Page 4 of Midlife Animal Rescuer Wolf

The cry was too high pitched to have come from Jerry. If she had to guess, the voice belonged to a woman—or some kind of dog. A shiver raced through her body. Were there other people in these woods?

Hope clawed at her from within and, without hesitation, she changed her trajectory, shoving leaves and branches out of her way as she made a beeline for the source of the sound. She stumbled over thorns, twigs snapping beneath her slippers. Just up ahead was a small clearing. Most likely, the sound had come from there. Relieved at the prospect of no longer being alone in these woods, she doubled her pace and burst into the clearing.

It took Miranda all of two seconds to realize she’d made a big mistake.

There was no one in sight—no human being, anyway. In the center of the woods, barely ten feet away, was a brown wolf larger than she was.

“Oh, my...” she breathed.

It lay on its side, its flank heaving, its jaws parted wide open. One glimpse at those gleaming teeth and her heart rose into her throat, then she brought her gaze lower. Around the wolf’s hind legs were shards of glass, and one of them was stuck in its paw. Blood trickled from the wound onto the earth.

“Crap,” she muttered. “Crap, crap, crap.”

It occurred to her that she should probably leave the clearing as fast as her tired legs could carry her, but before she could get herself to turn around, the wolf lifted its head and its eyes met hers.

For a second, everything seemed to freeze, and Miranda felt her blood turn to ice. She stared back at the creature, unable to move, unable even to blink. This was it. This was exactly what she’d been worried about. Injured or not, the wolf was still extremely dangerous, and she’d practically thrown herself in front of him.

I guess it was only a matter of time before something like this happened, she told herself.

She breathed a resigned sigh, bracing herself for the attack she knew was sure to come.

But the wolf didn’t attack. It didn’t even snarl at her. As she watched, three things happened in rapid succession.

The wolf slowly rose, standing on its three uninjured legs.

It closed its eyes.

And then it began to transform.

I’m dreaming, Miranda thought. I must’ve hit my head earlier, and this is all a dream. Or maybe I’m hallucinating. This can’t be real.

Except that it was. Somehow, she knew that much. She stared, torn between shock and sheer terror, as the wolf’s fur seemed to melt into pale flesh, its paws turning into humanoid hands and feet. The sound of bones cracking filled the clearing as the creature’s snout receded into its face. Within seconds, the wolf was gone, and she blinked, stunned, at the new figure standing in the center of the clearing.

The man blinked back.

Chapter Two

The Naked Guy in the Woods

Of all the reckless, idiotic things Bryon could possibly have done, shifting in this woman’s presence was at the top of the list.

In his defense, he’d been trying not to scare her. He’d seen the look of terror on her face as she stared at his wolf form, and so he’d done the only thing he could think of in that situation, shifting back to his more familiar, less threatening human form in spite of the pain flaring in his foot.

Too bad it hadn’t exactly worked out. Judging from the way her eyes widened, he’d only managed to make matters worse.

You should’ve stayed a wolf, said a voice in his head. How are you going to explain this?

The pair of them stared at each other for the next few seconds in almost complete silence, the only sound being the leaves rustling as a gentle breeze blew around them. Bryon took a long look at the woman, and his stomach did a tiny backflip, making him forget for one brief moment the glass shard that was in his foot.

She was beautiful—no, stunning, was a more befitting word. The woman’s blonde hair streaked with red fluttered gently around her head. A blue bathrobe hung from her shoulders over checked pajamas, and she wore pink bunny slippers on her feet. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, although the leaves and twigs in her hair told a different story. Her round blue eyes were fixed on him, as though she expected him to make a sudden move.

He bit back a wince as the pain in his foot flared.

Dammit.

If he’d been more careful, he wouldn’t be here right now; he’d still be searching for the foal. He hadn’t taken a good look at his injury yet, but he didn’t need to see it to know that the shard was lodged deep in his foot.

Great way to start the day, he thought sarcastically. I haven’t even had breakfast yet.