Men of the Otherworld by Kelley Armstrong Read Free Book Online Page B

Although I still didn't trust him, I learned to tolerate his presence—especially since it was always paired with generous helpings of food.
    About ten days later, after lunch, while he dozed against a tree, I screwed up the courage to approach him. I was in wolf form and he wasn't, which fortified my nerve. I circled around behind the tree, then crept forward, ears perked and straining for any change in his breathing.
    Finally, I was behind the tree. I craned my neck and sniffed the back of his shoulder. He didn't move. Inching forward, I sniffed his arm and shirt sleeve, then his side and hip.
    He had a rich natural smell mingled with human smells— soap, fabric, car exhaust, processed food and scores more. I sniffed him thoroughly and was about to retreat when I noticed a bag at his side. He'd already fed me and the empty food bag was lying in the middle of the clearing.
    I eyed the new bag. Something bulged within it. More food? Was he holding out on me? Gingerly, I snagged the corner of the paper bag with my teeth, then dragged it to a safer spot behind the tree. It didn't smell like food. But it had to be. What else was a bag for?
    Grabbing one corner, I jerked my head up and dumped the bag. A shower of fabric fell to the ground. I tossed the bag aside and pounced on a piece before it could escape. I snuffled through the pile.
    As the fabric spread out, it revealed its true nature. Clothing. A small pair of jeans, a shirt and sneakers. I tore through the clothing looking for the hidden food. It wasn't there.
    Behind me, the bag tumbled away in the breeze. I raced after it and caught it just as a gust of wind was lifting it into the air. Tipping it onto its side, I thrust my head inside, hoping to find the missing food. There was nothing there, not even the tempting scent of meat soaked into the paper.
    I pulled back. The bag stuck behind my ears. I shook myself. It stayed on. I tried backing away from it and tripped, tumbling head over ass to the ground. It was then that I heard it. Laughter. Not a dry chuckle or a quiet laugh, but a tremendous whoop of choking laughter.
    I caught the bag under my paw and yanked my head out. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, trying to stop himself from laughing and failing miserably. I glared at him, salvaged my last shreds of dignity and stalked off into the woods.
    The next day he brought extra food, so I decided, after much contemplation, to forgive him.
    Each day following, the clothes reappeared in a fresh bag. I ignored them. On the third day, I was in human form when he brought my lunch. He fed me just enough to stop the gnawing in my gut, then produced the bag of clothing.
    Lifting each piece, he pointed at the corresponding article of clothing on his own body, then pantomimed putting it on. I fixed him with a cool stare and curled my lip. I knew perfectly well what clothing was and what was supposed to be done with it. I wasn't an idiot. And I certainly wasn't stupid enough to put them on, which seemed to be the end goal of this little demonstration.
    I laid down in my patch of sunlight and closed my eyes. Then I heard the crinkle of paper and a smell I knew all too well. Food. I opened an eye.
    The man held out both hands, a cooked hamburger patty inone and the shirt in the other. He arched one eyebrow. I closed my eyes.
    The scent of the meat wafted over. My mouth watered. I peeked again. The hamburger was still there. So was the shirt.
    With an annoyed growl, I got to my feet, marched over, grabbed the shirt and tugged it on, first trying to pull the arm-hole over my head, but eventually remembering the proper sequence. Then I held out my hand. He gave me the meat patty. I ate it, yanked off the shirt and threw it back. Unperturbed, he reached down for the jeans and a second meat patty and we started again.
    By the third day of playing this game, I surrendered. It was an uneven match. His patience seemed endless. Mine wore out in five seconds. Besides, I was