Free Curves for the Alpha Wolf by Caroline Knox

 
     
    When Justin
appeared outside of my cage at the pound, I let out a dismayed whimper. Of all
the werewolves in the pack to witness my shame, why did it have to be him? Why
Justin, the sexy alpha I’d had a crush on forever?
    “Yes, she’s
mine,” he told the interested female employee, who trailed her fingers over
Justin’s large hand as she handed a thin nylon leash to him. I growled at her.
Justin’s eyes laughed at me but he kept a straight face. “ Good Chrissy. Good doggie. I know it’s been traumatic for
you, but I’ll take you home and everything will be okay.”
    For a moment I
was tempted to believe that everything would be okay. I wagged my tail at the
thought of going home with Justin. If anyone could make my life okay again it
was Justin. But then I remembered. I’d turned into a dog. Not a wolf.
    Not even a
predator of a dog. I looked down at the black fur covering my plump figure, the
gentle swell of the little belly, the long pointed tail. I shook my head to
clear it. Floppy ears flapped. Adorable. Domestic. Embarrassing as hell. I was
a Labrador Retriever.
    Nobody had
warned me this could happen to me.
    Of course, the
pack members who might have warned me had collectively turned their backs on me
the night that skinny bitch Meredith brutalized my pet. Hunting in her werewolf
form, she’d caught my dog Digger. She’d proceeded to play with her like a cat
with a mouse. She broke all four of Digger’s legs, blinded her in one eye,
sliced deep enough into her abdomen that viscera bulged out, and ripped open
her throat. It was a miracle my dog lived.
    I guess people
were surprised by my response when I caught Meredith still at her play. I tried
to kill her. I didn’t succeed at killing Meredith—werewolves are much
tougher than teenage girls—but I managed to inflict a permanent scar. One
little scar at the corner of her vicious mouth.
    That, however,
was one scar too many. Pack rules were absolute: any human who injured a
werewolf on pack land had to leave. No further contact with werewolves was
permitted. Pack law allowed no exceptions.
    At the time of
the incident l unfortunately still qualified as human. Since I hadn’t changed
into a werewolf yet, even at the relatively mature age of seventeen, it seemed
likely I never would. Most people managed the trick during puberty or just
post-puberty.
    Being thrown
out of the only home I’d ever known had hurt. I hated leaving the house where
my parents had raised me before the car accident claimed them. I hated saying
goodbye to both my heritage and my friends.
    I hated leaving
Justin.
    But I hadn’t
had a choice. I took Digger and found a cheap apartment down in the city, a
tiny place of my own where I could nurse the poor dog back to health. She still
had trouble walking.
    As if I didn’t
have enough problems, this afternoon while walking to work I turned into a dog.
My memories are hazy after that, but I remember sniffing at bushes and peeing
on someone’s lawn. Animal control picked me up.
    I walked around
my cage, exploring. I glanced at Justin. He was suddenly looking at me like I’d
grown another head. I realized I’d forgotten about him for a minute. Had I been
barking at the beagle in the cage next door? Barking ? Oh, crap. I sat down abruptly with a distressed
whine. I was losing my identity, my memories of being a human. That was bad.
      Justin’s eyes tracked every small
movement of mine. His mouth hardened and his brows came together in a slight
frown. “Chrissy, I’ve got to get you out of here now.” He looked at the female
attendant and for the first time I felt his alpha power surging. “Unlock the
cage,” he commanded her in a seductive growly tone.
    His eyes
watched her with a predator’s gleam. I knew Justin targeted her to make her
submissive and compliant for his own purposes. It was an alpha’s right. His
voice did delightful things to my nerve endings, but of course I wasn’t the
voice’s target. The very