Puppy Love: A Reverse Harem Werewolf Romance (Her Secret Menagerie Book 1) Read online

  Puppy Love

  Her Secret Menagerie Book 1

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living, dead, undead, masked, or unmasked, events, places, or names is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or transferred in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author. Upload and/or distribution of this book without permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law.

  Text © 2020 Katelyn Beckett

  Cover by Enchanted Ink Studio

  Dedicated to all those striving to find their happy place in life. May you love where you land.

  Chapter 1

  Sadie

  I sighed and tried to crank the car for the third time as the wind gusted against the cardboard-and-tape window. The weather had called for a blizzard last night not hurricane-like winds. Though October was a little early for snow, it wasn’t entirely out of the question. My poor car creaked to life and meandered through the front yard, reaching the frosty driveway.

  Calls came early in the cooler months. Whether people were worried (rightfully so) about a dog out in the chill or if it were something as simple as a cat sneaking around, I was asked to rectify it. The county was too broke to build an animal shelter, so my home served instead.

  That meant I had a collection of pets, all of them a little bit different from the others. The big perk? There was no one else for anyone to complain to when the dogs decided to have a howl-off at 3 am.

  I pulled up to the Jenner's house with another, quieter sigh. I didn't want to get out of my warm car. I didn't want to set foot on their property; not after they'd threatened to run me off at the end of a shotgun the last time I'd been over. The law had backed me up and we'd taken care of their chickens against their will. The poor things had been malnourished and too weak to fly.

  The Jenners hadn't been able to afford to feed them. I understood poverty all too well. I was always one injured dog or sick snake away from eating ramen three times a day; if I could manage that. It didn't matter. There was no one else to do my job. The animals needed me.

  "Sadie Faye what're you doin’ out here in this miserable weather?" called a man with corded hands and knobby knees. He made his way over to me, a smile on his face. It hadn't been Mr. Jenner who'd run me off.

  It'd been his wife.

  I locked the car behind me, just in case, and fell into the accented cadence of my childhood. "Amber said you guys got a pup last night? Some little ratty thing, doesn't look like it's been fed real good?"

  "Aw, he's a good boy. Growls at ya, lifts his lips and shows you the cutest puppy teeth you done ever did see. 'Course, he don't look quite right. We're thinkin’ he might be some kind of coyote or coydog. The Martins on down the road, they breed them coydogs you know."

  The Martins on down the road did no such thing, but it was much easier to agree with him than to deny him the decades-old blood feud with his neighbors. "I'm sure they do, sir."

  "You wanna come on in and warm up, getchu some coffee before you head on back down the road?"

  I folded my hands behind my back and looked around the property. There was the abandoned chicken coop, the shed that held their old beagle, the ramshackle garage that always seemed to be just this side of still threatening to fall down. "Is your wife in?"

  A cloud appeared on that man's face. "She done up and run off to her momma's house for the weekend, all tore up over the fact that I wouldn't let her just shoot this here pup. Didn't seem right to do after the kids had seen him and he was so small."

  "It's illegal to shoot wild animals that don't pose a direct threat to you in Clareton County, Mr. Jenner. It's a good thing you stopped her. I'd hate to have to turn her in to the local cops, let them have them have their say on it."

  My accent folded up under me as I spoke. It was something I just hadn't quite killed off in all the years I'd tried. Clareton County wasn't the most progressive or the most extravagant place in the state. The local schoolhouse was still a single class, for all I'd graduated at the head of it. No matter how hard I tried, I still sounded like some ignorant redneck once I got around the locals.

  That wasn't to say they were ignorant rednecks. They were just country folks trying to squeak out an existence. Sure, it meant that trapping and fishing, growing weed and selling the occasional questionable prescription was sometimes the difference between paying your electric bill and not. But that was just fine so long as you kept it on the down-low or the low-down or whatever it was. Sometimes? Both.

  "Well, I wouldn't wanna go messin’ around with your laws, Sadie. Come on in. We'll go see the pup in a few minutes. You look plum tuckered out and it's too damn early for you to feel like that."

  I sighed. Again. God, it was going to be that kind of day, wasn't it? I gave in with all the good grace I could muster. "I appreciate it, Mr. Jenner. It'd be rude for me to reject you, seein' as how you're so polite."

  He held the door open as I walked past him. The house smelled faintly of mildew, but it was in that manner that all old houses do. Doesn't matter how much you care for them or how little you put in; once a house has aged for a while, there's a certain scent to it. And that scent is rot.

  It can be pleasant in an old, homey sort of way. My great aunt's house had been like that before it'd burned down. I missed it every day.

  "Two sugars and some fresh milk off that little goat farm." He offered out a pink cup that looked as if it'd fallen directly out of a Tupperware catalog.

  I took it with a nod of thanks, blew on it, and sipped. The coffee was surprisingly clean and refreshing. I'd expected something... less so.

  "Now like I was sayin’, Louise wanted to shoot this pup. Said she figured it was diseased or infested, that it'd go and make old Henry sick by keepin’ it around. But I just couldn't let her do that," he said, fixing his own coffee as he spoke.

  "That was kind of you," I offered around my cup, wishing I could just go see the pup and leave. Louise Jenner wasn't wrong; if the pup had distemper or another easily spread disease, I needed to get on it.

  He shook his head. "I had me a raccoon when I was a kid. Tore the shit outta me until we made friends. I figure this pup's just the same. He don't know we don't mean no harm. Probably ain't never had a friend in his whole life."

  It was becoming more and more likely they'd caught some coyote and I was going to be stuck rehabbing it. Worse, if it was a fox, I'd have to put it down myself. There was a rabies warning in effect for the species within the county, with one too many showing up on farmers' properties as of late.

  Still, I swallowed down my coffee as quickly as it would go. When I was done, I toyed with the handle of my cup. "If we could see the pup, sir. That would be best. I have other calls to get to."

  He frowned at me and grunted, pulling himself out of his chair and nearly losing his jeans; which were at least a few sizes too large for him. As I said, I understood poverty and I wasn't going to judge him. But I did make a mental note to gift him a nice belt from the trade day sale in the very near future.

  Mr. Jenner led me outside and around the back. I couldn't help but keep one eye behind me, as if Mrs. Jenner was going to show up and shoot me. It was stupid. If she'd run off to her mother's, she really wouldn't be back until she'd cooled down. Our neighborhood was well separated from each other, but the Jenner household fights were legendary.

  The live trap was a well-oiled, well cared for device. It made me feel guilty for leaving two of mine in the rain for the past week, attempting to capture a weasel that k
ept trying to eat my chickens. I was sure my springs were rusting while I stared at the pup within the bars.

  Small, pointed ears led into a face that was entirely too intelligent. His tiny, black eyes stared back into mine and I felt as though I was looking into a deep, thoughtful pit of knowledge that identified me as a potential threat. I stayed back from the white and black pup even as I pulled out my cell phone to get a picture. It was amazing what a post on social media could do to help someone locate their lost dog.

  ...Assuming the pup was lost to begin with. I got the feeling that he was well aware of what he'd done, where he was, and perhaps even how to escape his current confines.

  "You want me to take him with me?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

  Mr. Jenner chuckled. "Unless you're willing to overturn those laws of yours."

  "They aren't my laws, but no. I don't want him put down. If he's sick, we'll do it at the vet," I said, reaching for the cage.

  Inside, the pup twisted around in a knot and hunkered. His ears lay flat and he gave me a look that said he had no interest in becoming my pal. I didn't bother him, instead wiggling out of my jacket and draping it over the cage. My teeth chattered. "I'll bring it back for you once we know something about him. All right?"

  "Sounds good enough t'me. You just watch yourself and don't let him bite you. He's a rascal."

  Without answering, I headed back to the car. The pup got the back seat. I kept a tarp back there just in case I picked up something wild and unassociated with the comforts of modern life. There were a lot of cases like that, especially in the winter, and I liked to be prepared when I could. Thankfully, this was one of those time. I wrapped the seatbelt around the cage, clicked it into place, then headed for the driver's seat.

  The drive home was absolutely silent and my dread grew. Few wild animals would remain quiet in that pup's situation. It made sense for him to be sick. Most parents wouldn't just abandon their pup in the wild. I looked in the rearview mirror. "Pretty quiet, aren't you, little fella?"

  A kind voice could bring around most animals. Instead, I heard a grunt and a squirm as he flopped around in the trap. That was a bit more promising. He should be trying to stay away from me, but I'd have expected more fight in him.

  I hoped that he was just incredibly cold or hungry and not something worse than that.

  Upon getting home, I unstrapped him and carried him into my house. "Bosco, Carrie Ann, Matilda, I'm home!"

  But there was no response. Only three dogs had gotten the honor of running around loose when I wasn't in the house. The rest went to their crates and were let out upon my return. It was then that I noticed there was no cavalcade of barking, no yowls of glee, no twittering from the parakeets. There was nothing.

  I put the trap down and ran to check my gas stove, terror swamping me. I always made sure to remove the knobs so none of the cats could turn it on while I was gone, but had I forgotten in my haste to get out the door? No, the knobs lay on the counter beside the stovetop. And, after that panicked moment, I remembered that my carbon monoxide detector wasn't screaming at me.

  Then what was it? I moved through the house, looking for anyone who had come to greet me. Eventually, I found the giant brindle-and-white boxer mix trembling in the mudroom. He had his head pressed into the corner, his back to the door. I went to him.

  "Boc-boc," I said, crouching down beside him. "What's the matter? Did someone do something scary while I was gone?"

  The dog wouldn't so much as look at me. That, more than anything else, worried me. Bosco loved his nickname, snorfling and rolling all over the ground when I used it. As it was, the dog acted like I'd kicked his puppies. Thoughtlessly, I reached toward him and tried to comfort him.

  Bosco snarled at me, drawing his lips back in a show of force I hadn't thought the dog had in him. Internally slapping myself for daring to spread potential disease, I got up and scrubbed up to the elbow with the soap nearby. The sink was a deep, thin plastic box but it was perfect for getting those bad stains out of dog beds and cat tower parts.

  Those messes came with the job. When you had animals around, there were going to be gross things to deal with. The average person wrinkled their nose over picking up their pet's poop from a sidewalk. I had a dumpster taken away every two weeks to help keep everything neat and tidy.

  As it was, Bosco perked his ears up and looked at me as I cleaned myself up. He came over and hesitantly sniffed my pantleg, then worked his way up the rest of my body. Smiling, I lowered myself back to my crouch and offered my hands out to him. The soap bottle said I smelled like raspberry lemonade, but Bosco must have smelled something else. He buried his big, blocky head against me and slurped my arms until I was thoroughly saturated.

  Carrie Ann and Matilda appeared in the doorway as one, not unlike the twins from Psycho. They were both Great Danes, simply massive in size but goofy in stature. The pair were harlequins, the black and white motley types that seemed to be a favorite for commercials. Though, I had to admit, neither of these two would be shown on television any time soon. They were a little too skittish for that.

  "Come here, girls," I called, my voice low and sweet.

  After a moment's pause, the duo crept over to me. Carrie Ann was the stronger of the two, her mind more set in her ways. Matilda, on the other hand, belly-crawled across the floor and buried her face against me. I ran my hands over her enormous skull, careful of the freshly-healed scars from her past life. Not all dogs got good homes, but the ones who didn't usually ended up with me.

  Whatever it was bothering Bosco, Carrie caught a whiff of it from my clothes. Her ears flopped backwards and she moved away from me, whining at the top of her lungs. I tried to follow her, but ended up with Bosco's arm- foreleg wrapped around my own leg. The girls ran away as I got up to pry Bosco from me and, once I got him off, he trotted away, too.

  It was so strange to not be welcomed home by boisterous, loud dogs. While Matilda was likely to sneak and creep when she wasn't feeling her best or brightest, I'd never seen Carrie Ann or Bosco react to anything as they were now.

  I headed back to fetch the trap, deciding it was best if I got the pup to the quarantine room while I tried to sort out what was going on in my personal life. Maybe there was mold in the ceiling. I'd heard from more than one vet that it could make your pet behave strangely; but it certainly hadn't been there that morning.

  No, the only change was the animal in the trap.

  "Are you some kind of wolf-dog?" I asked him.

  The pup let out a tiny, squeaky howl in return. I kept myself from laughing. The sound often put off wild animals because it was rather aggressive from their perspective. After all, how often do you find yourself reading that someone "barked" out a laugh? We personify it as an aggressive gesture without realizing how we're doing it.

  You learned a lot about human communication when you started dealing with wildlife.

  I picked up the trap and took him downstairs. When I had inherited the house, the basement had been nothing more than a mold-filled nightmare ready to suck the rest of the building down with it. I'd spent months fixing it up, building sun lamps and bringing the wiring up to code to support them.

  As it was, the basement looked as though it were a moderately sunny day outside. Fodder trays stood open and ready to deal with a puppy's particular applications and there were hideaways throughout it. The bleach stomp bucket stood ready for use. I kicked it out the door so I'd be able to disinfect upon leaving for the rest of the house.

  I knelt on one of the larger fodder trays, putting the trap down in front of me. A few feet to my left was an old cat tree piece that was shaped like a tube. It was the perfect place for the pup to flee if he was feeling overwhelmed, but still allowed me to grab him if he got aggressive with himself.

  "There's no reason to keep you in there until your vet visit," I said. "We're going to take it nice and slow, all right?"

  The pup didn't answer. I slid the cloth from the top of the trap and o
pened the door. The pup sat staring at me for a few moments and I had to admire just how cute he was when he cocked his head a certain way.

  All of a sudden, he raced out of the trap, scampered up my arm, and sank his teeth into my shoulder.

  I screamed.

  Chapter 2

  Hudson

  I paced the marble floor, my thousand-dollar shoes tap-smacking across the surface. As the world wound up to its first morning challenge, I stood still in the darkness of last night.

  Somewhere in my mind, the moon still shone overhead. It was the last night of our Lady's cycle, the climax of all Her monthly returns. Three glorious nights each month, when we had to use the bodies She gave us in all Her wisdom. When we, as men, were truly free to become what we were inside, the sky presented Her in all Her full glory.

  And I had lost my son during Her peak.