blood 03 - blood chosen by Tamara Rose Blodgett Read Free Book Online

He backed away and the other Were relaxed infinitesimally. The female Were, who was in human form, had her hand buried in the luxurious multi-colored fur of the one who faced off with him.
    Was she his? Karl's wolf wondered, the thought as alien to him as his new form. It didn't matter, this whole scenario just got stranger and stranger. Days before, a night before, he'd been a cop.
    Now he was one of them. Thinking like them. Posturing like them.
    The two natures were superimposed in a discordant layering on his psyche and Truman felt almost ill with the vertigo of it. He'd adapt, he always did. Or he hoped he'd adapt. Karl thought there was not a lot of patience from the Were with newcomers. Just a feelin'.
    “Slash,” Lawrence said, “Back down... he is a convert.”
    Slash straightened, reluctantly drawing away from the hand that offered only friendship and could never be more. He knew that he now matched the form of the two from his pack and... the new one.
    A red.
    Slash and the new Were gazed at each other from perhaps twenty feet away. “Welcome,” Slash said.
    “Some hospitality... thought you were gonna bust my gonads, pal,” Truman said in a light gravely tone.
    Slash's sudden grin hung strangely on his in between shape, it never translated the full range of human expressions he would be capable of in full human form. Not that Slash thought much of showing emotion. Ever. It was overrated.
    He turned to Adi. Her human form held the bruises of the last several hours. They were many.
    “Who's done this...?” he asked her, then his gaze encompassed the female Singer as well, his question now posed to both. He didn't need the answer, he could feel his brows dump above his eyes, narrowing them in anger. The lightning strike of the scar that bisected his face was a red slash across the dusting of fur. “Tony?”
    Cynthia nodded. “Yes, king dick Were, that'd be him.”
    Slash smirked and it looked like a grimace on a face with a snub snout, the light chestnut fur like reddish-gold fuzz all over his body.
    More naked wolf-guys, Cynthia thought. Wonderful.
    “Anthony Laurent?” Truman offered and Cynthia looked at him curiously.
    “Yeah, how'd ya know?” Her eyes searched his, the revolving green warring with whatever his human color was. However, Cynthia realized with a start that the memory she had of him was dim. All she could see was the once fifty-year old Homer detective was now some kind of mondo-Were.
    A ripple of contained agony crossed his face as he bled back to human.
    So it's not pain-free , Cynthia noticed. Interesting.
    Cynthia couldn't stop the gasp and she covered her mouth.
    Truman felt the frown form between his eyes but answered her question regardless of how strangely she reacted. Cynthia Adams would recognize him now, she'd know she was safe. “Laurent was my primary lead. He had a really old conviction. It was floating around in the wrong place; pre-computers.”
    “Yeah,” Cynthia said softly.
    “What is it?” Adi asked just as quietly.
    Cynthia shook her head, her blonde hair floating in strands. “This dude,” she pointed at Karl Truman, “he's a cop from Alaska.”
    The two wolfen males, Alan and Lawrence, nodded. “We know...” the rough voice of the Packmaster agreed but she held her hand up for silence and he glowered at her, the fur rippling in an unpleasant stripe down the center of a face that held a snout.
    The image gave her pause but she plowed forward at her own peril—the hell with it. “This is not the Karl Truman I remember.”
    “I wasn't a werewolf, Miss Adams.” It was clear from his expression that it was as surreal to him as it was to her.
    Good thing they agreed on something , she thought. Cynthia folded her arms in exasperation. “Ya think? Brilliant no-shittery there, Truman.”
    “Wait a damn minute... sassy-ass.” Truman stepped forward and Adi gave a giggle, slapping her thigh and his gaze slid to her. “What?”
    “You get a pass because