Jane at all times, watching for any threatening moves. But I knew there wouldn't be any problems. On our walk over, I'd warned Jane about Haley. And I hadn't smelled any fear on Jane when Haley had run at us. Her body language was perfect: relaxed, confident, non-threatening. She'd be fine.
Haley's a beautiful bitch, a pure-bred German shepherd without any of the hip problems that can plague that breed. In Gem's opinion, she's "too soft" for police work. But she's produced several litters of excellent puppies, many of whom have gone on to distinguish themselves with Lone Star's K9 patrols.
I bent down and let Haley lick my face, and gave her muzzle a quick kiss in return. You couldn't call what we had love—not in the way humans used the term, anyway. I had sired a couple of litters on Haley and she was fun to romp around with. But even though she was a smart dog, being with her wore thin after a while. You could only roughhouse and play for so long. I needed the intellectual stimulation that only humans and metas could provide. Still, I hoped Haley wouldn't be jealous of Jane.
Frig. Where had that thought come from? I must have been more attracted to the human woman than I cared to admit.
I closed the gate and led the way to the garage. That's where I doss down. It isn't much, by human standards. As I flicked on the light, I looked at the garage for the first time as it must appear to a human: unfurnished, spartan, a place where an animal would sleep. The only furniture was an old couch that I sometimes curled up on, a wooden table and a single chair for those rare occasions when I eat human food, a space heater, and the pile of blankets that is my bed. There wasn't much in the way of decoration— just a few holopics that I'd tacked up on the walls, landscapes that reminded me of the forest where I'd been born.
At home, inside the privacy of the fence, I usually shift into wolf form. It's much more comfortable. But in order to communicate with Jane I'd need to stay in human form. I brushed off the chair so she could sit down. "Would you like something to eat?" I asked. "There isn't that much; I mostly eat out. But I could fix you something."
I opened a cupboard, shoving aside the cans of dog food and searching among the tins for something a human would find tasty. I wasn't having much luck.
"I'm not hungry," Jane said. "I think I'll just sleep."
She sagged onto the couch, arranging one of the cushions as a pillow. I picked up a blanket, intending to cover her with it, then realized it was thick with dog hair. It was also heavily impregnated with my scent. It smelled, quite frankly, of wet dog.
"Just a minute," I said, embarrassed. "I'll get you a blanket from the house."
A light was on in the house; Gem was still up and about. I knocked, and after a moment she came to the door. When Gem answered it, I asked to borrow a clean blanket. "Just for the night," I explained. "I've got a guest."
"Oh, really," Gem said, arching an eyebrow. "Would that be the good-looking woman I saw you bring home? You sure she's your type?"
One of the things I hate about human form is that you blush. I had hoped Gem wasn't looking out the window earlier, but I should have known better. Her senses are as keenly honed as Haley's.
Gem's an ork, and her night vision is excellent. She's short for her race, with a mop of unruly curls and wide hips that she says would make the perfect "breeding bitch." But she's never had any kids, as far as I know. Instead she devotes all of her time to her dogs—her "children."
She could sense my discomfort. Instantly, her body language changed. "Sure, Romulus," she said in a soft voice. "I'll get a blanket for you."
I waited on the back porch. In all the years I'd known Gem, I'd never entered her house. Well, not quite. There was that one time, but I'd felt awkward about it. The dogs weren't allowed inside, and I felt I was setting a precedent by entering the house, even if I was in human form. After a
Haley's a beautiful bitch, a pure-bred German shepherd without any of the hip problems that can plague that breed. In Gem's opinion, she's "too soft" for police work. But she's produced several litters of excellent puppies, many of whom have gone on to distinguish themselves with Lone Star's K9 patrols.
I bent down and let Haley lick my face, and gave her muzzle a quick kiss in return. You couldn't call what we had love—not in the way humans used the term, anyway. I had sired a couple of litters on Haley and she was fun to romp around with. But even though she was a smart dog, being with her wore thin after a while. You could only roughhouse and play for so long. I needed the intellectual stimulation that only humans and metas could provide. Still, I hoped Haley wouldn't be jealous of Jane.
Frig. Where had that thought come from? I must have been more attracted to the human woman than I cared to admit.
I closed the gate and led the way to the garage. That's where I doss down. It isn't much, by human standards. As I flicked on the light, I looked at the garage for the first time as it must appear to a human: unfurnished, spartan, a place where an animal would sleep. The only furniture was an old couch that I sometimes curled up on, a wooden table and a single chair for those rare occasions when I eat human food, a space heater, and the pile of blankets that is my bed. There wasn't much in the way of decoration— just a few holopics that I'd tacked up on the walls, landscapes that reminded me of the forest where I'd been born.
At home, inside the privacy of the fence, I usually shift into wolf form. It's much more comfortable. But in order to communicate with Jane I'd need to stay in human form. I brushed off the chair so she could sit down. "Would you like something to eat?" I asked. "There isn't that much; I mostly eat out. But I could fix you something."
I opened a cupboard, shoving aside the cans of dog food and searching among the tins for something a human would find tasty. I wasn't having much luck.
"I'm not hungry," Jane said. "I think I'll just sleep."
She sagged onto the couch, arranging one of the cushions as a pillow. I picked up a blanket, intending to cover her with it, then realized it was thick with dog hair. It was also heavily impregnated with my scent. It smelled, quite frankly, of wet dog.
"Just a minute," I said, embarrassed. "I'll get you a blanket from the house."
A light was on in the house; Gem was still up and about. I knocked, and after a moment she came to the door. When Gem answered it, I asked to borrow a clean blanket. "Just for the night," I explained. "I've got a guest."
"Oh, really," Gem said, arching an eyebrow. "Would that be the good-looking woman I saw you bring home? You sure she's your type?"
One of the things I hate about human form is that you blush. I had hoped Gem wasn't looking out the window earlier, but I should have known better. Her senses are as keenly honed as Haley's.
Gem's an ork, and her night vision is excellent. She's short for her race, with a mop of unruly curls and wide hips that she says would make the perfect "breeding bitch." But she's never had any kids, as far as I know. Instead she devotes all of her time to her dogs—her "children."
She could sense my discomfort. Instantly, her body language changed. "Sure, Romulus," she said in a soft voice. "I'll get a blanket for you."
I waited on the back porch. In all the years I'd known Gem, I'd never entered her house. Well, not quite. There was that one time, but I'd felt awkward about it. The dogs weren't allowed inside, and I felt I was setting a precedent by entering the house, even if I was in human form. After a
Similar Books
