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What had happened to Desmond tonight wasn’t natural.
Thinking of Lucas gave me pause. Was there a precedent for this sort of thing? If a way existed to force a man into a wolf, surely a werewolf king would know about it and might be able to offer some suggestions.
I went to the bedroom and found my phone, then came back to sit in front of Desmond again, shifting my attention from him to the cell. “I don’t want to call him,” I admitted to both the wolf and the phone.
Des rolled onto his side and exposed his belly, wagging his shaggy tail so it made a thumping sound against the floor.
“Seriously?”
He seemed dead set on it, so I sat cross-legged on the carpet next to him and rubbed his belly. Considering what he’d been through tonight, it was the least I could do.
I went through a mental list of anyone else I could call, and then a bulb went off over my head and I paged through my contacts. Without considering what time it was in the US, I dialed.
After three rings I was rewarded with a silky Southern drawl saying, “Hello, Secret.”
“Callum.”
“What can I do for my beloved absentee niece?”
My hand tightened on the phone, and I bit back the venomous spew of words threatening to come out. I reminded myself Callum was a better option than Lucas, and it wouldn’t do any good to alienate him before getting what I wanted. I still hadn’t forgiven Callum for the role he’d played in ruining my wedding.
While I admittedly was better off having dodged a marriage to Lucas—who’d proven exactly where I ranked on his list of importance—I couldn’t believe what Callum had done to demonstrate it. He’d called Lucas back to Louisiana on the day of my would-be wedding just to show me the pack would always matter more.
And Lucas, rather than send an emissary, had gone himself, standing me up because he believed our human wedding ceremony didn’t matter.
They were both selfish, pigheaded sons of bitches. Literally in the case of the last point.
But if I had to choose between a rock and a hard place, I chose Callum. I didn’t want to owe Lucas shit.
“I have a bit of a situation I’m hoping you could help me with.”
“Do tell.” His voice was like honey, so smooth and warm. Callum sounded totally at ease, like nothing could cause him worry. It was a front, of course. He was manipulative and conniving, and would do anything to make himself appear unflappable.
“Have you ever encountered a situation with a wolf shifting for reasons other than the full moon or pack influence?”
Or being a freak.
“Aside from your mother?”
I guess it was common knowledge my mother could force partial shifts. What was less widely known was that I could too.
“No, I mean a full shift.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Want to ask Desmond how possible it is? Oh, right, you can’t because he’s a fucking wolf.”
This news rattled Callum enough for him to lapse into a brief silence. “Interesting. Have you spoken to your husband about this?”
Low blow.
“No, I thought I’d call someone I respected first, but clearly that was my mistake.”
“Now, now. You’re not a teenager, there’s no need to behave like an insolent child. I only asked a question. Desmond is the wolf king’s lieutenant. He’s second in line for the Eastern pack throne…or third now, I suppose.”
I chose not to dwell on the knowledge I could succeed Lucas to the leadership of the pack. It didn’t matter, since Lucas wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and we had a more pressing problem at hand.
“Please, Callum. I need your help, and I’m not interested in involving Luc…my husband.” Ugh. “Do you know what’s going on?”
