Running Free (2 page)

Truth is, I’ve never had a loving touch from anyone. This man seems to want to comfort me despite the fact he’s caging me. I’m confused but crave his petting nonetheless.

“Be a good girl and we’ll find you a nice home, okay?” he says in a singsong voice that most people reserve for babies.

But I don’t want to go to a home. They’re all the same.

I want to be free.

Seizing the opportunity, I turn toward the massive hand and I bite. Hard. There’s no way I’m letting him cage me and then send me to another home like that of Joe’s.

“Stupid bitch!” he roars the moment my teeth tear through his flesh.

His blood tastes good considering I’m half-starved and I attempt to take another bite at him. But the man is too fast and he slams the cage door.

“You’re cute but with that sort of attitude, you’ll never leave the pound. Families don’t want dogs that bite — they want good dogs. I bet you piss and shit all over the floor too.”

I’m still reeling from his words.

Dog?

Am I dreaming?

I attempt to open up the cage but it’s in this moment that I see. Small black paws, my paws, claw at the metal.

This is impossible.

I’m a girl — a
human
girl.

Frankie

Ten years later…

I’m on my knees on the recently shined mahogany bar when a warm hand slips between my bare legs sending a shiver up my spine.

I know the hand but more importantly, I know the scent. Earl reeks of cheap cologne and whiskey.

“If you want to keep that hand, I suggest you take it off my thigh,” I threaten, the bite in my voice harsh.

“Jesus, Frankie. You can’t wiggle that ass in front of the patrons and not expect a man to do a thing about it,” Earl grumbles but wisely removes his hand.

I cast a glare spiked with venom in his direction. The coward shrinks back and shakes his head at me. He’s a Fox shifter who’s been after my ass for years. Problem is, I know he’s crawling with more than just fleas in his pants and I won’t touch his nasty-ass with a ten-foot pole.

“You’re not a man, Earl. You’re a girl with a goatee,” I retort with a laugh and resume screwing the lightbulb into the fixture above the bar.

Climbing off when I finish, now that the yellow glow lights up this end of the room, I flit my eyes over the crowd. Tonight’s a Monday which means we’re littered with our usual customers. Earl has rejoined his buddies at the table and I hear my name grumbled, followed by laughing from his goons.

I roll my eyes and saunter over to Gordon. Old man Gordon is human but everyone thinks he’s crazy — always spouting about seeing “things” in the woods around Woodland Creek, Indiana. We shifters know he’s referring to our kind, but we never let on. In fact, we make him think he’s crazy by laughing off his stories. Sometimes I feel bad for the old man but then I remember I don’t care.

The only person I truly care for is Otis Brock. At seventeen, I landed in this blip on the map of a town without a dime to my name. Having spent five years trying to wrap my head around the fact that I sometimes turned into a fucking dog, I was tired and ready to slit my wrists. This world was always more than I could handle — I was nothing more than a scrappy bottom feeder.

Otis Brock, however, disagreed.

One night, he found me prowling around his trashcans. Instead of running me off or attempting to capture me, he spoke to me. He could have feared me, being that in my shifted form I’m a badass Doberman, but he didn’t. Instead, he asked me my name.

I wasn’t used to humans speaking to me in my animal form — for they knew I couldn’t speak back. But Otis was asking me as if I would actually answer. My trust in anyone was non-existent, so I simply watched him with a guarded look and a growl rumbling in my throat. With a resonated sigh, I watched in awe as he gracefully transformed from that of a middle-aged man to a large owl with beautiful grey feathers. His clothes and glasses had fallen to a heap on the dirt beneath him and he stared at me with wide, knowing eyes.

I had never seen anyone like myself. There were a few dogs in the pound who watched me with human-like eyes, so I wondered if there were more like me. But not once had I met anyone else.

After Otis shifted back, he redressed and approached me. My tail wagged against my wishes and I was grateful when he scooped me into his arms. That night, he gave me a bath and fed me leftover roast. It wasn’t until later that night in his guest bedroom that I shifted back into my human form. Thankfully, knowing what I was, Otis had left me a pile of old clothes to change into.

He showed me kindness in a way no other person in this godforsaken world ever had before.

“You’ll never figure old Gordon out,” a voice chuckles, startling me from my thoughts of Otis.

Turning to the voice, I force a smile when I see my ex, Luca. Luca is like myself but he’s a Wolf shifter. He’s the alpha of his motorcycle gang pack, the Grey Lotharios, a mix of not just wolves but bears and tigers as well. The man is an animal in the sack but he couldn’t keep his dick out of the whores in this town long enough for us to have any hope of a real relationship. We’ve remained quasi-friends ever since.

“Poor guy,” I mutter as I make my way over to the tap to pour Luca’s favorite brew. “Have you seen Acey?”

Acey Larson is one of the nephews of a member of Luca’s pack — a Wolf shifter. His father was last seen with a female wizard and never returned, leaving the poor teenager to fend for himself. Even though he isn’t but sixteen, I told him he could wash dishes and clean tables for minimum wage. The kid has been fairly reliable and I’ve been poorly attempting to guide him through his shifting that he’s yet to find control of. His uncle, Pete Larson, is a sorry piece of shit who won’t explain a damn thing to him. What I can’t explain or help with, Otis steps in for.

“Naw, does he work tonight?”

I frown and slide over his beer to him. “He should have been here twenty minutes ago. You know how I worry about him.”

His grey eyes skim over my cleavage before he regards me with furrowed eyebrows. “Always were a softie behind that bitchy façade,” he flirts and raises his hand to flick the metal heart hanging from my spiked collar around my neck.

Otis claims I’m rebellious but I say I’m owning up to who I truly am. And wearing a collar with a “bitch” tag seems fitting. Besides, when I’m wearing clothes, it matches. I have a thing for dark, edgy clothes. Tonight, I’m wearing cutoff jean shorts and a black Old Town Bar T-shirt that I cut to bits to show off my neon pink bra underneath.

“Bite me,” I huff and swat his hand away from me.

“Aww,” he says with a growl and raises a smug brow. “If I recall, you were the one who liked to bite.”

Before, Luca could say naughty things to me and I’d already be blowing him in the bathroom. That was back when I was naïve and actually thought we could have something real. I’d been stupid and for once put my heart on the line. Luca crushed it and continues to act like it was no big deal. I’ll be friends with the hot Wolf shifter, but nothing more.

Even now, after having not been laid in months, I am still immune to his advances. Thank God.

“Fuck off,” I tease as I make my way from behind the bar over to the window.

No sign of Acey. Shit. My heart rate quickens as dread seeps its way in my veins. I’m pondering whether or not I should leave when Luca’s heat envelops me from behind.

“I’ll gather some guys and we’ll put out a search. If the punk shows up, call me and I’ll come kick his ass for you,” he grumbles and places a hand on my hip.

Why’d he have to mess everything up? I miss rolling around in bed with this man.

I turn and give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Luca.”

His grey eyes are all over me, melting me with their heat. The man has an uncanny ability to bring any woman to her knees. Good thing, I’m not any normal woman.

Breaking away from his grip I force a tight smile. “Chop, chop. He’s late for his shift and we’re starting to get busy.” The last part is a lie but Luca nods, knowing he’s been dismissed.

I eye the clock and the moment it hits a quarter after one, I start kicking everyone out. After the last patron leaves, I don’t bother cleaning up and lock up. There’s been no word from Acey or Luca which has me worried.

Slipping out the back door to the bar, I make sure no one is around before I strip naked. Otis, long ago, taught me how to control my shifting. He said it was all in the mind and only I could control it. Now, I can do it on command.

Clearing my head and replacing it with black, empty thoughts, I relax until my skin begins to tingle. The moment I begin to change, my protective nature ripples through me and my muscles tense to run at full speed through the woods, sniffing out every possible lead.

Even though I enjoy being in my Doberman form, I hate that I can’t talk. That’s the worst. And sex in animal form is brutal — not at all pleasurable. Luca and I learned once, the hard way that a wolf and a Doberman weren’t meant to copulate. After his ruthless fucking, I had been sore for days. From that point on, we only had sex in our human forms.

And at least then I could orgasm.

The wind picks up as my paws crunch the fall leaves beneath my feet now that I’m fully changed and on all fours. Lifting my snout into the air, I sniff for clues.

A hint of smoke from a fire.

Pine needles with their strong odors permeate my senses.

Rotting trash from a dumpster nearby makes my stomach grumble.

Focus, Frankie.

Ahhh, a metallic, foreign scent tickles my nose and before I even question what it is, I’m running full speed toward Woodland Pond. As I charge forward, I keep my ears open and listen for any indications of both human and shifter in the vicinity.

Under the moonlight, the pond glistens and frogs croak. Having been pawed on all night by drunk patrons and reeking of smoke, I have the urge to take a dip in the cold water. But when I get a stronger whiff of the foreign smell, I stop dead in my tracks.

Blood.

Lots of it.

A whine escapes me as I trot toward the smell. It isn’t long before I discover Acey on the banks of the pond.

No, please no.

His teenage body is still clothed wearing his bar T-shirt and apron, which means he was in his human form, but his intestines have been strung from his belly.

Someone fucking gutted him.

I snarl out in anger and squat down beside him. His lifeless blue eyes stare into the sky and my heart breaks for him. Flipping my tongue out, I lick his eyelids close and clean his face. Poor kid. He didn’t have anyone looking after him properly. His stupid uncle should have protected him better.

Being a Doberman shifter, I possess a keen sense of sight and smell. However, I need my eyes to see what else I can find. Once again, I blacken my mind and shift back into my naked human form.

“Poor thing,” I coo and stroke his hair. “Who did this to you? I’ll make them pay.”

I pat him down until I find his cell phone. There aren’t any clues or any damning messages, so after I wipe away my prints with his shirt, I shove it back into his apron. Looking around, I don’t see anything that leads me to determine who did this to him.

After I search all around his body, I finally shift back and make my way back to the bar. I need to call Luca and have him send the boys out to the body. I’m simply a Doberman shifter, not made to hunt, but Luca in his wolf form will be able to pick up a scent if possible.

I trot toward the bar when headlights blind me before they turn into the parking lot. A big man steps out and his eyes are quickly on me.

“Hey there, boy. Are you lost?” he questions as he approaches.

Boy. I’ll show him boy.

Letting my hackles raise, I growl and let my power of intimidation wash over me. It’s my thing. Otis says every shifter has some ability that makes them unique. He told me mine was being able to frighten most people but I also have a protective nature. Otis’s power is that he is wise, go figure, and has a heart of gold.

“Okay,” the man chuckles, “I was just going inside anyway. Run along there.”

He isn’t afraid of me, which pisses me off, and casually turns away to knock on the locked bar door. I have the urge to bite the shit out of his leg but instead bolt around to the back of the building to where I left my clothes. His knocks echo through the trees which surround the bar and I scramble to dress. Once clothed, forgoing my shoes, I run to the door to tell this asshole we’re closed.