Dalton, Tymber - Doggy Tales [Doggy Tales] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  Doggy Tales

  Doggy Tales

  Feisty, opinionated women. Hunky, hardheaded, shape-shifting men. In Doggy Tales when the sexual heat cranks up, the fur flies. In these five shape-shifter stories, members of the Tampa Bruin wolf pack (including a panther cousin) find love and claim their mates.

  * * * * *

  Dog Walk: Ivan wanted a morning run. Was that too much to ask? When he crosses paths with Lindsey, he knows she holds the leash to his heart.

  Doggy Style: Genna wanted a new start. Jeremy needed revenge. Neither expected to find love. Can Jeremy save Genna when his plan goes terribly awry?

  In the Doghouse: Jeremy knows he screwed up. All he has to do is convince Genna he's sorry.

  Puppy Dog Eyes: Tessa lusts after coworker Scudder. She doesn't know he feels the same, and it's more than puppy love.

  A Nearly Cat-astrophic Christmas: Ivan's cousin, panther shifter Frank, falls for Tessa's cousin, Kaylie.

  Note: This volume contains five shape-shifter tales. Three of the tales were previously published elsewhere and have been expanded. Two of the tales are original new works.

  Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal, Shape-shifter

  Length: 39,151 words

  DOGGY TALES

  Doggy Tales

  Tymber Dalton

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  DOGGY TALES

  Copyright © 2012 by Tymber Dalton

  E-book ISBN: 1-61926-391-2

  First E-book Publication: March 2012

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Doggy Tales by Tymber Dalton from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Tymber Dalton’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Dalton’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This collection is a compilation of several stories set in the shape-shifter world of the Bruin pack from the Tampa Bay area. Two of them, Dog Walk and Doggy Style, were previously offered for sale by another publisher. They have been extensively revised and expanded for re-release. Puppy Dog Eyes, also revised and expanded, was a freebie. In the Doghouse and A Nearly Cat-astrophic Christmas are new stories. In the Doghouse picks up where Doggy Style leaves off. I hope you enjoy them!

  DOGGY TALES

  Doggy Tales

  TYMBER DALTON

  Copyright © 2012

  Dog Walk

  Ivan Biendino had an itch to scratch, and this was the only way to get relief. He drove north on US 301, away from Tampa. He didn’t care what the hell Jeremy Bruin thought. He needed it. Running on a fucking treadmill and listening to canned nature sounds on an iPod like Jeremy did not give Ivan what he craved. Maybe Jeremy had calmed his inner beast, but Ivan’s still wanted playtime.

  Fucking pussy. “Go run on the treadmill,” he says. I’ll shove that goddamned treadmill up his ass if he doesn’t leave me alone.

  Only a little after eight on a Tuesday morning, Hillsborough River State Park wasn’t busy. He paid the entry fee and drove until he reached his favored parking area, pulling his silver Ridgeline truck into a spot that would remain shaded for a couple hours yet.

  If he had more time, he’d drive up to Withlacoochee State Forest, or Silver Lake, or even Ocala. Unfortunately, Jeremy had ordered him to have his ass back in the office by noon. He locked his truck and looked around. Still relatively desolate. A few early joggers and bikers, but where he was going there weren’t exactly any trails.

  He took off down a path, making sure he wasn’t observed. Once under the safe cover of a thick cypress stand near the river, he stepped off the trail, far enough into the underbrush he couldn’t be spotted.

  * * * *

  Lindsey Martinez couldn’t wait to get to the park. She’d looked forward to this treat for days. Normally she settled for jogging around her neighborhood, but she was dying to get away from everything.

  Tampa was brighter and hotter than she was used to, even though she’d been raised there. Five years in Vancouver, Washington, had thickened her blood and dulled her senses. Screw the romance of rainy days and Pacific Northwest rain forests.

  It was good to finally be home.

  To finally be free.

  She’d only been back three weeks and itching to visit one of her favorite places. How many hours had she spent jogging or canoeing or hiking here? Did numbers go that high?

  She parked next to a silver Ridgeline and stepped out, misting herself with bug spray. She planned a full morning of walking and jogging and didn’t want to be a mosquito smorgasbord in the process. She’d do the Florida trail first, then the River Rapids trail. After that…

  Lunch.

  She locked the car and tucked her key into her pocket. She picked up her MP3 player and popped the earbuds in. Then she hooked it to her waistband, grabbed her bottle of water, and set off on her adventure.

  * * * *

  Ivan streaked through the underbrush, his senses in overdrive, his heart pounding. He didn’t have time to hunt today, especially here, but he loved tracking. About the only thing worth taking down in this area was the occasional wild pig,
but sometimes they fought hard, and he didn’t feel like calling Jeremy to come take him to the vet.

  I’d never hear the end of that. He’d bust my balls forever.

  He caught a scent, a deer. Unusual, because they normally stayed on the other side of the park. But hey, gift horse and all that crap, right? He veered off course, hyperextending his long legs, flying over the ground, blurring the brush beside him.

  Now this is a run in the woods. Jeremy could have his goddamned treadmill. I don’t give a shit what he says. Real wolves run woods.

  * * * *

  Lindsey stopped and took a long drink of water. The day grew hotter, but she didn’t care. It felt great. No more sweaters and jackets all the freaking time.

  She passed a group of three teenage boys, skipping school probably, on one of the paths. Understandable, since she’d spent many days skipping school here, too. She ignored them.

  * * * *

  Ivan made quick work of the deer’s trail, an older doe grazing at the edge of the pine woods near the northern park boundary. He crouched downwind, watching. It would be so easy to…

  He shook his head. Not here. He didn’t like taking deer in this area. For one thing, they usually tasted like crap. The last one he caught had the flavor of a freaking tire from grazing on the highway shoulder all the time. The ones up in Ocala, however, melted in his mouth like prime rib. For another, if someone stumbled across the carcass here, it could cause questions. No one cared about wild pigs. They were considered a nuisance species. But if something started taking down deer, people would start asking questions.

  And then Jeremy would so be on his ass over it. Especially if it made the news.

  He chuffed and growled, scaring the deer. Its head popped up, and it bound away. Ivan’s amused snort started his tail wagging, and he took a minute to stretch before returning the way he’d come. Lots of kinks worked out of his muscles, that was for sure.

  Jeremy can have his fucking Starbucks. Nothing jump-started his day like a morning woods run. Fucking pussy. My boss or not, I don’t care what he says. I need a good, old-fashioned run..

  A glance at the sky, and from the sun’s position he saw he’d probably been out here an hour. He’d need to head to the office and grab a shower before he went back to work. He paused by the river’s edge and drank, enjoying the natural tang. The river wasn’t too bad this far from the bay, but he damn sure wouldn’t be drinking out of it on two legs.

  The whiff of a scent drifted to him, and his head popped up. Nose wrinkling, he tested the air. A woman, not too far away. He had to be careful not to be seen, because off-leash dogs weren’t allowed in the park.

  But maybe a little tracking for fun was in order.

  He silently made his way through the undergrowth as he followed her scent. Then he found her, blessedly oblivious to her surroundings because of her music.

  Ivan’s tongue lolled from his mouth, and not from heat exhaustion. She wore running shorts that showed off her great legs. A little on the pale side, like she spent a lot of time indoors, but damn did she smell great. Except for…eww…bug spray.

  He sneezed and froze, but she never heard him.

  Ivan padded down the trail after her, staying twenty yards behind, enjoying the view of her hips rolling under the blue fabric of her shorts. She had a gorgeous, tight ass he’d love to run his hands over. She didn’t smell like she slept with a guy, at least not last night. No trace of a man’s scent on her. Her red hair was pulled into a ponytail and hung just below her shoulders, bouncing in lively time with her steps. He bet she had green eyes, but staring at her ass, he couldn’t tell.

  And what a nice ass she had.

  Trim with just the right curves, a pleasure runner, not a marathoner or serious competitor. Just enough meat on her bones to make her fun, not so freaking skinny that she looked like a compilation of toothpicks with tits.

  Hmm. Maybe a different kind of hunting trip was in order.

  * * * *

  Lindsey felt watched. She paused, looking around, removing the earbuds so she could hear. Nothing but birds, bugs, and distant traffic. She shivered despite the heat. Creepy. She’d never felt like that before.

  Hunted.

  Okay, I’ve been watching too many freaky TV shows lately. Or read one too many vampire romances. This park was safe. She’d never had a problem here, even as a teenager.

  Christ, thirty and acting like a baby scared of my own shadow.

  She replaced the earbuds and picked up her pace, jogging as she followed the path closer to the river.

  * * * *

  Ivan quickly found his bearings and started toward his stashed clothes when he crossed the trail and froze. He picked up the woman’s scent, and then another, disquieting one.

  He glanced around, making sure he was alone, and put his nose to the ground. Three men, together.

  Closing his eyes, he carefully sniffed then his eyes popped open. They’d smoked crack. Recently.

  Dangerous.

  Swiveling his ears, he couldn’t hear them, but they went the same direction as the woman. With his heart pounding in his chest, he forgot about getting his clothes and wheeled around, trying to home in on the lone female jogger.

  God-fucking-damn it, please don’t let me be too late!

  * * * *

  Lindsey tried to shake the creepy feeling, not wanting her morning ruined like this. It wasn’t fair. She wanted to spend most of her day here.

  She picked up the pace. With her free hand she turned down the volume on her music. Then she heard them.

  Low voices.

  Now her heart thudded in her chest. She sped up, trying to close the distance, less than a hundred yards from the end of the trail and the parking area. She didn’t want to turn and let them know she’d heard them.

  * * * *

  Ivan poured on the speed, desperate to reach her. Maybe he was wrong, but he doubted it. His intuition rarely failed him. He cut through the woods again, trying to make up distance when he heard her scream.

  * * * *

  A hand grabbed the back of Lindsey’s shirt as another yanked her arm. She screamed as the men turned her around, the three guys—had she thought they were teenagers?—she’d passed earlier on the trail.

  “Where you goin’, lady? We want to party,” the tallest one said.

  “Pretty woman like you shouldn’t be out here alone,” the shortest one offered.

  She screamed, backing away, trying to fight them off. The third grinned and jumped behind her, kicking her legs out from under her.

  Lindsey fell to the dirt trail under them. One of the men clamped a sweaty, grimy hand over her mouth. She bit down, hard, praying the asshole didn’t have AIDS or something.

  He yelled and punched the side of her head, rocking her senses, darkness blooming behind her eyes.

  “Fucking bitch bit me!”

  “Yeah, well, she bites something else, I’ll cut her tits off.” The sound of a zipper and then, “What the fuck?”

  That was when she heard the growl.

  * * * *

  Holy Christ, almost too late! He growled, his hackles up, lips curled, teeth bared. He advanced, snarling.

  One of the men immediately jumped to his feet and ran. Ivan fought the urge to take off after him because the woman was still on the ground under the other two assholes.

  The tallest of the three stood and pulled out a switchblade.

  What kind of moron carries a switchblade anymore? Be original, for chrissake.

  Ivan flexed his shoulders, dropping his head not in submission but warning, tensing to spring. The asshole was still close enough to the woman he could hurt her.

  The third druggie sat there, frozen in fear, and Ivan fought the urge to laugh when he smelled urine.

  The stupid mofo wet his pants.

  Serves him right.

  The woman rolled over. Ivan was happy to see all her clothes still on her body, although her shirt looked ripped. When she spotted him, her
eyes widened.

  Ivan winked at her then took a step forward, his gaze on the man still on the ground.

  * * * *

  Lindsey rolled over. Holy fucking shit! That couldn’t be a dog, could it? It looked like a…like a huge black wolf. With a generous dusting of silver throughout his coat and huge grey eyes, he stood over four feet tall at the shoulders.

  Did he just wink at me?

  She blinked, sure she imagined it. Stress, maybe even shock, who knew?

  She wouldn’t question it. The dog, or wolf, had probably just saved her.

  One of the attackers immediately ran. A second stood up and backed off, and the third rolled away from her.

  “Lady, look, call off your fucking dog.”

  She was too numb to talk. She loved dogs, but this wasn’t just a dog.

  It took another step forward, eyes on the man on the ground, the one closest to her. She prayed the dog wouldn’t attack her, and she slowly crawled toward it. It was her bad luck these assholes jumped her, and freaky good luck this canine pony happened by.

  As she drew closer to the black beast, it sidled around her, putting itself—himself, she suspected—between the remaining men and her.

  Only then did she draw herself to her knees and saw one of the attackers had a knife.