The Untamed Beast

Megan grimaced. “It does seem like…well, like a once-in-a-lifetime sort of moment.”

“It’s fate.” Jane gave a melodramatic sigh. “It was so devastating for you, having Stephen die one week before your wedding. It’s almost like you couldn’t recover without something to jolt you out of your grief. And trust me, this guy is just the jolt you need. So get going before some coffee-shop waitress hijacks him.”

Megan nodded in reluctant agreement, then murmured, “Wish me luck,” and headed into the lobby. On her left she saw the glass elevator that would take her to Rick. On the right, the double doors leading to a row of taxis parked in front of the hotel.

Just go home and watch TV, she told herself ruefully. That’s more your speed, right?

Jane would be disappointed in her and would assume she’d gotten cold feet because she was mourning Stephen. It wasn’t quite true. Yes, she felt bad about her dead fiancé, but not because she had been so madly in love with him that his death had left a gaping hole in her heart. Just the opposite, in fact. She had realized, one week before the wedding, that sweet, dependable Stephen wasn’t the right man for her. Sure, they had loved the same movies, devoured the same favorite foods, laughed at the same stupid jokes, almost to an uncanny extent. It had seemed like a sign that they were meant to be together always. But there was no passion between them, a fact that had become achingly clear when, during her shopping spree for sexy lingerie for the honeymoon, she had realized he’d either be amused or touched—or maybe even secretly annoyed—by so impractical an expense.

Not exactly the response a bride looks for.

So she had resolved to break the engagement, but before she could, news of his fatal accident had reached her, and she had gone numb with guilt and confusion.

And had stayed numb for almost a year, until tonight, when Rick Diaz—in all his beastly glory—had jumpstarted her senses. She wondered if it would last, or if she would revert to her old self by morning. Either way, she would be grateful to him for giving her a taste of animal magnetism. For sniffing her neck and sending her nerve endings into orbit. For proving to her that she had been right about Stephen, after all—that passion was something worth having.

Just have it with a regular guy, not a scary stud, she advised herself as she fumbled for her wallet, double-checking that she had cash for a cab.

Then a powerful form stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path.

Startled, Megan looked up into Rick’s smoldering eyes and gulped. “Oh…”

“You’re ditching me?” To her surprise, he gave her an understanding smile. Then he stepped closer. “Don’t be afraid, Meg. I won’t hurt you. I just need to spend some time with you.”

“I’m not afraid. Not really. I just…”

“Yeah, I know.” He leaned down, inhaling even more insistently than he had in the bar. “It’s okay to be confused. I’m confused all the time these days. But this feels right, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she admitted softly. “That’s what’s so scary.”

“Come on.” He took her by the elbow and led her toward the elevator. Once inside, he wrapped an arm around her waist while pressing the button for the sixth floor with his free hand.

“I thought we were going to the coffee shop.”

“We’ll talk later,” Rick murmured. “We need to do this first. I see that now.”

“We need this,” she echoed, confused but also aroused.

“Yeah.” His lips descended to her neck, burning her skin with kisses, torching the air with tension. She knew they were on display for anyone in the lobby to see, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the feel of him, so she slipped her hands behind his neck, laced her fingers through his shaggy mane and kissed his mouth eagerly.

He responded with a long, low growl. Then he pressed her against the glass wall and slid his hand under her blouse as though intending to undress her right there. But when the doors opened, his strategy morphed, and he swept her up into his arms and carried her to his room like a groom might carry a new bride. Except with Rick, it was more like a warrior bringing a conquest back to his encampment.

They burst through the door, and in an instant he had her up against the wall again. This time, she knew he wouldn’t stop until they were both satisfied. Her senses were reeling, her mind engulfed with desire, her body primed for pleasure, but still she pressed her hands against his powerful chest and insisted, “We need to use protection.”

“Huh?”

“I have something.” She fished Jane’s condom from her pocket. “See?”

He stared at it, a grin spreading slowly across his face. “Yeah, let’s do it nice and proper. Right? We’ll even use the bed in honor of the occasion.”

Megan gulped as he lifted her again and threw her onto the king-size bed. Then she stared in hungry admiration as he stripped off his clothing, revealing the most perfectly toned and muscled body she could ever imagine. Heat radiated from him, and even before he stretched over her, her muscles were pulsing, her nerve endings on fire.

Then he took her with a fierceness she had never dreamed possible, satisfying himself at the same moment that he brought her to the brink of ecstasy and then beyond it into oblivion.

CHAPTER TWO

Over the past nine weeks, Rick’s life had gone from normal to bizarre. His body had gone from physically fit to powerfully built; his love life had gone from enjoyable to animalistic; and his golden-brown eyes had turned to coal. At first, he had thought it was his imagination. Then he had suspected some sort of disease that mimicked steroid use. Finally, he had realized it wasn’t just his body that was changing. His even temper had all but disappeared, replaced by a hair-trigger aggression that could erupt at any time. So far, he had managed to keep it under control, but at this rate, he might actually kill someone if he didn’t get answers soon.

So now he stood on the porch of an herbalist who called himself Hogan and who claimed to have the very information Rick so desperately needed. After scouring medical journals and finding nothing, Rick had stumbled upon Hogan on the Internet by searching for sites that discussed changes of eye color during adulthood. There had been hundreds of hits, but only Hogan had presented the phenomenon in the context of simultaneous changes in build and temperament. That had been encouraging, and so Rick had ignored other, less auspicious aspects of Hogan’s site. Herbal remedies? Cleansing auras? Crazy bullshit that Rick had laughed at for almost twenty-nine years.

He couldn’t afford to laugh any longer. He wanted his life back, now more than ever. The hours he had spent with Megan had reminded him of the simple joys life had to offer—the sound of a woman laughing, the feel of her skin, the warmth of her gaze. He had taken such things for granted in the past, but if he could get a second chance, he’d never underestimate the power of such moments again.

But not with Meg, he reminded himself ruefully. By now, she hates your guts. Poor kid. She deserves better. I just hope she finds someone soon who can give her what she needs—for more than a night.

He had done his best to restrain himself with her—to make love like a man, not an animal, one last time. Still, there had been such fire, such passion, such spirit in their lovemaking, that they had worn each other out, falling asleep in each other’s arms. They had never had a “normal” conversation,” or any conversation at all. Rick had gathered up his belongings and snuck out of the room just before dawn. No note, no flower on the pillow, no hint that they’d see each other again.

He suspected that their night together had been an adventure for her. Maybe even an awakening. But for Rick, it had been an ending, pure and simple. The monster growing inside him would soon make that kind of lovemaking impossible. After that, he didn’t know where he would turn. To prostitutes, maybe? No, even they didn’t deserve to be used as satisfaction for unnatural lust. He could only hope his descent into depravity would never be so complete that he’d inflict himself on unwilling victims, but given the progress of his disease, could he even be sure of that?

Reminded of his mission, he knocked on the door of Hogan’s cliff-side home. Almost immediately, a well-built, middle-aged man with wisps of gray in his hair and full beard appeared, greeting Rick enthusiastically and insisting that he follow him to a redwood deck, where they seated themselves at a wrought-iron table.

“I know, I know. You have a million questions,” Hogan said with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I made you travel so far, but we really couldn’t do this over the phone. And anyway, I had to see for myself. You understand?”

Rick nodded. “Don’t worry about it. I just need answers. And quickly.”

“It’s almost complete,” Hogan agreed, leaning forward and lifting Rick’s eyelid to get a better look. “They were brown originally?”

“Light brown.” Rick cleared his throat so that his voice wouldn’t sound menacing. “What do you think it is? And when you say it’s almost complete, what does that mean?”

“You are approaching your twenty-ninth birthday?”

Rick nodded. “It’s tomorrow.”

“Well, then…” Hogan sat back, his expression sobering. “There’s no time to waste. Although, ironically, once tomorrow comes, you’ll have all the answers you need, anyway. With or without me.”

Rick scowled. “What does that mean?”

“It means, everything that is happening to you is happening for a purpose. Tomorrow that purpose will be revealed to you. The same way it was revealed to my father on his twenty-ninth birthday.”

Rick’s frustration lessened. “Your father?”

Hogan nodded. “He was a Guardian, just like you. But unlike you, he had more time to prepare. Nine years, not nine weeks. By the time he found out what was going on, he was ready—physically and spiritually. To him, it was an honor. For you, it must seem like a nightmare.”

Rick stood and began to pace. “Any chance you could get to the point? I’m a guardian? And it’s an honor? What the hell are you talking about?”

Hogan surprised him by laughing. “You’ll need to master that temper. Dad always said it was the hardest part. That and the aggression—wanting to rip someone’s throat out if they cut him off in traffic. But in time, he got it under control, and so will you. It’s your destiny. Plus, you have something my father never had. You have me to guide you.”

Over the next few hours, Hogan explained the facts to Rick, who was alternately horrified, intrigued and disbelieving. It was crazy enough to hear that other men had gone through this process and had actually been proud of it. But to hear that the phenomenon was a spiritual one? To be told that Rick was a guardian of all that was good and decent in the world? That was the most unbelievable part of all, especially because he had been so sure he was becoming a wild beast—maybe even being possessed by a devil!

According to Hogan, the spiritual universe was divided long ago into three strata. The Upper Realm became the domicile of spirits who had been tested and found to be good. The Lower was reserved for those who had proved themselves to be depraved. The Transitional—or Middle—Realm became a testing ground for still-evolving spirits, to see where they should be sent for the rest of eternity. Each spirit would be born into a human host. The choices made by that human would decide the fate of its spiritual self. The only way for a human spirit to move from the Middle Realm to the Upper or Lower was through death.