Page 21 of Reconditioning the Wolf

The fae tipped his head back and laughed at her audacity.

Ishmael knew he could be a little slow, but even he realized that Doctor Meyer had no say in the situation. He also realized that she evidently had extensive knowledge of the paranormal. Ishmael had never heard of the fae, and he desperately wanted to ask Madagascar about the man as well as what the doctor meant by going back to his realm.

Keeping his mouth shut, Ishmael decided to do it later.

“Thank you, Elron,” Kontra rumbled, addressing the fae. “I appreciate the shield.”

“My pleasure, Alpha.” The fae—Elron—slung his arm around the waist of the muscular, Native American man who’d been flanking him. “If Castor and I are to make this our home after you leave, it’s time I take a little more responsibility.”

“Yeah. That’ll be the day,” a man stated with a snort as he appeared as if out of nowhere. He, too, had lavender eyes, but this man was big, broad, and bald. Smirking, the second fae crossed his arms over his chest. “But nice shield.”

“Thanks.” Elron snickered as he bowed deeply. “And you know me too well, Prudhoe.”

Prudhoe sobered as he focused on Kontra. “What do you want done with these assholes?”

Kontra glanced Ishmael’s way before sighing deeply. “I’m sorry you have to see paranormal justice so soon after your awakening, Ishmael.” He scowled at the group as he continued, “But the atrocities this woman has perpetuated against our kind has only one consequence. Death.”

“You can’t kill me,” Doctor Meyer screamed. “What I did was in the name of science. I helped people.”

“By torturing shifters,” Sam cut in with a growl. “The ends don’t justify the means.”

When the doctor opened her mouth again, Kontra interrupted, “But first, we need to know a few things.”

Sneering, Doctor Meyer lifted her chin. “I won’t tell you abominations a damn thing.”

Ishmael flinched, cuddling harder against Madagascar’s side. He hated hearing what she really thought of him. Still, he figured if he hadn’t, he would always wonder.

“Ah, there’s the slurs,” Madagascar muttered, shaking his head. “Knew they’d turn up somewhere.”

“Fortunately, we don’t need you to tell us anything,” Kontra claimed. Turning, he caught the eye of another approaching male. “May I introduce Draven, a warlock and vampire. He’ll extract whatever we need from you before we carry out your sentence.”

“If you kill me, people will come looking,” Doctor Meyer declared, backing up a step as she peered around wildly—not that there was anywhere any of them could go. “You’ll never be safe here. Let me go, and I’ll never return. We can forget any of this ever happened.”

Scoffing, Draven curled his lip, revealing a fang. “As if we’d believe you.” He’d paused just outside the shielded area. “You reek of deceit.”

Ishmael was tempted to get closer to Doctor Meyer just so he could know what that smelled like. He must have made a move, for he felt Madagascar’s arm tighten around him. Focusing on his bear-shifter lover, Ishmael saw his arched brow and knew what it was—a silent question.

Shrugging, Ishmael admitted, “Wanted to know what that smelled like.”

“You really don’t,” Draven countered, peering over his shoulder at him. His blue eyes were narrowed, and his pale lips were curled. “It smells really bad. Worse than rotten eggs.”

Even as Ishmael nodded, he figured he would have to ask Madagascar about that later. He didn’t remember ever smelling rotten eggs.

“You can’t do anything to me with us behind this shield,” Doctor Meyer claimed, perhaps still looking for a way out of the mess she’d walked into. “And as soon as it drops, we’ll just shoot everyone.”

As if to back up her words, the over half a dozen men with her raised their weapons and picked a target.

Doctor Meyer tapped the man next to her and pointed at Ishmael. “Kill him first,” she ordered as she glared at him. “If I’m going to die, I want to see him die first. This is all his fault.”

Ishmael sucked in a sharp breath upon hearing her words. He tried to press closer to Madagascar’s side, but he was already flush against him. A shudder worked through Ishmael, and he was tempted to turn and run back around the side of the house.

Madagascar snarled, stepping in front of him. “Why can’t the damn bad guys take responsibility for their own fucking actions?”

Yup. I definitely think it’s time to run.

If Ishmael had remained in wolf form, he would have had his tail between his legs.

“Because they are misguided assholes,” Mutegi stated dryly, shaking his head. “Always the same.”

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