Read Second Nature for Free Online Page B

problem. At some point, she would have to shift back, and the guilt would still be there, waiting.
    Ally stared at the screen. I'm sorry, J.W.
    J.W. Price was a very private person. Most writers were private about their writing, but it was more than that with J.W. It had taken three years, five stories, and a lot of patience on Ally's part before J.W. had slowly started opening up and commenting on things other than her writing in her e-mails.
    Now Ally had to violate that timid trust.
    She had always considered confidentiality one of the rules of beta reading. That rule had been shattered — as J.W.'s trust would be when she found out. The bitter taste of betrayal had kept Ally awake for three nights in a row. In the end, she knew she had no other choice than to tell the council about the work in progress and to hand it over.
    The blinking of the cursor mirrored the upset thrumming of her heart and directed her attention back to the e-mail she had written an hour ago but not yet sent.
     
Hey, J.W.,
If 'Song of Life' is still giving you a headache, don't despair. I learned today that an old friend of mine is on vacation in your neck of the woods. She's a zoologist, and she's just what you need because she specializes in big cats. She has helped one of my writers before, and I know she would be willing to do it again.
Let me know if you want to meet with her, and I'll set it up. Or contact her directly. Your choice. Her name is Griffin Westmore, and her e-mail address is [email protected].
Take care.
Ally
     
    Lies. More lies. The council had told her what to write even though it was far from the truth. She had never met Griffin Westmore, and the Saru certainly wouldn't help J.W. with her book.
    Come on; send the damn e-mail. J.W. will be okay, she tried to convince herself. The Saru are not killers. Not if they don't have to be. Still, she hesitated, her protective instincts toward the writer fighting with her loyalty to her pack and her kind.
    The chime of the doorbell made her flinch and almost hit the "send" button. With an angry growl, she marched to the door.
    The scent of peanut butter and pines wafted up through the gap beneath the door. Ally stumbled. Oh, no. What is he doing here? Her alpha was standing in front of the door — and he was not alone.
    She didn't recognize the scent of the second man, but the aroma of leather, earth, and a faint hint of gun oil painted the picture of another dominant wolf.
    "Ms. DeLuca," a deep voice called through the door, "this is Cedric Jennings. Open the door!" He didn't explain who he was and what he wanted. He didn't need to. Every Syak knew the Jennings clan. Ally had heard of Cedric only in passing, but she knew his father, once the highest-ranking Syak saru in North America.
    This was not a man you kept waiting in front of your apartment. Ally swung the door open.
    Two tall men filled her doorway, each trying to enter the apartment first. Frosty blue eyes stared down Ian Stewart. Never before had Ally seen her alpha avert his gaze, but this time, he did.
    Unease swept through Ally as Jennings strode into her apartment. She didn't like the confident gaze that seemed to touch everything in her apartment and mark it as his, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her helpless gaze darted over to Ian, who shrugged and closed the door behind him.
    "Tas Jennings." She lowered her head in greeting. Her tongue darted out and licked dry lips. As a simple program manager for a software developer, she had very little contact with the Saru. Never had a well-known tas invaded her home. "Can I get you something to drink?"
    "Yes," Ian answered immediately. He was trying to get his drink first, establishing his territorial rights and his dominance.
    Good. Having her alpha be in charge soothed Ally's nervousness.
    "That won't be necessary," Jennings said before Ally could disappear into the kitchen. "I'm not here for a drink, and you," he glared at Ian, "are probably needed