Dreaming of the Wolf (Heart of the Wolf #8)(34)

The urge to shift hit her fast and furious. Heat shimmered through every cell, through every tissue. She glanced around the gallery, looking for a way out of this nightmare.

The woman with Alicia’s photo had disappeared into a back room. She had Alicia’s credit card, and Alicia had to have it to survive. The other saleswoman was walking outside with the art students and their teacher, blocking the doorway.

Looking for the restroom, Alicia spied a sign directing her down a hall and rushed to make her way there before she had an “accident.”

As soon as she entered the ladies’ restroom and found no one in there, she hurried into the handicapped stall. Normally, she avoided using the handicapped stall if another stall was available, leaving it to women who truly needed it, but tonight she was as handicapped as anyone.

Slipping out of the short-sleeved dress she wore, she hung it on the hook on the door, then kicked off her pumps. Barely free of her bra and panties, she shifted, the heat fusing every inch of her body until her bones felt as if they were liquefying and remolding, but in a flash. The next thing she knew, she was dropping down on all four feet—furry, long legged, with long a bushy tail—a small gray wolf.

Once again she cursed Ferdinand Massaro for having bitten her and leaving her to face this dilemma on her own. Although she wouldn’t have wanted to see what he’d had in mind to do with her if he’d lived. And she would have been in a lot more danger if she’d remained with him because of his connections.

As if she wasn’t in danger now.

Pacing, she stalked back and forth in the stall—still too small for a highly agitated wolf. It was nearly closing time. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been in the restroom, trying to will herself back into her human form, when someone knocked on the restroom door and opened it.

She froze in place inside the stall. Could they see her wolf legs beneath the door of the stall? She backed up against the tile wall. Her heart was pumping even more rapidly, if that were possible, as she barely breathed.

“Closing in two minutes,” a woman said, sounding impatient. It was the woman who’d been talking to the students.

Instinctively, Alicia knew she couldn’t be caught in a wolf’s form. She’d discarded her bra, panties, and heels on the restroom floor. With the shift hitting her so quickly, she couldn’t do anything else but drop them. What would people think? That she’d eaten Little Red Riding Hood? Or that she was Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf all wrapped up in one?

Oh God, what was she going to do? Since being turned, she’d never been in this bad a fix. As her grandfather used to say, this would learn her. She could never, ever be out in public again during the phase of any moon—waxing, waning, or full. So much for not having to shift all last week. She was making up for it now. It seemed she’d never get rid of this condition or learn to control it.

At least she hadn’t wanted to rip out people’s throats, like the old werewolf tales portrayed. And she had her human conscience, so she wasn’t totally a feral animal. And she was a beautiful wolf, not some hideous beastly creature. Not that any of it mattered while she was stuck in a restroom stall as a wolf with women’s garments strewn about her paws.

Concentrate! She tried again to will herself to shift.

Another minute went by, and knocking sounded on the door. Yes, all right. She knew. It was nearly closing time. She’d worked on the clock before. She knew how employees wanted to go home when it was time to go, and how rude customers were to expect employees to stay all hours at their convenience.

“Ma’am?” a woman said, then heels clicked across the floor toward the stall.

Wolves couldn’t sweat, or Alicia would have been perspiring up a storm. They panted when they were overheated, but she didn’t want to even do that, afraid the woman would hear her. Instead, she stood frozen like a furry wolf statue in the corner of the stall, as far away from the door as she could get, her mouth shut tight, her ears focused on the woman’s approaching footfalls. The slight tremor in the floor reverberated through Alicia’s paws as she kept her eyes riveted on the door.

Two choices. She instinctually knew she had only two choices. Bite the woman and turn her into what Alicia was. Heaven forbid. She wouldn’t want to wish this condition on anyone ever! But then the woman would scream bloody murder. The other two employees would come running or call the cops, or both. Then she’d have to bite all of them, too. Or kill the woman. Which would be the same scenario. In the end, they’d put her down like a vicious wild animal.

A rough knocking on the stall door nearly gave Alicia a heart attack.

“Ma’am? Are you all right?”

No, no she wasn’t all right. Please… don’t… come… in!

“Ma’am?”

When Alicia still didn’t respond, the woman hurried out of the restroom.

She was going for the authorities. Probably worried a dead body was in the stall. Would be, too, if they caught Alicia like this—and killed her.

She paced some more. Shift, damn it! Change! Turn! What were the magic words?

“A woman’s in the stall. She was the one who bought Mr. Silver’s photograph. She looked to be late twenties or so, not all that old, but I think she’s died or something. She’s not responding,” the woman said frantically to someone outside the restroom door.