Page 16 of Reconditioning the Wolf

“Very much so,” Madagascar confirmed with a quiet scoff. “Just... yeah. Just damn.”

“Huh,” Ishmael mumbled. Then his attention focused on Madagascar’s neck, and his eyes widened. “Hey, it’s already a scar. How’d that happen?”

Madagascar pecked a kiss to Ishmael’s lips before explaining, “I told you a shifter has increased healing.” Then he winked before adding, “And I’d been told that a mate’s saliva has healing properties. Guess it’s true.” Hoping Ishmael would drop it, Madagascar began easing from the bed. “So, I’m going to shuck my clothes and shift into my bear. Don’t worry,” he assured, slipping from the bed. “Like I told you before. I understand everything and know my friends and family even when I’m in animal form.”

“A-A b-bear?” Ishmael tensed, staring at him with wide eyes.

Thinking maybe a large brown bear wasn’t the best to see right out of the gate, Madagascar asked, “Or would you like to see someone else shift? We have a couple of wolf shifters here that would be happy to shift for you.” Grinning roguishly, Madagascar added, “Or something more exotic, like an elephant or camel? Something cute, like a penguin?”

“P-People believe they can change into those things?”

Madagascar didn’t bother trying to correct the way Ishmael phrased the question. Instead, he nodded as he righted his jeans. “Yep.” As he roved his gaze over Ishmael’s still-open pants, he growled, “Of course, if you want to see one of them, you’ll have to pull up your pants. We’re not too concerned about nudity, as a rule, but I don’t want anyone to see your sexy body unless you’re shifting.”

Ishmael didn’t comment on that. Instead, he blushed as he eased from the bed and righted his underwear and pants. Then he grimaced as he began scratching at the now-dried semen Madagascar had left on his chest.

Damn, that’s hot.

“There’s a couple of bottles of water on the nightstand,” Madagascar stated, heading toward them. “I’ll soak your ruined shirt.” As he cracked open a bottle and grabbed one of the shirt pieces from the floor, Madagascar admitted, “I cut it off you so you’d be more comfortable sleeping.”

After soaking the fabric, Madagascar held it out to Ishmael. “Unless you’ll let me clean you?”

Grabbing the cloth, Ishmael blushed once more. “Maybe later,” he mumbled under his breath. He even went so far as to turn away as he began wiping himself down.

Madagascar decided he would have to wait until next time—when Ishmael was blissed out from pleasure—before he could enjoy the experience of cleaning up his lover.

Soon.

Chapter Eight

Eating breakfast outside was a novel experience for Ishmael. There were several cookfires in use—men cooking bacon, eggs, and sausages over them. On his way outside, Ishmael had passed the arch to the kitchen, and he’d spotted a couple of someones moving around in there, too.

When Ishmael had stepped out into the cool morning, he’d been shocked to see so many people milling around. Some were obviously still getting ready for the day, brushing their teeth with a tin cup in hand that Madagascar had explained was full of water. Most people wandered around only in a pair of shorts and either sandals or hiking boots.

Considering Ishmael still wasn’t wearing a shirt, seeing that made him feel more comfortable.

“Come on, Ish,” Madagascar urged, taking his hand and leading the way toward a couple of tents. “You didn’t get to meet my family last night.”

Ishmael felt a renewed feeling of trepidation, but he didn’t really think he had a choice. Instead, he followed along behind his lover—holy cow, I have a lover. Peering at the big men through his lashes, Ishmael managed an uneasy smile as he was greeted by everyone. Not only did Madagascar give all the men’s names, but also what animal they supposedly shifted into. The only small man was introduced as a warlock-in-training.

These guys sure seem certain about things.

Except, Ishmael realized if Madagascar was telling the truth, that meant Doctor Meyer had been lying to him for years. That thought caused bile to rise in his throat. As much as he didn’t want all these nice, friendly men to really be the bad guys, Ishmael hated to think that the doctor had betrayed his trust even more.

“Ready for some coffee and food?” Madagascar asked as he slid an arm around his waist. “After our meal, I’ll introduce you to a few others who would be happy to shift for you.”

“I—”

Ishmael paused. Did he really want coffee if it wasn’t expected of him? Everyone at the facility drank it, so when he’d started working there, it had always been included on his breakfast tray. Ishmael hadn’t wanted to draw attention to himself, so he’d drink most of it before tossing the rest.

Madagascar did say he wanted to know more about me. Maybe—

“No one will give you shit that you want to see someone shift before accepting it, Ishmael,” Madagascar told him, rubbing his back, clearly misunderstanding. “Just about every human has the exact same reaction as you.”

“But you said I’m not human,” Ishmael couldn’t help pointing out.

Madagascar shrugged. “But you think you are.” Leaning close, he pecked a kiss to Ishmael’s lips, making him blush, and Madagascar grinned. “Come on.” When they reached one of the fires, Madagascar pointed at the different carafes being kept warm on rocks. “What kind of coffee do you like? French roast, dark, decaf?”

There are different kinds of coffee?

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