Dance of the Wolf (1 of 3 free samples)

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COPYRIGHT
Dance of the Wolf by Karen Whiddon. Copyright 2008 by Karen Whiddon.
All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted.

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Dance Of the Wolf

Karen Whiddon

As always, to my wonderful husband, Lonnie, truly the love of my life.

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

“Missing? The show starts in fifteen minutes. What do you mean he’s missing?” Elena Cabrera stared at her older sister, Joy, who worked part-time helping Elena run her nightclub. Even dressed in a black silk evening gown, per Fantasies’ strict dress code, Joy managed to look nurturing rather than sexy, something that irked her to no end.

“No one can find him. ” Joy twisted her hands. “I even called his grandmother’s apartment. His brother said he hadn’t seen him since yesterday.”

They both knew it was only a ten-minute walk from the apartment to Fantasies. Damien usually enjoyed the exercise.

Elena struggled to hold back panic. Ever since she’d seen a man she’d trusted change into something else, her world had been shaky. If men could become beasts...shuddering, she pushed away the thought. If she kept worrying about it, soon she’d be scrutinizing everyone, looking for signs that they were like Charles Watkins.

“I’m worried.” Elena bit her lip. “This is so not like him. Damien’s reliable.”

“Damien’s weird. And now, he’s disappeared,” Joy repeated. “Ever since you fired Dr. Watkins, all the employees have been restless.”

“Restless?” This was the first she’d heard about that. “What do you mean?”

Joy shrugged. “Unsettled. Uneasy. I’ve even heard them mention something about discrimination.”

Discrimination? Elena nearly snorted. As if one could discriminate against a monster! Of course, her sister didn’t know about Watkins. Elena hadn’t told anyone what she’d seen. If she had, the men in white coats would be coming for her with a straitjacket. “I didn’t fire him. After all, he didn’t work for me.”

“Same difference. You let him run his clinic here. Then you two fought.” Joy crossed her arms. “And he disappeared.” Leaning close, she eyed her sister. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Oh, was there ever. But no way could Elena ever reveal the truth. Werewolves didn’t exist. Or...did they?

Belatedly she realized Joy’s frown had deepened. “Elena, what really happened with you two?”

“Nothing. We dated a few times. Nothing serious.” He’d only told her he loved her, and then shown her what he could become. For a man who preferred to be called by his last name, he’d moved into intimacy fast.

Joy knew how Elena felt about rash decisions. After all, Elena still blamed herself for their younger cousin’s death years ago when they’d all been children. Though the family had told her repeatedly over the years that there’d been nothing she could have done to save him, she still carried the guilt inside her. Never mind that he’d been born with an undetected congenital heart defect— the fact that she’d been playing tag with him when he collapsed made her believe she’d inadvertently killed him.

Elena had been a solemn child, a studious teenager, determined to make no waves, cause no one pain. She’d shunned casual affairs, eschewed dating, preferring her studies instead. She’d been the first in her family to graduate from high school as valedictorian, the first to attend college.

Then her aunt had died and, to the surprise of everyone, left Fantasies to Elena. Though running a male strip club had been a far cry from the career she’d planned in medicine, Elena had felt this was another way to atone for the loss of her cousin, that same aunt’s son. She’d dropped out of college and taken over Fantasies, where she strived to be a friend and/or mother figure to all her employees.

Blinking, she forced her thoughts back to the present. “We can talk about Watkins later. I’m seriously worried about Damien. Something must have happened to him.” Werewolf attack? “He’s never been late before.”

“Maybe he went looking for Dr. Watkins.”

Elena stared. “Why would he do that?”

“They were friends. A lot of the dancers liked him. Since no one’s heard from him, maybe Damien thought he could find him.”

Picking up the phone, Elena dialed the front desk. One of the hostesses answered. “Any sign of Damien?”

“No, Miss Elena. He hasn’t checked in. I talked with Bob a couple of minutes ago and he hasn’t seen him, either.”

Bob was her full-time security guard. An ex-cop, he patrolled the place as if he were guarding a harem. Which he was, in a way. Did Bob know about Watkins? Was Bob like Watkins? She had to stop. If she kept thinking like this, she’d drive herself crazy.

“Call me if he shows,” Elena ordered.

After hanging up, she fished her cell phone from her pocket and scrolled down until she saw Damien’s name. This time, she let it ring twenty-two times. No answer. She knew they didn’t have an answering machine. Mama DeLeon must not be near the phone.

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