Free Melbourne Heat by Elizabeth Lapthorne Page A

chemical reaction to release warmth.
    It had taken less than a minute, but where Charles the man had stood there was now an enormous wolf. His pelt was a mixture of black and brown, his eyes beady black. Spencer gaped, his mind at first refusing to believe what he’d just seen. He trembled, astounded.
    Charles just stood there, sniffing the air. He shook his body and ruffled his fur. Head cocked to the side, he then took a single step forward.
    Spencer swallowed hard. An insane little voice inside his head babbled, wanted to hold out a hand and say, “Nice wolfie,” much like he’d been trained to approach a strange dog.
    It wasn’t hard to quash that impulse. Teasing might have its place, but it wasn’t here.
    Spencer squatted down on his haunches, so his face was level with the wolf.
    “I have no idea what to say right now,” he admitted, figuring honesty was his best course. “Do you even understand what I’m saying? I’m guessing you recognize me, that whole scent thing again. Damn, Charles, this is one fucked up situation.”
    The wolf padded over to him. Spencer’s legs wobbled, but he held his position, refusing to back down. If Charles could show him something this private, he could be man enough to stand up to him.
    The wolf sniffed his hair then his neck. Charles darted his pink wolf tongue out and licked over the mark on Spencer’s skin.
    “Yeah,” Spencer said, not even sure what he meant anymore.
    He reached out and rubbed the sleek fur. It was bristly but far softer than he’d thought. Stroking down the wolf’s neck was calming, comforting in a strange way.
    Spencer had officially reached his limit of strange for the evening.
    He forced his mind to stop thinking and just breathed. Wrapping his arms around the wolf’s neck, he then buried his face in its fur. Spencer took slow, even breaths and tried to calm his racing heart.
    After a minute or so he pulled back. Spencer still felt overwhelmed, but he was no longer scared of Charles regardless of his form.
    So that was progress, right?
    “I really need to think,” Spencer said. “I’m not scared, or going to turn away from this, from us. But I need to get my head on straight. Call me tomorrow, okay? I’m a rotten cook, but you’re welcome to come over to my place for dinner. Or we can go out somewhere, whatever you like. I just need to breathe and sort this out for myself. Okay?”
    Charles huffed out a breath, which Spencer took to be an assent. The wolf licked a rough stroke over his face, following the line of his cheekbone, then paced back a few steps.
    Spencer stood. He stroked a palm down the line of Charles’ back, really enjoying the smooth fur, then forced himself to step back.
    “Call me,” he repeated. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Charles.”
    Spencer collected his bag and left the house, making sure the door locked behind him. He set out into the evening, glad for the long walk ahead of him. He needed the exercise and space to think.

Chapter Six
     
     
     
    It had taken two hours of fluffing about, but Spencer was finally absorbed in the report he was writing. When his mobile phone rang, his instinct was to ignore it. After only a slight pause, he continued his calculations, until he recalled that he was waiting on a call from Charles.
    All of his distractions, which had taken considerable effort to mentally shelve this morning, came crashing back. He pushed his seat back and lifted his hips. Digging into his pocket, he pulled his phone out and answered it before it could switch to voicemail.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi, Spencer,” Charles replied. “How are you this morning?”
    “Good. Better,” Spencer said. He took a breath and mentally shook himself. “Thank you for giving me last night. I’m sorry if I didn’t handle it as well as you’d have liked.”
    “Don’t worry. I’m sorry we were both put in that position. I’d have never sprung all that on you on our second date, not by choice,” Charles said. “Though