Waking Up Were by Celia Kyle Page A

box of medium-sized-dog flea repellant in the face.
    Since she really didn’t think Harper was physically dangerous, she decided to merely call in reinforcements.
    Okay, the truth was Brenna wasn’t a ninja, probably couldn’t get off the floor if she got down there, and her hand-to-hand combat skills included rapid flailing of arms.
    Right, reinforcements it was.
    Brenna kept her attention on her best friend’s smiling face while she dug into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She was quick to unlock and dial. Harper’s hubby should be in on this conversation. Especially if it ended in a new white wardrobe for Harper.
    “Of course, honey. Go team furry. Absolutely. You know I came here for a dog-bite thing, honey. I really just need a few shots of whatever the hell is given to people who’ve been mauled by a wild animal.” Brenna was never getting drunk again. Ever. One margarita had turned into two which had then led to a dozen more and Brenna stumbling home from the bar. Fortunately, it’d only been a block. Unfortunately, it was long enough for some animal to try and make her a midnight snack. Or a 3 a.m. snack.
    She reached up and patted Harper’s upraised hand with her own in some half-assed high-five. It kept the woman occupied.
    The low-pitched ring of her phone filled her ear and at the same time, something changed in her friend’s demeanor. Her eyes stilled, smile sliding from her face, and she cocked her head to the side as if listening for something.
    Connor Morray’s deep baritone reached Brenna when he answered. “Hello?”
    It was as if a switch were flipped. Just as quick as Harper’s posture had changed, she suddenly lunged for Brenna’s phone, yanking it from her hand and bringing it to her own ear.
    Bitch.
    “Connie!” Man the woman could squeal. And she always seemed so thrilled at talking with her husband. “Guess what?” She bounced up and down on her tiptoes as if she couldn’t wait to share her delusions. “Bren-Bren is part of team furry!”
    She winced. Because, yeah, Bren-Bren was not one of her favorite nicknames. Actually, she hated it. If it weren’t for the fact it’d been given to her by Harper’s daughter, she would have demanded the name be banished for eternity.
    Brenna mentally sighed. But Harper made such pretty babies and she didn’t have the heart to tell the little one to speak clearly already.
    Brenna waited, trying to listen for Connor’s response. She didn’t hear any screaming or yelling, so either Connor shared his wife’s delusion or the guy knew how to handle crazy people. Since he happened to be the town sheriff and he was married to Harper, she figured it was a bit of both.
    More murmuring was exchanged, Harper’s eyes dimming ever so slightly but the excitement still remained. The tiny woman’s enthusiasm thrummed through her.
    “Uh-huh.” Harper nodded. “I know, right?” Her friend shifted to her right. “Well, she does have a little bite… But it’s still ah-mazing .” That had the woman bouncing in place once again.
    Amazing? Brenna didn’t want to have anything to do with amazing or fantabulous or fan-friggin’-tastic. None of it. Hard pass.
    Then Harper focused on her and she realized a few things at once: she had a bite on her forearm that hurt like hell, Harper blocked the only exit from the exam room, and someone, somewhere, smelled really fucking good. Like, give her over fifty different types of chocolate coated with whipped cream, good.
    *
    Declan tugged on the vet clinic’s door, hitting the “send” button on a text as he stepped inside. Between texts and calls, he spent more time staring at that small screen than looking at his surroundings.
    The second he stepped into Harper Morray’s clinic, the stinging scent of disinfectant and dog hit him in the face. His wolf growled as the aromas sank into him, his inner-animal hating the presence of other beasts. Conceptually, the beast knew it was stronger than any other