless battle was when Dooley started easing the buttons apart on his faded jeans. Now Tristan’s body and brain were in complete agreement that they should stay right where they were so they could see what Dooley looked like naked.
As if he knew he had a riveted audience, Dooley took his sweet time easing the buttons apart until he revealed a long, thick, and wickedly beautiful cock rising out of dark brown hair. Without even realizing he was doing it, Tristan licked his lips. Watching the faded jeans slide down Dooley’s strong legs was the most powerful visual poetry he’d ever witnessed. Each incremental reveal of more of his mate’s body drew Tristan closer until he realized that he was an arm’s length away. As Dooley’s jeans pooled around his ankles, Tristan found himself plastered against Dooley.
“I want you.”
“I want you, too.” Dooley grasped Tristan’s buttocks, one in each hand, and then lifted him up while pressing him close.
Rather than feeling trapped or smothered, Tristan felt nothing but lust. His mate was dominant, but it was a relaxed kind of power he held. Rather than raw and brutal, it was softly subtle and more of him compelling Tristan than forcing him. As Tristan deepened the kiss by opening his mouth and sliding his tongue against his mate’s, he felt a new hunger overtake him. He wanted to feel all of Dooley. Tristan didn’t want anything to come between, especially not all the pesky clothing he was wearing.
As if he’d read his mind, Dooley started to ease Tristan’s sweats down, murmuring in his quiet way about what he was doing and why. It was then that Tristan realized this was how Dooley showed his love. He didn’t rush or demand to have everything his way. No. What Dooley did was compel cooperation by his kind and caring words. For the first time, Tristan allowed himself to relax and experience everything his mate wanted to share with him. This wasn’t a race, and Dooley would never force him. This was love, and he didn’t have to resist enjoying everything because they hadn’t worked out all the details of their future. If Tristan could just trust a little that Dooley really was the right man for him, they would work everything out. All he had to do was give in and let go.
“I’m sorry.”
“About what?” Dooley pulled Tristan’s shirt off and tossed it aside.
“For resisting you for so long.”
“I’m not angry.”
“I know.” Tristan stood on his tiptoes to kiss Dooley, but he was so tall Dooley had to lean over for him to make contact. When that contact came, he practically swooned. Each kiss pushed the mating need higher. Tristan figured one more kiss would propel both of them over the edge into a delicious madness.
“You’re making that whimper, and it’s driving me mad.” Dooley scooped Tristan up into his arms and then took him to the bed. He laid him down so gently that Tristan found another way that Dooley showed rather than told him that he loved him. As aroused as he was, Dooley was still infinitely gentle. Perhaps someday they would have fast and furious encounters but not for a long while.
“You do realize that just as I make a needy cry you make a growl of hunger?”
“I’m growling at you?”
Tristan nodded. “Not loud, and not aggressively, but you most definitely are asserting your dominance.”
Stroking his way from Tristan’s earlobe to the edge of his nipple, Dooley let out a long, soft sigh. “Do you have any idea how incredibly beautiful you are?”
“When you look at me like that I do.”
“Then I’ll keep on looking at you like this so you never forget.” Dooley lowered his lips to the tip of Tristan’s nipple and licked across, pebbling the flesh and sending a shiver across every bit of Tristan’s skin. Inadvertently, he arched up, and his hip made contact with the tip of Dooley’s cock.
“You’re so hard.” Tristan reached between their bodies and took Dooley’s cock into his hand. When Dooley caught his breath and then let it out in one sharp burst, Tristan felt an awesome power over his mate. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to slide his thumb over the tip, but when he did, pre-cum eased the way, and Dooley let out a low growl that deepened as Tristan increased the pace of his flicks. “I want to taste you.”
Dooley moved onto his back, allowing Tristan to kiss his way down his chest, working his way to his prick. Once he was near, Tristan teased his mate by breathing hot, moist breath against his needy flesh.
“Oh, God, Tristan. You have no idea how incredibly good that feels.”
Tristan grinned and looked up at Dooley’s face. “I have a feeling you’ll show me later.” And then he lowered his lips and sucked at the tip of Dooley’s prick. The sound his mate made filled Tristan with a mating urge that refused to be denied. Each swirl of his tongue over the tip drew more of his essence into Tristan’s mouth, increasing his ardor, multiplying his need until he felt he would go crazy.
“I need to taste you, too.” Dooley drew Tristan upward for a mind- bending kiss and then eased him onto his back. “I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you.”
Dooley kissed, licked, and stroked his way down along Tristan’s body until he reached his belly button. There he lingered, teasing all around the surprisingly sensitive skin. Tristan had never thought of that part of him as an erogenous zone, but Dooley changed his mind. Each loving caress he bestowed on Tristan’s belly seemed to migrate down to his cock. In short order, Dooley had Tristan writhing in passionate hunger. Just when he didn’t think he could take any more, Dooley went a bit lower and sucked Tristan’s cock into his mouth. The contact almost caused Tristan to explode.
“Ah, my sweet love.” Dooley grinned up as Tristan looked down. “You make the most arousing mating call.”
Ever so slowly, Dooley made his way between Tristan’s legs. Once there, he started stroking Tristan’s inner thighs. Now his touches seemed to bring awareness to the tight button between his buttocks. Each kiss, each caress, echoed along the now overly sensitive flesh of his bottom. Was this the secret to how Dooley’s massive prick would fit inside his tiny body? By increasing his longing and making him aware while making him crazy, Dooley would get Tristan so wild for him that there would be no pain. As Dooley lowered a saliva-slick finger and teased it around and around his puckered flesh, Tristan swore he was floating upward. In another few moments, he would hit the ceiling.
“Wait.” Dooley was up and off the bed, practically running toward his bureau. He didn’t fish through the items in the drawers so much as he madly tossed them around. Underwear and T-shirts went flying out like confetti only to land on the floor. Tristan had no idea what he was looking for, but watching his rather frantic search as his thick cock bobbed was quite endearing.
When Dooley held up a bottle triumphantly, Tristan applauded and asked, “What is it?”
“Lube.” Dooley stalked back toward the bed like a fearsome hunter who knew that his prey couldn’t escape.
Concerned that their love play would make a mess of the bedspread, Tristan pushed the coverings down until he was on the sheets.
“Good idea.” Dooley returned to his spot between Tristan’s legs, and now when he teased his finger around the exquisitely sensitive skin, his lubed finger slid without friction.
Relaxing back, Tristan lifted his hands above his head. He’d never felt so safe, so secure. This was how love should be. No rush, no pain, no fear. In Dooley’s capable hands, Tristan felt that he was not only handsome, but he truly felt like the most desirable man in the world.
“You are so tight and hot.” Dooley kissed and licked along Tristan’s cock as his finger continued that sweeping circle between his widely spread legs.
And then Tristan got the first taste of what being claimed would be like. Dooley pressed his finger against the ring of muscles and pushed. Ever so slowly, his finger entered. Rather than the pain and awkwardness he anticipated, Tristan felt nothing but pleasure. As much as he wanted to arch up, he didn’t want to dislodge Dooley from his lustful work. While teasing his finger slowly in and out, Dooley kissed his way along Tristan’s prick until he reached the very tip. Without any hair on his genitals, Tristan found every touch was magnified. He could almost feel each hair on Dooley’s cheeks and chin as he slid his face along his ultratender groin.
“Ah!” Tristan cried as Dooley sucked the very tip of his prick into his mouth at the same moment he plunged his finger fully deep. The dual sensations had him floating toward the ceiling again. He felt weightless. Each new touch added to the mix until it was as if Dooley played his body like a musical instrument. A touch here, a kiss there, a well-placed lick, a well-timed nibble, all of it had Tristan alternately melting and floating until he lost himself so completely in the moment he didn’t know where he ended and Dooley began. How in the world had he not known that love could be like this?
“I love you, Tristan.” Dooley looked up and right into his eyes. “I will always love you no matter where you go, what you do, or what happens between us. You’re my mate, but what I feel for you is far deeper than that.”
Tears filmed Tristan’s eyes because he knew Dooley spoke only the truth. “I—I—” But the words simply wouldn’t come.
“Don’t speak.” Dooley shook his head and smiled gently. “I can see the answer in your eyes. Nowrelax and let me claim you.”
As much as he wanted to tell Dooley everything in his heart, Tristan found he simply couldn’t form the words. Besides, Tristan realized that Dooley already knew. One thing about his mate was his ability to understand a complicated feeling without needing words of explanation. It was a skill that made him so good at veterinary care since the animals had no verbal way of communicating beyond yips and purrs. But Dooley was an astute reader of body language, and it seemed to Tristan that skill carried across species. One look into his eyes and Dooley delved deep into Tristan’s secret heart. Perhaps that was what had prompted him to come upstairs and into the room. Dooley knew that Tristan needed a strong push to do what he honestly wanted to do anyway. Had Dooley stayed below, Tristan might have left and he never would have taken the risk. He was glad now that Dooley had listened more to Tristan’s body language than what he’d said.
Tristan lost track of time as his mate teased his body into vibrating readiness. By the time Dooley rose over him and placed his cock against the tight entrance of his virginal bottom, Tristan was practically in tears with need. All his fears of their bodies not fitting together were gone. They meshed perfectly. As Dooley held himself up with his powerful arms, his prick eased inside. Each small plunge forward was followed by a complete stop so that Tristan’s body could become adjusted. Once he grew restless, Dooley advanced another incremental bit. It was a sublime form of erotic torture that had Tristan panting and whimpering.
“God, your sweet call is incredibly satisfying to my ego.”
“It is?”
“Oh, yeah.” Dooley grinned down at him. “It’s like this sound of need, this blatant call that says, ‘finish me. For the love of God, just finish me.’”
Tristan chuckled then sobered as his bottom tightened around Dooley’s prick, causing him to grit his teeth to keep steady. “Finish me.”
Dooley’s eyes opened wide then narrowed into predatory slits. “Don’t taunt the beast.”
“I’m ready. You’ve more than made me ready for you.” Tristan lifted his hips and wrapped his legs tighter around Dooley. “Finish me.”
Dooley drew a deep breath. While keeping up intense eye-to-eye contact, he sank down and down until his prick was fully buried in Tristan’s bottom. The moment of completion enthralled them both.
Tristan felt a flash of pain, but it was so fleeting it was gone long before he could react. As he looked up at his mate, all he felt was the pleasure of being claimed. From this moment onward, he would always see himself as part of a couple. Had he known physical love could be like this, he might have tried again to establish a relationship. However, even as the thought crossed his mind, Tristan had a feeling that the bliss he felt now was because of Dooley. And he was glad he had waited for him.
“Are you okay?” Dooley lowered his face so that he could kiss Tristan with such tenderness it was beyond sweet.
“I have never, ever felt better.”
A warm smile transformed Dooley into the most incredibly handsome man in the entire universe. “Me, too. Connecting to you is like winning the physical and emotional lottery.”
As much as Tristan wanted to ask about Dooley’s past lovers, he didn’t because he honestly didn’t need to. From the stunned look on Dooley’s face, it was clear that he’d never had sex like this before and they never would again. Not with anyone else. Tristan knew this magical blend of powerful sensations and overwhelming feelings would only happen with his mate. Maybe without knowing why, Tristan had waited for this because he knew this was what he deserved.
“I love you.” This time the words emerged effortlessly from Tristan’s mouth.
Rather than answer with words, Dooley smiled and then kissed Tristan in such a way that he seemed to be saying he loved him back a thousand times over.
Wrapped around Dooley’s powerful body, Tristan clung to him and flicked his hips, encouraging Dooley to thrust. He did, but only with slow, wanton care. It was as arousing as it was maddening.
“I can feel you want more.” Dooley lifted up just enough for them to see eye to eye. “But I want this to last. I’ve waited so long for you. I’ve hungered for you my whole life, so there’s no way I’m going to just mindlessly push toward orgasm.”
“But I want to feel that moment of ultimate bliss between us.” Tristan frowned. “God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I refuse to start anything between us, and now I’m in a rush to finish. I must be crazy.”
“Not crazy, but maybe a little bit worried.” Dooley kissed Tristan’s furrowed brow until he relaxed. “I think you’re concerned that if we don’t finish quickly something might come and tear us apart.”
To his surprise, Tristan realized Dooley was right. Almost as soon as he acknowledged his fear, it faded away.
“There. Now we can take our time and tease this out so that when we do go off—and trust me, we will—it will be the most epic climax of our lives.”
True to his word, Dooley continued with his steady progress up the mountain of oblivion. Each time Tristan thought he wouldn’t last one more moment, Dooley pulled him back just enough so that he could hang on another few minutes. By the time the afternoon sun began to slant sideways into the window and caress them on the bed, Tristan realized he simply couldn’t take anymore.
“Now. Please, Dooley.”
“Anything for you.” Dooley increased his pace so subtly that it was unnoticeable until Tristan was bouncing off the mattress and up into Dooley’s body. Each thrust drove Dooley’s prick just a bit deeper and tightened Tristan around him just a bit more.
“Oh. My. God!” Tristan felt the climax rolling from his extremities toward his cock. When the powerful energy had bundled low in his balls, it seemed to sparkle up and out in a sudden jet of pleasure that spurted between their bodies.
“My mate. My beautiful, incredible mate.” Dooley cupped his hands around Tristan’s face and kissed him as he thrust hard and deep then pinned him to the bed as his climax pumped deep inside, completing their physical bond.
Stunned by the power of his release, Tristan clung to him as Dooley’s orgasm prompted another one to rip through him. Like a circle, the power flung back onto Dooley, then back to Tristan until the base of Dooley’s cock swelled, locking him inside Tristan’s bottom.
“Do you feel that?” Tristan asked.
Unable to speak, Dooley nodded.
Each increase in girth pressed Dooley’s cock into a new spot within Tristan that increased his desire and deepened his attachment to his mate. The pleasure of their epic orgasm faded to the profound bliss of their knotted joining. Once Dooley’s prick had fully expanded, they were locked together and unable to move. Dooley wrapped his arms around Tristan, and together they rolled so that Dooley was on the bottom with Tristan draped over his chest.
“According to the other mated pairs, we’ll be stuck together like this for hours.”
And then, as if it had waited until the worst possible moment, Tristan felt the first prickles of a seizure rising up through his body.

Chapter 13

“No. Oh, no. Please not now!” Tristan was struggling in Dooley’s arms, but there was simply no way he was going anywhere.
From what the other mated pairs had told Dooley, once they were knotted together they would stay that way for at least eight to twenty hours. Each pair was slightly different, but so far the shortest time was one-third of a day.
“Relax.” Dooley cupped Tristan’s face into his hands. When Tristan looked at him, panic was eating away the bliss they had built between their bodies.
“I can’t! I’m going to have a seizure.”
“Then freaking out about the inevitable won’t change that, now will it?” Deliberately, Dooley kept his voice and demeanor calm.
Tristan gave Dooley a look like he was certifiably crazy.
“If it’s going to happen no matter what, then we have no choice butto accept it. Right?”
Seemingly against his will, Tristan nodded. “But—”
“No buts. What we’ll do is deal with it.”
“But your cock is stuck up my ass!”
Dooley couldn’t help it, he laughed. Something about the position they were in mixed with Tristan’s bald statement just tickled his funny bone. “Well, there you go.”
“What?”
“If my dick is stuck and you’re going to have a seizure, there’s not a whole hell of a lot we can do, right?”
“You’re crazy! You’re acting like it doesn’t matter.”
“Because it doesn’t.” Dooley slid his hand down to Tristan’s back where he started to make soothing circles. Every muscle in Tristan’s body was tense, so Dooley worked to relax him. He wasn’t an expert on epilepsy in humans or animals by any means, but common sense seemed to dictate that the more fear and tension directed toward the potential of seizures would only exacerbate the intensity of them.
“If I have a seizure now, I might hurt you.”
“I’ll hold on to you so that you don’t. Even at the height of your muscle spasms, I think I can hold you against my body so you don’t wrench my dick off.”
“Maybe. But, there are other things.”
“Like?” Dooley noticed that just getting Tristan talking about his fears worked to eliminate the bulk of them.
“Just things that happen to me that I have no control over.”
“I know you can’t control yourself, Tristan. I won’t get mad about you hitting me.” Dooley couldn’t understand what had Tristan so freaked out that his eyes were wide and his heart was beating a mile a minute.
“Oh, really?” he asked sarcastically. “Well, you’ll be singing a different tune if I pee on you!” Tristan looked away and clenched his eyes so tightly together it was almost like he was wishing himself the ability to vanish and materialize elsewhere.
“Oh, Tristan.” Now it all came together. Dooley should have realized that this one aspect of his disease bothered him more than all the rest. Probably more than everything else combined. Even as a canine, his embarrassment at losing control of his bladder had been evident. That was why Dooley and Elliot cleaned up without comment and made it clear they weren’t disgusted or annoyed. It wasn’t his fault, but Tristan seemed to think that it was. “I wouldn’t yell at you or get angry over that.”
“You say that now, but—”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Dooley kept up his soothing strokes over his mate’s back. Everything made sense in a blinding flash of insight. “You had a seizure and some jackass berated you for losing control of your bladder.”
Tristan’s clenched eyes leaked tears, confirming Dooley’s hypothesis.
“He was a fool.”
Rather than look at him, Tristan laid his weary head against Dooley’s chest.
“I would never, ever get angry with you for something you had no control over.” To Dooley, that would be like resenting a baby for crying. It was how they communicated and perfectly normal behavior. “I swear, I love you just as you are. I even love your disease.”
That comment brought Tristan’s head up and opened his eyes. His golden orbs glistened through his tears like secret treasures waiting to be polished. Eventually, Dooley would see nothing but trust and faith in Tristan’s eyes. He would do all he could to reach that ultimate goal.
“I know it sounds crazy, but if not for your epilepsy, you and I never would have met.”
“But that doesn’t make it a good thing.”
“Well, a disease isn’t bad or good, really. It just is. Proscribing a motive to a disease is futile because it doesn’t operate under a moral compass.”
“So I should love my epilepsy?”
“Well, maybe love is too strong a word. I think you should accept the fact that you have it.”
“I do.” Now a fierce, self-sufficient determination glittered in Tristan’s eyes.
“Oh, you are firmly committed to treating it and doing all you can to suppress it, but accept it? No. You hate it and blame it for everything that you don’t have and use it as a way to keep yourself from getting all the things that you want.” They were harsh words, but Dooley felt he had to bring the issue out into the open. Since they were locked together for the foreseeable future, this was the only time where Tristan couldn’t walk away. This belief of Tristan’s, that he was a burden and not worthy of love because of a disease, was utterly false. “Obviously, you’ve had a string of stupid people in your life who rather than embracing your disease rejected you because of it. That’s crazy. You aren’t your disease. You aren’t epilepsy with a dose of Tristan.” Dooley lifted Tristan’s face with tender care. “You’re a wonderful man named Tristan who happens to have epilepsy.”
For a long time, Tristanjust stared at him. “You really believe that.”
“I really do.”
“You know, you’re the only person who has ever felt that way.”
“Maybe. But you probably pushed the others away before they could tell you how they felt.”
Tristan frowned as he considered. “I thought I was protecting everyone when all I was doing was isolating myself.”
“But it doesn’t have to stay that way.”
“No?”
“No.” Dooley leaned up a bit so he could kiss Tristan softly against his lips. “You can change everything starting now. In fact, I think you’ve already taken a huge step by telling me your greatest fear.”
Tristan cocked one brow. “What’s my greatest fear?”
“Peeing on me.”
“Oh, that.” Tristan laughed. “I guess now after what you’ve said that does seem kinda lame.”
“No. Your feelings are what they are. I don’t judge them. But ask me what I think or feel rather than assuming.” Dooley brushed his hand over Tristan’s spiky hair, loving the way the strands stroked over his palm. “If you had a seizure and peed on me, I wouldn’t freak out because I’d know you didn’t do it on purpose. Anyone who would put you down or make fun of something you have no control over simply isn’t worth your time.”
“But it would make a mess.”
“That can be cleaned.” Dooley chuckled lightly. “Everything on this bed is washable. Even if it wasn’t, it can be replaced, but you? You are irreplaceable.”
Fat, sluggish tears rolled down Tristan’s cheek.
“Are you okay?” Dooley feared he’d been too straightforward. If he lacked for anything, he figured it was subtlety.
“I am honestly grateful for the first time in my life.” Tristan smiled through the tears. “You’ve made me see everything in a whole new light.”
“Good.” Dooley grinned. “And you’ll notice you didn’t have the seizure after all.”
Tristan’s eyes widened. “I didn’t, did I?”
“Nope.”
“How is that possible? Whenever I feel that weird itchy tingle in my brain, I know it’s coming.”
“Well, this is pure speculation, mind you, but maybe when you feel that you get so anxious that the seizure is inevitable you actually bring it on. By me talking to you, I distracted you from the feeling.”
Tristan considered. “I went from anxiety about a seizure to embarrassment of what might happen when it hit.”
“Do you think that’s what halted the seizure?”
“I think so.”
“Well,” Dooley said, cupping Tristan’s buttocks and pushing his hips down as he flicked his own up. “Whenever you need to be distracted, you just let me know. I can think of a hundred ways to sidetrack you.”
“I’ll bet.” Tristan’s eyes rolled back. “Do you have any idea how good that feels? You can’t thrust with us locked together, but it’s like you’re wiggling inside me. All these sensations start tightening me around you and—oh!”
Together they climaxed with Dooley releasing deep into Tristan as Tristan released between their bellies.
It was a long time before they stopped shivering.
“Wow.” Dooley took a deep breath. “You know, being told about something just isn’t the same as feeling it for myself.”
“So we’re going to stay together like this and have intermittent orgasms that will turn us into pudding?”
Dooley chuckled. “Yep. No one mentioned the pudding effect, but that’s exactly what it’s like. After that big jolt of pleasure, I feel like I’ve just about melted into the bed.”
“I haven’t ever felt this comfortable.”
“Have you ever…” But the rest of the question refused to come out of Dooley’s mouth.
“No.” Tristan lifted his head and looked right into Dooley’s eyes. “I was very close to falling in love with a man once, but he saw me have a seizure. When I lost my bladder, he was so repulsed he couldn’t even kiss me afterward.”
“Idiot.” Dooley felt a flash of irritation that quickly faded. “Well, his loss is my gain.”
“Have you ever…” Tristan didn’t finish his question, either.
“I have. Three times.” Dooley considered. “Wait. I mean I have had sex with three different men. Always after we really got to know one another and mostly with protection.”
Tristan tightened.
“I never went without a condom unless we were committed and monogamous.” God, he suddenly felt filthy compared to his untouched mate. “It wasn’t like I wasn’t in control of myself or anything like that.”
“I believe you, and I trust you.”
“Thank you.” Dooley relaxed. “I never did understand the guys who would have to get wasted before they could have sex. I always suspected they hadn’t really embraced their sexuality.”
“You’ve never had an issue being gay?”
“Oh, I’ve had my issues.” Dooley closed his eyes as the sunlight crept over their sprawled bodies. “But I never tried to run from them or drown them with drugs or drink.”
“I always knew I liked guys.”
“Yeah?” Dooley made lazy circles on Tristan’s back as Tristan made them on Dooley’s chest. He found he loved basking in the afterglow just as much as he did indulging in the physical aspects of love. After a rousing orgasm, the body mellowed and the emotions came loose.
“Oh, yeah. I remember being about twelve or so when I saw a boy on television with his shirt off. He wasn’t a big guy or anything. He was about maybe fourteen or fifteen, and there was just something about the way he looked wearing only a pair of swim trunks. I got my first erection.”
“And that’s how you knew?”
“Yep.” Tristan chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, just, I wish I had met you a long, long time ago.”
“Why?”
“You would have made so many things in my life easier, I think. At the time I was in the house alone, alternating glances between the boy on the television and the curious levitation going on in my pants.”
“You didn’t know what was going on?”
“No clue at all. I thought there was something wrong but for the fact that it felt good when it got hard. I figured if I’d broken it or something it would hurt. But it didn’t hurt like any kind of injury I’d ever had.”
“So what did you do?”
“I sat there looking at the guy in the show, and then I thought if I rubbed my dick a little it might make the swelling go down.”
Dooley couldn’t help himself, he snickered. “Better that than getting the bright idea to put ice on it.”
“Ouch!” Tristan winced. “Did you do that?”
“Me? God, no. I had older brothers who made sure I was well informed before I got my first boner. By the time it happened I was ready. The only thing was they couldn’t figure out why their girly magazines didn’t make the magic happen.”
“Do they mind that you’re gay?”
“Eh.” Dooley lifted his hand and then teeter-tottered it back and forth a few times. “It was difficult for my family at first because I think they thought I was going to be drastically different or something, but it turned out I was exactly the same as I always was. I just happened to like guys ina different way than I liked girls.”
“You have a good family.”
“You know, I do.” Dooley kissed the top of Tristan’s head. “I never really thought about it too much, but I guess we don’t unless something’s wrong.” After a moment of silence, Dooley asked about Tristan’s family, and Tristan told him about his father hitting him to beat the devil out of him. He then summed up his foster care experiences. By the time he was finished, Dooley was holding him so tight he almost squeaked. “It’s amazing to me you survived all of that. It’s a testament to your strength.”
“I guess I never thought of it that way.”
They were silent for a while as the sun slanted deeper into the room and washed over their bodies.
Tristan yawned. “Sorry. I swear I’m going to fall asleep.”
“Go for it.” Dooley yawned, too. “I think we’re right where we’re supposed to be.”
“I think so, too.”
“So you don’t want to leave anymore?”
“Not unless you’re coming with me.”
Warmth three times as powerful as the sun made Dooley smile so brightly he could probably have lit up a small city with the megawatts of his happiness. “I promise that we will always discuss things. I won’t be a mate who bosses you around.”
“No?” Tristan lifted his head and gave Dooley a lusty look. “What if I want you to give me alittle instruction?”
“Ooh, you dirty-minded man, you!” Dooley cupped Tristan’s buttocks and rocked their bodies to another soul-melting orgasm. “Just think of all the wonderful games we can play.”

Chapter 14

Thinking of all the bedroom games they could play —everything from sweet to kinky—made Tristan shiver with excitement. He felt free to tell Dooley anything. Even if he might worry about his reaction, he would be honest because that was the only way they would ever be able to work things out. Honesty and straightforwardness. Simply telling Dooley about the ensuing seizure and his fear of losing control over his body had magically chased the event away.

“Do you want to stay here on the Rough River Ranch?” Dooley asked, his big hands firmly cupped around Tristan’s buttocks.
“I do.”
“I’m glad.”
“I can really do my work from anywhere as long as I have an Internet connection. I would just need a computer and a place to work.” Tristan teased and kissed one nipple of Dooley’s then switched off to the other.“You’re very sensitive here.”
“Tell me about it.” Dooley chuckled. “I think there’s some kind of weird connection between my nipples and my cock because every time you tweak them I want to flick my hips and drill into you.”
“I know,” Tristan said, swiping his tongue over Dooley’s nipple again. “That’s why I keep doing it.” Right in the middle of the swipe, Dooley rocked up, seating himself more firmly into Tristan’s bottom. “I can’t tell you how good that feels.”
“I imagine, or I would hope, rather, that it feels as good for you as it does for me.”
“I think so.” Tristan tilted his head to the side. “Have you ever…” This time he didn’t finish his question because he wasn’t quite sure how to ask his mate something so strange.
“Have I ever done this in reverse?”
“Yeah.” Tristan liked how Dooley asked without using any vulgar terms.
“I toyed with the idea once, but I just wasn’t into it.” Dooley lifted his head off the pillow and peered down at Tristan. “Why? Do you want to do this to me?”
“No.” Tristan shook his head. He honestly had no desire to switch places. “I was just curious.”
“Oh.” Dooley relaxed against the pillows. “I like to be touched there, but when it came to penetration I just couldn’t get into it. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel really good, either.”
“It feels good to me.”
“I could tell.” Dooley stroked his hand over Tristan’s hair. “You had this look on your face like you’d just entered nirvana.”
“I did?”
“Oh, yeah.” Dooley grinned, clearly proud of himself for giving such intense pleasure to his mate. “Your eyes kinda rolled back and your chin came up and then your body went all soft and gooey.”
“I felt weightless, like I would just float up to the ceiling and stay there.”
“It’s a good thing I held you down.”
“Yes.” Tristan smiled at his mate. “If not for you I might have floated away.”
“And that would be a tragedy.”
“That it would.”
They dozed in the patch of sunshine. Every once in a while they woke, climaxed, then slept again. When the sun set and Tristan shivered against his mate, Dooley performed the most complex series of foot movements to get the bedcovers up and over their bodies.
“Gifted. That’s what you are.”
“Anything for my mate.” Dooley snuggled him under the covers. “Are you still sleepy?”
“A bit. I just feel lazy. I could get up, but why should I? I don’t need to go anywhere.”
“And there is the fact of my knot buried in your backside.”
“That, too.” Tristan grinned. “But even without that I like lazing the day away here with you.” A sudden thought tightened Tristan’s body.
“What?” Dooley asked.
“Shouldn’t we tell someone so they know what’s happening?”
“Oh, trust me. They know.” Dooley chuckled. “All the alpha males can smell that you’re now taken, and the mated pairs are probably fornicating like mad from the scent of our bonding pheromones. Once we’re finished with this part, the pheromones will lessen and things will go back to normal. Or normal for a bunch of shifters.”
“This part?” Tristan lifted his head and peered at his mate.
“Well, to be all official and fully bonded, wherein I receive from you the gracious gift of shifting, we have to fornicate as coyotes. After that we can mentally communicate as well.”
“Um, wait. If you don’t get this gift until we do that, then how can we do that unless you shift?”
“Ah. Well, it’s kinda complicated, but from what I was able to piece together I’ll shift once because of your need to mate with me, but if we don’t do it doggy style then I might lose my ability to shift ever again.”
“Really?”
“As far as we know.” Dooley hesitated for a moment. “Wait, are you saying you don’t want to do that?”
“No!” Tristan lifted up. “Not at all. I just wasn’t sure how it all works.” He looked down at his mate’s chest then back up. “I don’t care what form we’re in. I’ll always want to mate with you.”
A slow, dreamy smile worked its way across Dooley’s face. “Is that so?”
“Most definitely.”
“It’s totally mutual.”
“Good.” Tristan lifted up as Dooley leaned down. They kissed from almost chaste to passionate and from sweet to dirty. Tristan had no idea that two people could kiss in so many ways. The more he learned during his day in bed, the more he wanted to learn. Tristan was going to find every sensitive spot on Dooley’s body so that he could play him like an instrument just the way that Dooley had done to him.
Eventually, the knot at the base of Dooley’s cock lessened and they separated. Emotions swamped him, causing Tristan to cry and cling to Dooley.
“It’s okay. It’s totally normal.”
“Then why aren’t you crying?”
“Because I was expecting this.” Dooley kissed Tristan’s tears away. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t prepare you for the emotional shock of our separation.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” But Tristan felt a crazy fear that he would never be able to hang on to Dooley.
“Tell me what you’re feeling. Just like before, if we can talk about it, the power it has over you will be lessened.”
Dubious, but trusting, Tristan explained. “It’s like separating from you is just a prelude to what will come. Almost as if I’d better get used to this horrible emptiness now because I can only look forward to more.”
Dooley wrapped Tristan up in his strong arms and cuddled him against his chest. “I will never abandon you. You’re my mate, my lover, but mostly, you’re my friend.”
His words spiked fresh tears. “You are so sweet, you know that?”
“I am pretty awesome.” Dooley grinned as he wiped his tears away. “Are you hungry?”
“I should eat and take another dose of meds.”
“Wait here.”
Before Tristan knew it, Dooley was up, dressed in a robe, and then down the stairs. Tristan couldn’t see him, but it was like he had some kind of connection to his mate and he knew where he was relative to his own place in the house. Tristan wondered if this was normal between mated pairs or if he was still hyperaware due to their mating.
Dooley entered the room with a plate that was brimming with all kinds of treats. “Cassidy had it waiting for us.”
Tristan made a place on the bed for the plate, and then they settled in to eat their impromptu picnic. Once he was finished, Dooley took out his medication bottles from his pockets.
For the first time, Tristan took his medication without feeling like there was a spotlight on him. He wasn’t self-conscious of what he was doing or why. Dooley didn’t stare, but he didn’t look away. Frankly, Dooley seemed far more interested in what remained on the plate.
“Are you going to eat that?” Dooley pointed to the little fried wonton.
“It’s all yours.”
Dooley popped the crunchy treat into his mouth and made a robust yummy noise. “Damn. I swear I could eat a dozen of those things.”
“I’m sure if you asked Cassidy he’d gladly make them for you.”
“Yeah, but then I would have to keep eating and not move on to the next part.”
Up went Tristan’s eyebrows. “Next part?”
Dooley uttered a hearty bwhahaha as he pulled the covers down, exposing Tristan’s body.
“Wait! You haven’t told me—”
“I’m going to take you into the bathroom, clean you, and then I want to shift.”
“I thought that happened on its own?”
“Well, it seems to depend on the couple. But night is falling and the moon is rising.”
Tristan looked to the window and noticed the light was fading from the sky. “Is the moon full tonight?”
“Almost. It will be full tomorrow. But our kind doesn’t seem to be regulated by it in any way.”
“No?”
“Naw. That’s werewolves.”
For a moment, Tristan nodded, and then he realized Dooley was pulling his leg. Just as suddenly though, they looked at one another and openly wondered. If there were coyote-shifters in the world, then surely there were other human-animal hybrids.
“You know, we were told there were other enclaves of coyoteshifters, but I guess we never really thought about other animals.” Dooley peeled his robe off and tossed it on the end of the bed.
“I wonder how we would find out for sure?” Tristan slid out of bed and followed Dooley into the bathroom.
“I don’t know. I was trying to figure out a way to contact other coyoteshifters for any information they have on our kind.”
“For what?”
“At first I was looking for help with your epilepsy, but I’ll take anything, really. I am starting at ground zero with my care, and so is Doc. We would rather not have to reinvent the wheel, but it seems we might have to.” Dooley turned the water on and set the temperature. Once he had it set he climbed in and offered out his hand to Tristan. “If we could just find a way to share information with other groups, we might be able to head off problems before they start.”
“Knowledge is power.” Tristan firmly believed in the power of the Internet to share information. “Hey…” As he traded places with Dooley and let the warm water soak his head, he considered a way to fish for information on the Internet without attracting undue attention to themselves.
“Hey, what?” Dooley asked as they traded places again so he could rinse his shampoo while Tristan lathered up.
“How familiar are you with the Internet?”
“I know just enough about computers to be dangerous.”
Tristan chuckled. “Well, I think I could create a program that might be able to find others like us.”
“How?” Once the soap was gone, they switched back.
Tristan explained in what he thought were layman terms, but the look on Dooley’s face made him realize he was talking way over his head. “Sorry. To me it’s all so clear and basic.”
“No problem. It’s the same with my specialty. I know all these things that are super familiar to me but leave others scratching their heads.” Dooley started soaping himself up but changed his mind and started smoothing his hands all over Tristan. “If you think you’ve got something, then we’ll run it by Marshal.”
“Is he the boss of the group?” Tristan liked to understand the lines of authority.
“Well, he owns the ranch, but he’s not high commander or anything. I just like to let him know what’s going on. If everyone gives him a heads-up, then he could let us know if anyone else is duplicating our efforts or not.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“But I think you’re going to be the lone computer expert since everyone else might use the computers but I don’t think they know how to program them or anything.”
“Still, it couldn’t hurt to let him know.” Tristan was trying to keep his thoughts coherent, but that was difficult to do with Dooley’s probing fingers.
“Nope. It never hurts to share information.” Dooley leaned close and kissed Tristan. “Now, hold still while I give you a through once- over.” He tilted his head to the side and grinned. “Or maybe a thrice over.”
Gently washing hands turned more earnest, more probing, as Dooley ensured every bit of Tristan was perfectly clean.
“Are you sore at all?”
“No.” Tristan felt amazingly good. “I think I’m ready for more. Stay here.”
“We just got unlocked!” Dooley’s minor protest fell on deaf ears.
As soon as Tristan returned to the shower with the bottle of lube in his hand, Dooley was slicking up his cock and sliding it deep into Tristan’s ass. He did this with one long, slow stroke while holding Tristan’s hips in his big hands.
What started out slow turned fast and wicked as water pounded down on their grinding bodies. When Dooley got close to orgasm, he lifted Tristan up by wrapping his arms around him, and then braced him against his powerful thrusts. Dooley managed to ride him so wildly that Tristan came without a single stroke to his cock. His orgasm compelled Dooley’s.
It turned out to be the longest, hottest, and most arousing shower Tristan had ever taken in his life.

Chapter 15

“Can you do it without anyone being able to track it back to us?” Marshal looked over the paperwork that Tristan had put together. Dooley thought he would just discuss the idea with Marshal, but instead he’d created a thorough proposal with time lines and everything. They were remarkably detailed and spanned ten pages.

“Yes.” Tristan flipped to page three of his copy. “I would be using—”
Marshal cut him off with a lifted hand. “That’s okay. As long as they can’t find us, I’m trusting you to know how to make that happen since I don’t have a clue. My concern is that we want to make sure they’re not crazy or hunters or whatever.”
“But eventually we want to talk to them?” Dooley understood Marshal’s worry, but if this was just a way to assuage their curiosity, he wasn’t interested. “I really want to exchange information.”
“I hear you on that as I would like that, too. But I want to make sure they are…hell, what’s the word I’m looking for? Normal? Not crazy? My fear is that some groups might think this is some religious thing and go all goofy about it or the opposite type who’s filled with selfloathing.”
“I understand.” Tristan nodded. “It’s hard to predict what kind of a reaction someone might have to discovering this hidden talent.”
Dooley had never thought of that.
“You seem surprised.” Tristan folded his report back to the first page.
“I guess I just assumed that anyone who got this ability would be happy to have it, but now I can see where that simply might not be the case.”
“It was Elliot who gave me the idea. He said some people might see this ability as more curse than blessing. We’re lucky because we’re out here on a huge ranch with lots of land where we can actually express that part of ourselves in our natural environment. I would think it wouldbe far more difficult to do that in the city.”
Dooley tried to picture a coyote in Los Angeles and figured it wouldn’t survive long. It was unlikely most people would think a coyote was a dog, not when a shifter coyote like Marshal tipped the scales at one hundred fifty pounds. Even if they did believe he was a run-of-the-mill canine, they would be afraid of him anyway just because of his sheer size.
“I think the groups we most want to find are the groups like us. They would have a large amount of land that was relatively isolated. They would have an operation that would provide them with a good cover story.” Tristan set his report on Marshal’s desk. “Running a large cattle ranch demands a large population of workers. The fact that all of them are male wouldn’t really raise any eyebrows.”
“Except for the brows of the local homophobic law.” Marshal rolled his eyes so sharply Dooley was surprised they didn’t fall right out of his head.
At Tristan’s curious look, Dooley explained. “Judd Kingsley is the sheriff of Scorpion County. He has a real issue with the ranch, Marshal—oh, everything, really—and he’s got to be the most homophobic gasbag in the universe.”
“That he is. That’s why I want to be very circumspect with what goes on out here.” Marshal stood, stretched, and then cracked his knuckles. “The last thing we need to do is give him another excuse to come out and start sniffing around again.”
Again, Dooley explained about the problems they’d had with the sheriff and why he seemed to be so hell-bent for scandal whenever anything went down on the Rough River Ranch. “Personally, I think he’s just got a hard-on for Marshal.”
“He must.” Marshal grimaced. “Every time he sees me he spends far more time looking at my crotch than my face.”
“Well, it is a very nice bulge you’re packing, Mr. Roberts.”
All three men looked toward the open doorway where Elliot stood.
“And that package is strictly for you.” Marshal tipped an imaginary hat Elliot’s way.
“Yeah? Well. Let me come on over there. I think I should inspect it before I sign for it.”
Dooley and Tristan left the office, and Tristan made sure to close the door firmly behind him. “Wow. Did you feel that?”
“The big blast of pheromones? Yeah.” Dooley glanced down at his jeans. “We’d better get used to it. From what I’ve been told, one mated pair can set off all the others.”
“I have a newfound respect for what they had to put up with when I wasn’t able to make up my mind.”
“No one will ever hold that against you.” Dooley pulled Tristan close.
“I know, and I appreciate that.” Tristan looked back at the office and then down the deserted hallway. “So, you want to go out and play?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
After shucking their clothing on the porch, Dooley shifted first so Tristan could put a small pack on him. The pouch held water, a cell phone, a flashlight, a GPS, and a few odds and ends. Whenever anyone went out on patrol, they carried one of the packs just to be on the safe side. As soon as it was in place, Tristan shifted and together they ran through the long grass that covered the land around the farmhouse. The first time they shifted they’d fornicated with a surprising animalistic frenzy that left both of them exhausted for days. Now that they’d taken all the steps, they were permanently cemented together and they were almost painfully happy.
“Do you miss anything about Montana?” Dooley asked as he strode beside his beautiful mate with the luxurious brown coat. Now that he’d been eating well and taking his meds, he looked so healthy that no one would ever guess the trial he’d gone through. Dooley was grateful there was no lasting damage from his desperate treatment. What was even more amazing was that half the time when Tristan felt a seizure coming, Tristan was able to relax and let the event happen if it would. Rather than fighting it, he accepted it, and his lessened anxiety had made a world of difference. Even when the seizures came, they weren’t as severe as they had been before. Half the time he didn’t lose his bladder, and though when it happened it was involuntary, that it didn’t happen all the time made a huge difference to Tristan. The more comfortable he became, the more trusting and open he became. Everyone on the ranch simply adored him.
“I don’t really miss anything in particular about Montana. I liked it, but it was so cold there and I had no friends. Not really. I don’t think delivery people really count as confidants.”
Dooley was so glad that Tristan didn’t have to go back to that painful loneliness. “It’s nice to be with others who are like us. People who we can honestly count on and people who know they can depend on us, too.”
Tristan nodded, and then he went still. His head went up, his eyes went closed, and slowly his tail lowered. “Do you smell that?”
Dooley sniffed, but all he smelled was sage.
“It smells like a dead animal. A big one. Do you think it could be one of the cattle?”
“God, I hope not. We had a problem with coyotes—the real McCoy, not the shifter kind—hunting the herd, but once we started doing patrols in our coyote forms they moved to happier hunting grounds. Or so we thought.”
“Well, something brought something big down.” Tristan sniffed delicately again then began to track the scent.
“It might not be a cow. We do have deer around here, too.” Dooley followed his mate since he certainly had the better sniffer. Besides, Dooley liked the view.

“You know I heard that thought.” Tristan chuckled.

“I know. I wanted you to. Maybe after we find whatever this thing is we can have some rough animal sex.”
“Sounds good but work first.”
“Spoilsport!”
“I’m dedicated.”
“You are that.” Dooley grinned, which felt strange on his coyote face. “But you’re also the most amazing man.”
“I am?” Tristan kept going, but he looked back at Dooley for a second then back to his path.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, here you are having to deal with a much older mate.”
“Oh, please. You’re in better shape than I am!”
“But I’m all set in my ways and cranky. You’ve been able to deal with that.”
“You’re not cranky, you’re fussy, and I still love you.” Tristan paused.“Go on.”
“Right. I’m listing your stellar qualities. You’re also mind- bogglingly smart when it comes to computers. I thought Vance was going to fall to the ground and kiss your feet when you fixed his computer.”
“He thought he’d deleted all his files, but he just inadvertently moved them.”
“Still, no one else would have been able to fix that.”
“And?”
“You’re the best tracker we have.” Dooley trusted Tristan’s nose to bring them right to the source of the stench.
“We’ll see about that. I haven’t found the dead thing yet.”
“Yeah, but you were able to smell it all the way back there when I still can’t smell it.” Dooley kept on listing all the things that made Tristan the most wonderful man in the universe.
“Wow. I do sound pretty damn epic.”
“You are.”

“So are you.” Tristan made a sudden ninety-degree turn. “I think we’re almost there.”
It was at least another half mile. “Damn but your nose is simply amazing. I never would have found this. I think we’ve come at least five miles.”
They gazed upon a cow who had been dead about a day given the state of decomposition. What was so strange was that there weren’t any marks around the neck that would indicate a coyote attack. There also wasn’t any chewing at the belly—usually the very first thing coyotes went after once they brought a cow down.
“There’s not a mark on the thing.”
“How strange.”
Both of them sniffed around the bushes, but all Dooley could smell was decay and more sage.
“I’m smelling something, but I simply can’t pinpoint what it is or the direction it went.”
“I’m going to shift into human so I can examine this with better eyes.” That was one of the drawbacks to coyote form. Their eyes were designed to track movement, not assess colors. With bright moonlight they could see for miles, but they didn’t see super sharp details. They had far more of a range of vision, peripherally, but that was traded off for visual acuity.
As he shifted to human, the pack he wore dropped to the dirt. Once he was human, he retrieved the flashlight, flipped it on, and then examined the cow in more detail.
“What’s the scoop?” Naked and unconcerned with his nudity, Tristan stood next to him.
“I honestly don’t know.” Dooley carefully inspected everything he could see from the position the cow was in. “There isn’t a scratch on her.”
“How strange. Is it like she just dropped dead?”
“I guess.” Dooley shrugged. “I might know more if I could roll her over or perform a necropsy.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s like an autopsy on animals. But I really don’t have specialized tools or anything.” Dooley scratched his head. “It’s like she was just walking along, chewing her cud, and died.”
“No indication of anything?”
Dooley flicked the flashlight over her face. “I know this sounds strange, but she looks startled.”
“Could she have been scared to death?”
“I suppose so.” Dooley washed the flashlight around the area. “But by what?”
“Coyotes?”
“Like I said earlier, they’re gone.”
“Or so you thought.”
Dooley wondered if the shadows had something to do with it but he doubted that. Once the men of the ranch knew about them and their games, they hadn’t really been around. There was no point when they couldn’t trick anyone. With a curious chill of foreboding, Dooley looked toward the foothills and wondered what else was living up there they maybe didn’t know about. He couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding. Cows just didn’t drop dead for no reason.
“Should we call Marshal?”
“Yeah.” Dooley called, got Marshal on the phone, and gave him the news. He took it with his usual aplomb.
“Nothing to be done. Can you give me her tag number and GPS location?”
Dutifully, Dooley read him the numbers then switched off the phone and GPS, slipping them back into the pack.
“So he’s got the location and all. Let’s get back to patrolling.”
“Is that what we were doing?”
“Weren’t we?” Dooley asked, tilting his head.
“I thought we were looking for a place to indulge our wild animal lusts.”
“That sounds like a great idea.” Dooley shifted so Tristan could put the pack on him, and then Tristan shifted. “But let’s get far away from this.”
“Absolutely.”
To his surprise, Tristan took off like his ass was on fire.
Dooley had to work hard to keep up. “Slow down or I won’t have any energy leftover!”
“You always have energy for sex!”
Growling, Dooley lunged for Tristan, but he missed when Tristan darted away. After a long and merry chase, Dooley finally cornered his mate.
“Do you have any idea how turned-on I am?” Dooley asked as he stalked proudly around his captured mate.
“I know that you’re about to fuck me like crazy.”
“Ah. Now I see your devious plan.”
“I know how to get what I want.”
As Dooley mounted him and sunk his swollen prick deep, he let out a triumphant howl.
“Bragger!” Tristan teased. “I think every creature in the whole valley heard that.”
“Good. Then they all know you’re totally taken.”
“That I am and I couldn’t be happier.
“Me, either.”
“No second thoughts, no regrets?”
“None at all. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be with the mate I was destined for.”
Dooley felt the exact same way.

THE END

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Reading, writing, and white-water rafting are the three things Anitra Lynn McLeod enjoys the most. You can visit her at www.AnitraMcLeod.com.

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