Winter Howl (Sanctuary) by Aurelia T. Evans Read Free Book Online

clutching at emptiness. It was always over too soon, no matter how much she tried to savour the moment.
    Sighing, she stood up, then went to the bathroom while she was there, in part to wipe off the strong-smelling juices that seeped out of her. Now that she knew her friends could smell her after she’d orgasmed, it made her slightly self-conscious.
    If she thought of Britt and Jake while touching herself, the world of possibilities for the others suddenly opened up—maybe they thought of her when they were doing the same. It was an odd, slightly sideways thought. She would not let it bother her. They were her friends, and they were loyal friends at that. And she thought she might love them like that. A little thing like sexual fantasy should be nothing. She washed her hands, replaced her vibrator, and went downstairs to check the sanctuary blog and feed the cats.

    * * * *

    She’d had a wonderful night with the pack. A game of Monopoly could be boring, but it had been worthwhile for the company and being able to bankrupt people and have strange rules like eating a piece of chocolate on every third double or drinking whenever someone got into jail. Not for some of them, on that last part, although it had never been a problem for Jake or Renee. Britt was a surprising lightweight. But of course, any of the imbibing had been optional.
    Leslie had won, laughing in his quiet way as the group had showered him with fake money and promised to do some of his chores over the weekend, like vacuuming the rugs in the house and cleaning the bathrooms.
    No, no one had forced him into doing those chores—he had chosen them himself, wanting to help out but not really wanting to leave the house. He was very much a homebody when he was in human skin. As a boxer, however, he would run and run and run through the woods until he was frothing and mud was embedded in his paws. So having his chores done for the weekend meant that he could work on his book and a few articles before taking his run.
    Leslie was the kind of man—forty-two years old and looking like a fifty-year-old professor—with whom Renee felt completely comfortable just sitting silently in the same room, without feeling the pressure to talk or listen. They sometimes spent hours together doing their respective tasks on the computer. When she needed to use the phone, Leslie was usually so lost in whatever he was writing that he barely noticed. He could not be considered a surrogate father—it was more accurate to say he was a surrogate eccentric uncle.
    Leslie, though, was an early bird whereas she was a night owl, so now she was alone in the computer room with the quiet hum of technology around her. The only illumination came from the computer in front of her and various LED lights from the other machines. She was updating information about the various dogs in the sanctuary, and she wanted to add a post on Butch Cassidy. Butch Cassidy, while an unfortunately unadoptable cat to so many ignorant people, seemed to be vastly entertaining nonetheless. People who stopped by her blog loved him and the pictures she’d taken of him. People subscribed. Advertisers asked whether they could advertise on her blog and her website. And it made her money. Not much, but for a non-profit organisation, a little was a lot.
    Building her website and keeping her blog updated helped with that. She received donations through the blog and the website. Whenever the Chambers Dog Sanctuary had a little press release in one town or another, either through the newspaper or through a reporter on a news station, donations saw a spike. That was always nice.
    Renee’s eyelids were finally beginning to droop when she heard the commotion outside. Grabbing her own plush, purple dressing gown, she threw it on over her pyjama tank and navy-striped lounge pants. Running and tying a knot at the same time, her hair loose around her face, she ran to the front door. Just as she reached for the doorknob, she heard