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all at once he knew her. Knew her like he had known her all of his life. He saw her as a gangling wolf pup, all skinny legs and floppy ears. Piddling every time she heard an unfamiliar noise. He knew her scent, an aroma that filled his head like helium. And he felt the stirring of molten lust in his belly. |
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Cyrus reached out to caress her muzzle, but instead of a hand with five fingers, he had a hairy brown paw. |
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Kyna woke in a sweat and for a moment she couldn't remember where she was. The room was as dark as a tomb with only the glowing red numbers from the alarm clock between the beds to tell her which way was up. It was three A.M. and she'd just had another of those dreams of a dark presence dogging her through a world of nightmare shadows. As with most dreams, Kyna had never seen the man's face, but she knew it had been hideous. |
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She sat up on the edge of the bed for a moment, staring in the dark at Cyrus's bed. She had never felt so frightened and alone. More than anything she wanted to be held, but what was she supposed to do? Climb into bed with him? A total stranger? What on earth would he think? |
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Scratch that, she thought. She knew exactly what he'd think. The question was: Did she care? |
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Strangely enough, she did. |
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"Well," Kyna whispered to his shadowy bed, "you wanted to know about women? Lesson one: Sometimes we just need to be held." |
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She reached out to touch his face and found an empty pillow. |
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His bed was still made up. |
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"You son of a bitch," she hissed. |
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Kyna shot off the bed and went to check the doorit was locked. Still, the bastard was getting paid to take care of her and here he was out chasing after a case of the clap, and here she was . . . |
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