In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of
either the author or the publisher.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged
SCREWDRIVER
An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright 2008 by Kiernan Kelly
Cover illustration by Pluto
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-61040-129-6
www.torquerepress.com
All rights reserved, which includes the right to
reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright
Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO
Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: December 2010
Printed in the USA

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 2

Table of Contents

Uncaged
Glitter Palms
Divinity Park
Killer Love

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 3

Uncaged

Prologue

Static gradually cleared from the computer screen to

show the solemn face of a bearded man of advanced age.
His clear blue eyes were sharp, though, indicating a
mind untouched by his years -- unlike his teeth, which
were obviously dentures, ill fitting and too large for his
mouth, and his hair, pure white and thinning. When he
spoke, it was in a voice made rusty with age that held
the ghost of a Bostonian accent.

"The following footage is untouched and unaltered. It

is the culmination of years of study and tedious,
meticulous research, after decades of dead ends and
disappointments. It is my legacy; my gift to the world of
science."

Derek MacCaffrie had watched the ten-minute long

video a hundred times already. He already knew it by
heart, word for word, frame by frame. It had taken
Derek two weeks and several dozen viewings to
convince himself of its validity, and still longer to talk
himself into bringing it to Marcy Jarvis, the head
producer for the cable news show, The Headline.
Plunking the video down on her desk was one of the
scariest things he’d done in his short career. It was a risk
that might end up costing Derek his new job as one of
the show's reporters.

Or make him a household name, garner him a

Pulitzer, and assure him a place in the annals of
investigative reporting for all time to come. Elijah
Lovejoy. Woodward and Bernstein. Derek MacCaffrie .

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 4

As he slipped the DVD into the player, Derek

wondered whether he needed to update his résumé. The
look on Marcy's face suggested he might need it sooner
than he'd imagined. She did not look either pleased or
enthused, and the possible fallout of her displeasure
slammed a serious dent into his fortitude. His finger
hesitated over the “play” button. He hoped she didn’t
notice the tremor in his hand, or the way he swallowed
hard before stabbing the button.

Marcy arched one sleek eyebrow as she tapped the

screen with a red-lacquered fingernail. "So, what's so
important that you’re keeping me from my ten o’clock
meeting? Who is this guy? What's his story?" Marcy
looked like a proverbial cheerleader with her petite,
perky figure, golden blonde hair, and wide, blue eyes,
but Derek had already learned her personality was more
like a viper's -- short on temper and long on venom.

"His name was Dr. Elvin Woodster. He was a

cryptozoologist. He died six months ago. Poor guy was
in a nursing home for the last six months. I think he had
cancer. My aunt had it; after she died my cousins
descended on her house like jackals tearing at a
carcass... er...” Derek froze at a sharp look from Marcy,
realizing he’d been rambling. He tended to do that when
he was nervous. He grimaced and cleared his throat.
“Anyway, we got this video in the mail a couple of
weeks ago from the executor of his estate."

"A crypto-what?"
Derek forcibly steeled his spine, refusing the urge to

wilt under Marcy's Dragon Lady glare.
"Cryptozoologist. They study mythological animals."

Marcy snorted disdainfully and flicked Derek on his

ear as if he were a mischievous ten-year-old instead of a
grown man. "Myths? You mean, like unicorns and Big
Foot?” She smirked, which Derek somehow found more

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 5

frightening than her Dragon Lady expression. “Nice try,
Derek. Did Archie in Editing put you up to this? Well,
since you work for me, I’ll clue you in to a useful bit of
trivia -- I don’t possess much in the way of a sense of
humor. In case you haven't noticed, The Headline is a
legitimate news show, not Myth Chasers. If you want to
do stories about fairies and leprechauns, go get a job
over there. If you want to keep your cubicle here, I'd
suggest never interrupting my day with pathetic, tabloid
shit like this again." She stood abruptly, tottering on her
four-inch stilettos, and turned to leave.

Derek sent a silent plea that he wasn't castrating what

was left of his career, and caught her arm, holding her
back. "Wait, Marcy, please. Dr. Woodster was one of
the leading zoologists in the country before his
retirement. He wasn't a kook -- the guy practically bled
credibility. Please, you have to see this," he said, hitting
the 'Play' button.

Dr. Woodster sprang instantly back to life on the

screen. "Tales of therianthropes have been documented
in nearly every human culture from Egyptian
hieroglyphics, to the Japanese kitsune, to the Native
American skinwalkers, to the more universally familiar
loup-garou of France. For the uninitiated, the term
therianthropes refers to humans who are born with the
natural ability to shift their shape into that of an animal.
I have spent the last two decades of my life studying the
legends of these creatures, and have found no evidence
to support any claim that any of them ever truly existed
outside the beliefs of superstitious villagers and the
fevered imaginations of fiction writers... until now."

The video abruptly cut away from Dr. Woodster's

face to an outdoor scene. The film was grainy and
slightly out of focus. It showed the edge of a wide lake
and a narrow beach kissed by thick forest. A tall,

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 6

shadowy, man-shaped figure appeared in the upper left-
hand corner of the shot, walking on two legs. As it
neared mid-screen, the figure abruptly dropped to all
fours, then swiftly ran out of the shot. Snow and static
filled the screen, quickly replaced again by Dr.
Woodster's sober countenance.

"What you have just seen in this video was a

therianthrope. What walked onscreen as a man, left it as
a wolf. I would ordinarily be skeptical of such footage,
but in this instance, I was the one holding the camera. I
saw this incredible creature with my own eyes just
yesterday, behind my vacation home in the foothills of
the Tetons, near Jackson Hole in Wyoming, and taped it
using a Sony HD MiniDV Handycam. This video is
final, definitive proof that therianthropes exist--"

Marcy hit the "Stop" button on the player again.

"Derek, have you lost your mind? Please tell me you
aren't seriously continuing to waste my time with this
bullshit."

"Woodster was a respected scientist in his field,

Marcy--"

"What field is that? Nut-ology? Come on, Derek! He

may have been credible once, but he obviously took up
residence in Crackpot City after he retired. This isn't
news -- it's sensationalistic crap. Send the video over to
Bernie at Myth Chasers. He might be able to use it. I
sure as hell can't."

"Marcy, I'm telling you this is legitimate. It’s news...

hell, it might be the story of the century! We're talking
Pulitzer material, here. Woodster wasn't some third-
string, Sci-Fi Channel reject. He was a highly respected,
published zoologist with a list of accreditations as long
as War and Peace. After his retirement, he started
studying these therianthropes. He sat on this tape for two
years. His estate released it after his death, in

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 7

accordance with his will. Why would a man like that
want his reputation tarnished after his death? I think it's
the real deal."

"Then why did he sit on it? Why not claim the glory

while he was alive?" she countered.

"I figure he was still investigating when he got sick.

I’m sure he didn’t factor in developing cancer, or the
need to go into a nursing home.”

“Or maybe his illness affected his reasoning. Was it

cancer of the brain? Maybe the chemo--”

“I checked with the executor. According to

Woodster’s doctors, he was in full possession of his
faculties when he died.”

"Do you honestly believe the figure on that tape was

a... a werewolf?"

"It's possible."
Marcy rolled her eyes. "Check your blood sugar,

Derek, because I think you're having some kind of
episode. Werewolves don't exist. No matter what his
executor says, this Dr. Woodster was probably either
senile or on heavy meds when he left instructions to
release this video. It’s even possible that he didn’t want
it released at all; maybe the executor thinks he or she
can sell the rights to the video and make a bundle for the
estate.” She paused, then sighed, and when she spoke
again, it was slowly, as if to a child. “Look, in case no
one from Personnel explained this to you when you
were hired, we do serious stories on this show. We do
hard news, not fluff, and certainly not inflammatory
hogwash."

She began ticking a list off her fingers. "No celebrity

interviews, no miracle cures, no infomercials for stuff
that'll make your leather car seats look like new, and
definitely no fucking werewolf stories! I hope you
understand, because if you ever waste my time with shit

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 8

like this again, I'll fire you in a New York minute. You'll
be lucky to get a job writing proverbs for fortune
cookies. Do yourself a favor, Derek, and get with the
program. Don’t make me regret hiring you. Is that clear
enough for you?” With an indignant flip of her blonde
hair, Marcy stalked out of the room, slamming the door
behind her.

The segment began to loop onscreen, replaying the

footage from the beginning. Derek slumped in his chair
and stared over Marcy’s desk at the earnest look on Dr.
Woodster's craggy face. Derek saw the sharp mind
peeking out from behind blue eyes, and knew without a
doubt, regardless of what Marcy said, that Woodster had
been in full possession of his faculties, at least when he
recorded the video. Derek remembered the earnestness
in the executor’s voice when they’d spoken on the
phone. She was Woodster’s granddaughter, and had
begged Derek not to use the video if it would possibly
tarnish Woodster’s reputation posthumously.

No matter what Marcy thought, every instinct Derek

possessed told him the video was his ticket out of his
lowly junior reporter’s position on a second rate cable
news show, and into the big time. Move over 60
Minutes. Take a number 20/20. Here comes Derek.

Somewhere in Wyoming, in the foothills near

Jackson Hole, an honest-to-Christ werewolf was loping
around the countryside, and if Woodster -- an elderly
scientist with one foot in the grave -- could find it, so
could Derek.

He grabbed the tape and ran back to his cubicle,

where he picked up the phone and dialed Personnel to
make arrangements for a few days off from work. Funny
how much emotion the death of an uncle who never
existed could put into one’s voice. By the time he
finished scheduling his time off to go to the nonexistent

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 9

funeral to hold his imaginary aunt’s hand at the fictional
gravesite, the woman in Personnel had been weeping
right along with him.

Maybe, Derek thought as he hung up the phone, I

should’ve taken up acting instead of reporting. I seem to
be damn good at it.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 10

Chapter One

Ah, life is good, Jax thought, as he propped his feet

up on the arm of the sofa. He stretched lazily, sprawling
across the cushions to his full length. A plate piled high
with barbequed spare ribs sat on the nearby coffee table,
along with an icy cold glass of beer. The ribs smelled
like Heaven, and the beer was so cold, the glass beaded
with condensation. Perfect, he thought. Just perfect.

He reached for the remote control and flicked

through the channels until he found a football game.
Tossing the remote to the table, he grabbed a rib, sighed
contentedly, and bit into it. Everyday should be Sunday.
Nothing to do but eat, watch TV, and sex up Dakota
later this afternoon. It just doesn't get any better than
this.

The Cowboys and the Packers were squaring off.

Big, tough, muscular men in bright football jerseys, and
tight, white pants ran across the field, tumbling over one
another. A referee blew a whistle, and the action ground
to a halt. A slow-motion film of the last play began, the
announcer describing every move the players made. Jax
cocked an eyebrow and grinned with appreciation as the
screen filled with a close-up of the tight end's... tight
end.

"Jax? Jax, I need to talk to you," Dakota's voice

rumbled from the doorway.

Jax shook his head and waved an impatient hand in

Dakota's direction without turning around. "Unless you
need to tell me you want me to bend you over the
kitchen table and fuck you into next week, it can wait.
It's Sunday, and I'm officially off duty."

"I know it's Sunday, but you've got to see this special

playing on television. It’s on the Science Channel--"

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 11

There was only one reason Jax knew of that would

cause Dakota to interrupt Jax's me-time on a Sunday
afternoon -- particularly for a special on the Science
Channel, since Jax had as much interest in science as he
did in having bamboo shoots shoved under his
fingernails -- and that was if Dakota had spotted
somebody who aroused suspicions of being a
shapeshifter. Jax shook his head, refusing to look at
Dakota. "No, no, no! All I have to do is watch this
football game, and later on, the backs of my eyelids."

"Come on, Jax..."
Jax leaned up on one elbow, and jabbed his half-

eaten rib at Dakota. "As I recall, you're the one who
insisted I take one whole day off from work every week.
You're the one who said I needed to take a break. You’re
the one who accused me of having control issues. You're
the one who lectured me for a month straight about a
man my age needing to be concerned about high blood
pressure, and learning how to slow down and relax.
Well, here I am relaxing, so unless the house is on fire,
somebody's dead, or you want to fuck like rabid
bunnies, whatever you need to show me can wait until
tomorrow." He huffed irritably and lay back down,
gnawing on his rib.

True to his mate's stubborn nature, Dakota swore at

him, grabbed the remote from the coffee table, and
changed the channel. The screen instantly filled with a
close-up of a gorilla's face, grunting and baring its teeth
at the camera.

"Hey! What part of 'I'm watching the game,' didn't

you get?" Jax barked. He jumped up, snatched the
remote out of Dakota's hand, and changed the channel
back to the game. He was not going to be dragged into
playing another round of Dakota's patented "Where's
Shapeshifting-Waldo" game. The last time he had, they'd

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 12

added two more bear-shifters and an armadillo-shifter to
their extended family. He was beginning to think he
should have named the ranch Noah's Ark instead of
Shifting Sands.

"Jax, I mean it! Come on, it's important." Dakota

towered over Jax, his brows knit in a scowl.

Jax noticed that Dakota hadn't shaved in a few days

and his beard was coming in, lending his handsome face
a bearish quality that never failed to send a bolt of desire
stabbing deep into Jax's belly. Jax's body hardened in
response as he remembered what it felt like to have that
scruff rubbing against the tender skin of his inner thighs.

Regardless of the fledgling hard-on molding the front

of his sweats, Jax danced the remote out of range of
Dakota's long arms. "He who has the remote, has the
power," he taunted. "Besides, we don't need to go
hunting for shifters anymore. They find us very nicely
all on their own... unfortunately." He held the remote
behind his back with one hand, and stubbornly stuck the
nearly denuded rib into his mouth with the other,
sucking noisily.

"Jax, please... I really want you to see this segment

they're doing," Dakota said, before doing the
unthinkable -- he walked to the television, reached
down, and changed the channel manually. The screen
again showed the gorilla, this time sitting on the floor of
a cage with its back turned toward the camera.

"Hey, no fair! What are you, a Neanderthal? Nobody

changes the channel by hand anymore," Jax whined. He
clicked the remote furiously, but Dakota had changed
the input, rendering his remote useless.

"Will you just shut up for a minute and watch?"

Dakota snapped. The look on his face told Jax he was
through playing and meant business. Jax would have

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 13

found it incredibly sexy, if he wasn't so pissed off at
having his Sunday interrupted.

Growling low in his chest, feeling both turned on and

frustrated at the same time, Jax sat down on the edge of
the sofa and alternated between watching the screen and
shooting Dakota black looks.

The narrator's voice, generically smooth and male,

spoke. "Harry was captured by forest rangers in the
Olympic National Forest near Port Angeles,
Washington, three months ago. Rangers were
investigating a complaint from a family camping in the
area who claimed their food supplies were stolen by a
creature the campers identified as 'Big Foot.'

"When the rangers arrived on the scene, they found

what appeared to be large, humanoid footprints at the
campsite. Tracking them, they found the gorilla hiding
in the dense underbrush. Nicknamed “Harry” after a Big
Foot movie character, the gorilla was successfully
tranquilized and transported to the Northwest Zoological
Research Facility near Spokane.

"Primatologists have studied Harry for the last three

months, and claim he is an Eastern Lowland gorilla,
found mostly in the mountainous regions of Uganda. His
species is not native to the American Northwest."

"See? He's not really Big Foot," Jax said, rolling his

eyes. "He's a gorilla, Dakota. A real one. Not a shifter."

"Will you shut up and listen, Jax?" Dakota asked. His

forehead creased in a deep frown as his thumb jerked
toward the screen.

Jax grabbed another rib, tore off a bite, a chewed in a

desultory manner as he returned his attention, albeit
reluctantly, to the television.

"Scientists speculate that Harry may have been

brought into the country via the black market as a pet
and then abandoned in the wild when he grew too large

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 14

for his owners to manage. It is not believed that Harry
has been living on his own for long, since he would be
ill-equipped to survive the hostile Northern Pacific
winters."

The screen switched to show a man in a white lab

coat, looking uneasily at the microphone held in front of
his face. "We believe Harry has had contact with
humans before and was treated well by his former
owners. He is in excellent health, and well, he seems to
be toilet trained. He shows signs of possessing an
extremely high level of intelligence. Most incredibly, he
seems to understand the English language, at least at
some basic level." The scientist gave a short laugh. "He
enjoys watching television, particularly game shows."

The camera returned to the reporter. "Harry is

currently being housed in a private facility, but he will
be soon transferred to the gorilla enclosure at a major
theme park zoo in Florida for public viewing. Officials
state Harry will be better suited to the near-tropical
climate in Florida. Animal rights activists have protested
the move, claiming that Harry should be flown to Africa
and released back into the wild. They may file a lawsuit
and seek an injunction against the move."

"A gorilla," Jax said again, polishing off his second

rib. "He's nothing but an overgrown monkey. And for
this, you interrupt my Sunday afternoon off?"

"Gorillas are apes, not monkeys, and what gorilla

does that?" Dakota said, pointing at the screen showing
Harry in his cage, watching television. Harry's shoulders
shook as if he were laughing.

"Monkey see, monkey do," Jax said stubbornly, as a

hollow feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew
what Dakota wanted, and exactly what Dakota was
going to say next. He didn't want to hear it, but also
knew there was no way around it, not unless he keeled

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 15

over and dropped stone-cold dead, face-first into his
platter of barbeque ribs. Resignedly, he mouthed the
words as Dakota spoke them.

"What if he's a shifter, Jax?"
"He's not."
"You don't know that. This documentary is a couple

of months old. I checked with the zoo. Harry's already
there. I think we should take a trip to Florida to find out
if he's a shifter."

"Absolutely not! The only thing I'm going to take is a

nap after I finish watching the game!"

Dakota's smile grew seductive, and he palmed his

cock through his denim pants, making Jax's breath catch
in his throat. Dakota definitely didn’t play fair, although
Jax figured he should be used to it by now.

"Oh, well, I guess no means no. I'm going upstairs to

the bedroom, Jax. I'm going strip my clothes off and lie
naked on the bed. I'm feeling... finicky. I might have to
jerk off. Maybe finger myself, too. Not that you'd be
interested in any of that, not with such an important
game on television and all..."

Guh. An instant mental image bloomed in Jax's mind

of Dakota naked, legs spread, knees bent, a single finger
sliding into his ass as his other hand worked his cock.
Jax's balls began to thrum with need; his wolf awakened
and howled at him to get his ass upstairs and get a little
loving from his mate. "You realize how badly this sucks,
don’t you?”

"Huh, that’s funny. You always told me that I sucked

pretty good," Dakota replied with a wink. He chuckled
as he headed for the stairs.

“You know what I mean!” Jax grumbled. He looked

forlornly at the barely-touched plate of ribs, then sighed,
walked to the television and hit the power button,
shutting it down. "For that matter, I complain all the

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 16

time, for all the good it does me," he muttered under his
breath, as he followed Dakota upstairs.

As he entered the bedroom and closed the door,

eyeing Dakota as Dakota began making good on the
promise, stripping and flinging himself bare-assed on
the bed, Jax wondered if they could get a direct flight to
Florida, or if it would be easier to charter a plane.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 17

Chapter Two

Florida was, above all things, hot and wet. Whoever

had named it the "Sunshine State" had obviously never
been there during the rainy season. Gusty winds were
blowing storms in from the Gulf. Black wall clouds
towered over the horizon; lightning briefly brightened
the sky in the distance, accompanied by the threatening
growl of thunder.

It wasn't raining at the moment, per se, but the

humidity was so profound that the air itself felt thick and
watery; Jax felt like he was walking through a constant,
fine mist. His skin beaded with sweat. It dripped
uncomfortably over his chest and back, pooled under his
arms, and trickled down the crack of his ass; even his
crotch felt moist. His damp shirt and cargo shorts stuck
to his skin, and he knew by the time he got back to the
plane, he’d need to peel his clothes off. I’m going to end
up with adult diaper rash, he thought, trying to pick his
shorts out of his butt without being overly obvious about
it. I’m not built for this climate. I’m a fucking timber
wolf, not an alligator.

They'd arrived just hours before and hired a car to

drive out to the zoo from the airport. It was nearing dark
when they pulled into a slot in the parking lot; they'd
had to run to the turnstiles before the ticket sellers
closed for the night. The storms were closer, the sky
darkening with more than just the night, wind buffeting
their backs with heat as they ran.

Inside the park, they grabbed a paper map and

scouted out the quickest route to the gorilla compound.
Up one narrow, stone path, and down another, they
skirted cages of brilliantly colored birds and pits of
deceptively sluggish gators. They fought against the
current of the steady flow of bone-tired tourists headed

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 18

for the exit, and dodged strollers full of sticky-fingered,
cranky children.

They finally found the Large Primate compound and

the gorilla viewing area. The path was elevated,
overlooking a large, rocky enclosure set at least twenty
feet below, spotted with palms and banana trees. A
waterfall cascaded over a wall built of natural stone,
emptying into a small pond. A few brightly colored
medicine balls lay abandoned here and there, like a giant
child's discarded marbles, one floating in a second pool
of water. Several gorillas of varying sizes sat in a loose
group, some grooming each other, a few tending
juveniles.

One big gorilla sat alone on the opposite side of the

pen, stretched out on a large, flat rock. Whew, he’s a big
boy, Jax couldn’t help but notice, with a slight stab of
jealousy. Jax, himself, was no slouch in that department,
but the gorilla was definitely of the King Kong variety.
Jax judged the gorilla to be at least six feet tall, and five
hundred pounds, if he was an ounce. Jax nudged Dakota.
"Think that's him?"

Dakota leaned over the wall of the enclosure. "Yeah,

that's got to be him. Big boy, isn't he?"

"My thoughts exactly. Just what we need... a jumbo-

sized shifter. Do you have any idea what it would cost
us to keep him in bananas? We really should forget it
and go home," Jax offered. He received an elbow in the
ribs from Dakota, along with a dark look. “He looks
happy here. Who are we to mess with his life?"

"We already feed bears, elk, tigers, and horses, to

name a few of the larger mammals. He's not that much
bigger than any of them, and he's smaller than Oscar's
rhino-form. Besides, if that's happy, then I'd hate to see
him depressed. Look at him, Jax! If he was anymore
down, he'd be underground."

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 19

"Yeah, well... he's ugly. He's going to bring down the

property values," Jax griped. His argument sounded
lame, even to him, but it was the best he could come up
with on short notice, and he refused to concede the point
to Dakota. It was a matter of pride -- and tradition -- that
he argue with Dakota right up to the last possible
minute. "I'm not going to get you to change your mind,
am I?" He knew he was asking a rhetorical question, but
he asked it anyway.

Dakota's smile was answer enough. "Come on. We

need to find someplace to hide until the park closes."

Jax snorted as Dakota snagged him by the arm and

dragged him away from the enclosure. "How did I know
this was going to turn into another covert ops mission?
Should I hum the 'Mission Impossible' theme song
now?"

"Just hush and come on. I noticed a snack stand just

around that bend, a short way down the path. It was
closed on our way here; maybe we can hide in there."

"Hey! Who's the alpha here, anyway?"
"Jax, come on!"
Jax allowed Dakota pull him along, grumbling under

his breath all the way. "Suppose we manage to get him
out of the zoo. Then what do we do with him? How do
you plan to get him up to the ranch? Dress him in a
souvenir T-shirt and mouse hat, get him on the plane
and hope nobody notices he's a fucking gorilla?"

"One, you are such a pessimist, and two, you’re just

being difficult. You know the drill, Jax. Getting him on
the plane will be easy. If he's a shifter, he can shift into
his human form. If he's not a shifter, we leave him
where he is. Look, there's the popcorn stand." Dakota
dragged Jax toward a small, darkened thatched hut. An
artfully rough, wooden sign proclaimed it the,
"Serengeti Snack Shack." The door proved unlocked, a

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 20

small mercy. "I wonder if we can get into a souvenir
stand, too, to borrow some clothes for him?"

"Borrow, huh? You mean steal some clothes for him,

don’t you?”

"It isn't stealing if we leave the money for them."
"Fine. Since you have all the answers, here's another

question, genius," Jax said, as Dakota cracked open the
door to the shack and shoved him inside, crowding in
next to him. The space was very small, and very warm.
Their combined body heat raised the temperature even
higher. Jax’s perspiration immediately increased
exponentially. "If he's a shifter, why hasn't he shifted
and escaped himself?"

"I don't know, Jax," Dakota whispered back. "When

we go back to the enclosure after the park closes, why
don't you ask him?"

"Beep! Wrong answer. You should have asked for a

lifeline, Dakota. The correct answer is, because he's a
fucking gorilla! This entire trip is going to turn out to be
one huge, pain-in-the-ass waste of time."

"You're going to eat your words, Jax. You know I'm

never wrong about these things," Dakota said.

"Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything, pal,"

Jax retorted.

"Not this time."
"We'll see," Jax muttered under his breath, refusing

to let Dakota have the last word. He shifted his weight,
found a position as close to comfortable as possible in
the tiny shack, and settled in to wait. He swiped an arm
over his forehead, trying to ebb the steady shower of
sweat dripping into his eyes. “I hope this doesn’t take
long. I’m starting to smell like the elephant enclosure.”

“Shh,” Dakota hissed, shooting him a stern look, to

which Jax, uncomfortable and irritable, showed a
remarkable sense of maturity and stuck out his tongue.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 21

Time ticked by with inexorable slowness. It couldn't

have been more than forty-five minutes, but the heat,
and Jax's awkward position, made it seem like hours
before full dark settled over the park like a thick,
insulating blanket. His legs were numb, his back hurt, he
felt like his skin was going to melt from his bones, and
he was getting hungry, none of which contributed to a
better mood.

The park quieted, the air filling with the soft whirring

and chirping of crickets and frogs, interspersed with a
few bird calls. Emergency lighting flickered on,
illuminating the twisting paths threading through the
area with amber light, although just barely.

Dakota quietly cracked open the door and stuck his

head outside, peering into the darkness. Jax hugged his
back, trying to see. Nothing moved; there was no sign of
any human presence -- no flashlights, no voices, no
footsteps. Dakota eased the door open wider and slipped
out, motioning for Jax to follow.

Just as they left the popcorn stand, the heavens

opened overhead.

The storm had finally reached them, and they swiftly

learned that rain in Florida didn’t come in gradually. It
was sudden and complete, sluicing in sideways, blown
by the strong winds. Thunder boomed, and strobe-like
lightning lit the path. It only took them a few minutes to
follow the path back to the gorilla enclosure, but they
arrived already soaked to the skin.

At least Jax wasn’t hot anymore.
"How do you propose we get down there?" Jax asked,

as he leaned over the railing overlooking the enclosure.
The emergency lighting was brighter at the bottom of
the pen. He could see the shadowy shapes of the gorillas
huddled at the far end, but the rain obscured his vision

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 22

somewhat. "It's at least a twenty-foot drop, and as I
recall, bears and wolves can't fly."

"We can climb down," Dakota said, as he slung a

long leg over the railing.

Jax caught his arm. "What are you doing? Are you

crazy? You'll fall and crack that thick head of yours
wide open!"

"Do you have a better suggestion?" Dakota asked,

shaking Jax' hand off. “We have to get down there
somehow.”

"What happened to your fear of heights?"
"I didn't say I wasn't nervous, but somebody has to go

first," Dakota said, shrugging his wide shoulders.

"And you think I'm going to be all chivalrousand tell

you to stay here while I go down first? You thought
wrong, lover."

Jax could see Dakota's grin even in the near

blackness. "Nah. I can go. You stay up here... where it’s
safe. You have your cell phone, right? I mean, just in
case I fall and you need to call an ambulance for me."

Jax swore an epithet foul enough to blister paint, and

pulled Dakota away from the railing. The thought of
Dakota lying broken at the bottom of the drop was too
much for Jax's alpha wolf to tolerate. He couldn't --
wouldn’t -- allow it.

What was worse was that he knew Dakota was

counting on it being too much for Jax to permit, too.

"Get away from there. I'm going down. You stay here

and keep watch," he grumbled through gritted teeth. His
voice roughened as his wolf snarled his discontent. "You
owe me for this. Don't forget it, Dakota. I plan on
settling up the debt as soon as we get home." He swung
himself over the edge, holding on to the railing with
both hands.

"Be careful, Jax. It's slippery from the rain."

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 23

No sooner were the words out of Dakota's mouth than

Jax felt his fingers slip on the metal railing. He kicked
his feet wildly, trying to find purchase against the
smooth concrete wall. He heard Dakota calling his
name, felt Dakota's hands clawing at his arms, but in the
next instant, he felt nothing but air as he fell.

Random thoughts flashed in and out of his head as he

fell through space. Love for Dakota. Hope that Dakota
could recover his body before authorities could order an
autopsy, discover his shapeshifting DNA, and expose
everyone at the ranch. A promise to himself to beat the
ever-loving living shit out of Dakota when they met
again in the afterlife for coming up with the idea to go to
Florida chasing after a stupid gorilla in the first place.
Whether there were forests in the afterlife, or if it was
just all clouds and harps. He hoped there were forests.
He hated harps.

As it turned out, the afterlife was a lot wetter than

he'd anticipated.

He surfaced in the small pool, sputtering and gasping

for air. It took him a minute to realize he wasn't dead
and to get his bearings. The medicine ball he'd noticed
earlier banged into his head, and he angrily pushed it
away.

"Jax! Jax! Are you alright?" Dakota called to him

from high above his head. "I'm coming down!"

"I'm fine! Keep your voice down and stay where you

are!" Jax yelled back, albeit far more softly. The last
thing he needed was Dakota either attracting park
employees or falling and landing on his head. It was still
raining, which only added to his misery.

Then Jax remembered where he was -- in an

enclosure full of extremely large, extremely non-
domesticated gorillas. He needed to get on solid land
and figure out what to do next. Pushing through the

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 24

water until his fingers touched the edge of the pool, he
heaved himself out.

He sat on the edge of the pond, feet still dangling in

the water, trying to assess himself for damage. Nothing
felt broken, just a little sore and a lot wet. Hitting the
water from a drop of twenty or so feet wasn't exactly
like falling into bed, but he didn't think he'd done
himself any serious harm. His skin stung, as if he'd
performed a full-body belly flop.

A roar nearly startled him out of his skin, bringing his

attention back to the band of gorillas, only one of whom
might -- or might not -- be a shapeshifter. He turned his
head slowly, looking over his shoulder.

An enormous shape loomed out of the shadows,

knuckle-walking toward him. A huge, domed head
towered over him, supported by massive, shaggy
shoulders and thick, powerful forearms. Jax didn't miss
the large canine teeth the creature bared at him, either.

The gorilla roared again, the sound making Jax's ears

ring.

His wolf refused to let the challenge go unanswered.

He was upset, not only by his fall, but by the gorilla
posturing within spitting distance, so much so that he
did something he’d never in his life done before -- he
lost control and shifted.

Inside his clothes.
He was trapped, struggling against the wet fabric of

his shirt, pants, and underwear, snapping and clawing at
the material. He howled his frustration, rolled off the
edge of the pond, and splashed back into the water
again.

Oh, shit, he thought. I'm going to die after all. He

kicked all four feet, but the material hopelessly tangled
around his body and limbs, and he immediately sank

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 25

beneath the surface. He couldn’t shift again, not without
strangling on his twisted clothing.

Suddenly, he felt a hand dig into the scruff of his

neck, haul him out of the water, and drop him
unceremoniously onto dry ground. He managed to paw
his shirt off his head and kick out of his underwear -- his
pants had fallen off and were probably floating in the
pool -- and finally shifted back into his human form.

"Dakota, I told you to stay up there," Jax growled,

embarrassed by his loss of control. Dakota would never
let him live down needing to be plucked out of the water
like a pup. He looked up, wiping rain off his face,
expecting to see laughter shining in Dakota's dark brown
eyes. Instead, he found himself looking into a pair of
unfamiliar, red-rimmed eyes, and froze.

It wasn't Dakota who'd fished him out of the pond.
Another gorilla, this one even bigger than the first,

grunted at him. It was the big male; the one they
suspected was a shifter. The beast's rangy odor was
powerful, and combined with the stench of wet fur,
nearly overpowering to Jax's sensitive nose.

"Oh, God, please be a shapeshifter," he croaked,

slowly beginning to back away from the gorilla. "Good
boy. Big boy. Really, really big boy," he murmured.
"Play nice with the old wolf, okay?"

"Jax? Is he the gorilla-shifter? Hurry up, will ya? We

need to get out before security comes along." The gorilla
looked up toward the sound of Dakota's voice, baring his
teeth.

Jax didn't let his eyes stray from the gorilla. "Shut up,

Dakota..." he hissed. "Ixnay on the orillagay."

The gorilla roared, a sound so loud it thrummed in

Jax's bones, then rose to his full height, long arms
beating his leathery chest. Jax was certain the gorilla
was going to kill him; that it would pick him up and

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 26

snap him in two like a pretzel stick, when abruptly, the
gorilla shifted.

A tall man with shaggy, black hair stood in front of

Jax. "My name is Kong. Who the fuck are you, and what
are you doing in my pond?"

He was bulky, and looked powerful even in his

human form. Still, he was a lot less intimidating than
he'd been as a gorilla. Humans, Jax could handle.

"Kong? Seriously?" Jax snorted. His wolf bristled,

annoyed that he'd been cowed by another shifter. The
fear he'd felt quickly dissipated, replaced first by relief,
and then by his usual alpha arrogance.

Kong's eyes narrowed, and he took a step toward Jax.

"Something wrong with the name Kong?"

"Not at all... if you plan on climbing the Empire State

Building and swatting planes out of the sky. Good luck
with that, Captain Cliché."

"I don't think I like you," Kong said. His voice

deepened, and he bared his teeth at Jax.

"Well, that makes us even. Goodbye, Curious

George. I'm outta here," Jax said, tossing his head
flippantly. He grabbed his shirt and underwear and
began looking for his pants. He spotted them floating in
the middle of the pond.

"Jax! Be nice. Jeez, I can't leave you alone for five

minutes without you pissing somebody off, can I?"
Dakota appeared out of the rain-cloaked shadows,
dripping wet.

Jax snarled at him. "How the hell did you get down

here? I thought I told you to stay up there!"

"I found a path that leads down to this level. All I had

to do was scale a fence," Dakota said, waving a
dismissive hand at him.

Jax sputtered, but couldn't seem to wrap his tongue

around anything coherent. He gave up and went to try to

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 27

fish his pants out of the pond, only half-listening to the
conversation between Dakota and Kong. Stupid gorilla.
Kong. How fucking corny is that? Not that it matters.
The crazy bastard can call himself The Great Grape Ape
for all I care, he thought, kneeling at the edge of the
pond and stretching his arm out, trying to reach his
jeans. I don't care what Dakota says... he is not coming
home with us.

By the time he snagged his pants and stood up,

Dakota and Kong were deep in conversation. Several
other gorillas, including the one who’d initially
challenged Jax, were creeping closer. Getting
themselves out of the enclosure in one piece suddenly
seemed far more important than arguing with Dakota
about bringing Kong along.

Besides, Jax knew from experience that in the end,

Dakota would get his way. He always did.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 28

Chapter Three

Dakota listened to Jax grind his teeth all the way

from Florida to Wyoming. It was a wonder he didn’t
have them ground down to nubs by the time they landed
in Jackson. Jax hadn't spoken a word since they'd
boarded the plane, simply taking his seat across from
Dakota and Kong and staring out the window. His
silence spoke volumes, though. Dakota knew Jax well
enough to know that a non-talking Jax, a sulking Jax,
was an unhappy, angry Jax.

One of the few things Dakota had to be grateful for

was that the storm had cleared in time for them to take
off. The idea of being delayed inside the small Cessna
with both Jax and Kong was more than he could take.
Just getting Kong to the airport had been an adventure
he wasn’t keen on repeating.

Kong had agreed to go with them immediately. As it

turned out, he disliked being a member of the band of
gorillas -- one of the females had a crush on him and
wouldn’t leave him alone. Since he was human first,
gorilla second, he had no interest in her, but she was
becoming difficult to dissuade.

The odd thing was that Dakota kept getting the

feeling that Kong felt he was choosing the lesser of two
evils. It was almost as if going with Dakota and Jax was
only relatively better than being molested by a three
hundred pound female gorilla.

They’d made it to the front of the park relatively

easily, and stopped at a souvenir shop to snag clothing
for Kong. They’d been in luck -- a cleaning crew was
giving the Paws and Claws shop a nightly once over,
and Jax, being the smallest and quickest of the trio, had
scored an XXXL tee shirt and sweat pants from a rack
near the open door. Kong was still barefoot, but that

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 29

couldn’t be helped. On the road to the airport, they’d
planned to stop and pick him up a pair of flip flops from
a neighborhood convenience store.

They’d gone about four feet from the store when

Kong unexpectedly shifted into his gorilla form. The
material of his newly donned shirt and pants shredded
into strips of colorful polyester fringe and fell off his
massive frame, leaving him naked, if substantially
hairier.

“Kong!” Dakota gasped. “What are you doing? Now

we have to get you new clothes. Shift back!”

“Quit fucking around, Kong,” Jax added. “Do you

want us to get caught?”

Kong bared his teeth at Jax, but shifted back.
“What were you thinking?” Dakota asked, as they

waited for a plainly irritated Jax to grab another
ensemble for Kong from the Paws and Claws Store.
“You have to stay human until we get on the plane.”

Kong shrugged. “It happens sometimes when I’m in

human form. That’s why I was staying with the gorilla
band in the enclosure. It’s easier to stay in one form
when I’m my gorilla.”

Jax returned with several T-shirts, and shorts. “Just in

case, because I’m not going back there again. I had to
pretend to be a manikin so I wouldn’t get caught by the
cleaning lady.”

“Do you think you can hold on to your human form

until we get on the plane?” Dakota asked. He motioned
for Jax to keep quiet before Jax could open his mouth.
For once, Jax listened to him, and he was grateful. This
was potentially a serious problem. If Kong couldn’t hold
to his human form, they might have to leave him at the
park after all. They couldn’t risk exposure to the public.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 30

Kong gave another shrug. “Yeah, I’ve done it before.

I didn’t say I couldn’t... I just said it was hard, that’s
all.”

“Well, do it, then. If you shift in front of humans,

we’ll all be in big trouble,” Dakota said. “Come on now,
get dressed, and let’s get out of here before somebody
sees us.”

Dakota had spent the entire cab ride to the airport

biting his nails, praying that Kong wouldn’t shift in the
back of the taxi. Thankfully, he’d not had to endure
scrutiny by security since it was a charter flight, but he
still had to agonize through the tram ride to the gates,
and the long walk through the terminal at Orlando
International Airport while worrying about the same
thing. It was only after they were safely boarded on their
private plane that he’d begun to relax.

Jax made no bones about the fact that he didn't like

Kong, or that he was annoyed because Dakota had
insisted Kong come back to the ranch with them. Dakota
was glad they'd decided to charter a private flight back
home. It was a Cessna, owned and flown by a condor-
shifter whose services they’d used on other occasions.
There was no telling what might have happened if Jax
had had to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Kong for
roughly five hours on a commuter flight.

Then again, Jax didn't really like anybody... not at

first, anyway. He'd warm up to Kong, and vice-versa.
Dakota was sure of it. At least, he hoped so, although he
had reason to harbor doubts. God knew, he wasn't even
sure if he could tolerate Kong for very long.

Kong was sitting a few rows behind them in his

gorilla-form, chewing on a seat cushion/floatation
device.

Dakota bit his lip, stealing glances at him. Maybe Jax

has a point this time. He's going to be a handful, that's

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 31

for sure, he thought. I don’t think he’s quite right in the
head.

They'd quickly run out of T-shirts and shorts as they

found out Kong often shifted without warning,
shredding them to bits of colorful polyester blend. Also,
when he shifted, he tended to revert fully to gorilla-like
behavior. It was bad enough on terra firma, but it was
more than a little unnerving when it happened twenty
thousand feet in the air on a small, suddenly fragile-
appearing, Cessna.

Spontaneous shifting wasn't the worst of it, either.

Even in his human form, Kong seemed a little bit... off.

It began when Jax opened the bag of trail mix he'd

snagged from a vending machine in the airport terminal.
Kong had sniffed the air once, emitted an ear-piercing
shriek, and leaped over four rows of seats to the back of
the plane. "No bananas!" he'd screamed.

"What in the blue hell is wrong with him now?" Jax

had asked around a mouthful of half-masticated nuts and
dried fruit.

Dakota jumped to his feet and hurried to the back of

the plane where Kong crouched behind the last row of
seats. "Kong? Kong, what's wrong?"

"I'm allergic to bananas! Hives. Itchy. Swollen eyes.

Can't breathe. No bananas!" Kong had yelled, and then
shifted to his gorilla form. The plane actually dipped
from the sudden influx of additional weight.

"Jax, ditch the trail mix!" Dakota shouted.
Jax, of course, had calmly continued eating. Damn

him.

It took the better part of an hour for Kong to calm

down and shift back to his man-form. When he did, it
was as if the entire "banana crisis" hadn't happened. He
sat in a seat, completely oblivious to the fact he was
totally naked, and began to leaf through an in-flight

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 32

magazine. "Ooh, look... there's a new ride opened at
Disneyworld."

They soon found out that while Kong might be

allergic to bananas, he had an inexplicable fondness for
the "Banana Boat Song."

"Come Mister Tally Man, tally me bananas," Kong

suddenly belted out at the top of his voice, "Daylight
come and me wanna go home." He was off key, too.
Dakota mentally added "tone deaf" to the growing list of
Kong's liabilities.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and tried to

reassess the situation. In essence, they had a gorilla-
shifter who had little control over his body, seemed a
little crazy at the best of times, and was allergic to
bananas.

They could handle it. No sweat.
Yeah, life is going to be very, very interesting when

we get home. His eyes cut toward Jax, whose face had
crumpled into a frown the moment he realized Kong was
coming with them whether he wanted Kong to, or not,
and hadn't relaxed since. I am going to have to spend a
lot of time in bed to keep Jax from losing his mind,
Dakota thought, then smiled in spite of his worries. Not
that having -- pardon the expression -- wild monkey sex
with Jax is such a hardship.

At least Kong didn't seem violent, even in his gorilla-

form. He had, after all, saved Jax's life twice -- first from
being beat on by a true gorilla, and then from drowning.

Yeah, things will work out, Dakota thought. I hope.

He picked up the air-to-land phone and called the ranch.
"Ghost? Hey, man. Yeah, we're on our way back. How's
everything at the ranch?" He smiled as he heard Ghost
tell him everything was fine. "Good, that's good." He
listened for another minute, then cast another look back
at Kong. "Yeah, he's a shifter, alright. We're bringing

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 33

him back with us. Listen, Ghost, do me a favor. Grab
Aiden, head over to the U-Haul in Jackson Hole, and
rent a truck. Meet us at the airport. I'll explain later." He
ignored Jax's disgruntled snort. "Yeah. See you in a few
hours."

"Everything okay at home?" Jax asked. It was only

the second full sentence he'd uttered since boarding the
plane, and the first one that was actually civil.

Dakota nodded. "Yeah. Ghost says it’s business as

usual. I had him rent a truck to meet us at the airport. All
we’d need is for Kong to shift while riding in the
backseat of Ghost’s Hummer and rip the damn thing
apart. Ghost would kill him, and then us, for bringing
him.”

“You do realize that sometime, somehow in the not-

so-distant future, I am going to have the opportunity to
say ‘I told you so,’ right? And that, since I’ve once again
let you have your own way regardless of my objections,
I reserve the right to say it often and loudly?”

Dakota sighed and cast another look over his

shoulder at Kong. He lowered his voice to a barely
audible whisper. “As much as I hate to say it, you might
be right this time, Jax. He does seem a little... peculiar,
doesn’t he?”

“Peculiar? He’s fucking bananas.”
“Jax!” Dakota admonished, barely resisting cracking

a grin. “Bad puns aside, where do you think we should
put him when we get back? I shudder to think of what
he’d do to one of the spare rooms at the house. We don’t
have any private cabins available right now, and we
can’t turn him loose on the folks in the bunkhouse -- at
least not yet.”

“You insisted on bringing him. You figure out where

to keep him,” Jax said, sitting back and crossing his
arms over his chest. It was obvious that he was enjoying

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 34

Dakota’s discomfiture at having second thoughts. Damn
smug wolf.

“He’s not that bad,” Dakota contended, hedging, not

wanting to completely admit he might have been a little
hasty in bringing Kong to the ranch. “Maybe we can put
him in the barn loft for now, until he gets himself under
better control. It’s not winter yet, so it’ll be warm
enough up there, even at night, and the hay will make a
soft enough bed. He can eat with us in the house, or
down at the mess hall.”

“Day-O! Day-ay-ay-O!” Kong sang, his badly off-

key voice reverberating inside the small aircraft.

Dakota winced and barely resisted covering his ears

with his hands. “Maybe we should soundproof the loft,
first.”

Jax snorted. “There’s not enough insulation in the

free world to keep out that racket. We’ll be lucky if
we’re all not stone-cold deaf before winter.”

Dakota rolled his eyes, but as Kong launched into the

second verse of The Banana Boat Song -- for the sixth
or seventh time, even louder and more off key (Dakota
wasn’t even sure how that was possible) than before --
he made a mental note to add ear plugs to the list of
things he’d be ordering for the ranch.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 35

Chapter Four

The tiny, apple red Smart Car bucked and wheezed as

it navigated the narrow, steep and twisting road
threading through the mountains. The Grand Tetons
were truly beautiful, magnificent in fact, but they had
little patience for rental cars like the tin-can-on-wheels
Derek had been given at the airport.

In theory, the Smart Car was environmentally-

friendly, unfortunately, the environment didn’t love it
back. The car just wasn’t built for the rough roads
common in this part of the country. It was the only car
the rental agency had available for the next few days, or
so the smug salesman had told him -- after Derek
rejected her offer for dinner and drinks.

Bitch.
He felt as if his ass was beaten black-and-blue from

bouncing on the narrow, uncomfortable seat all the way
from Jackson to this godforsaken area outside of the tiny
mountain town of Cedar Creek. His muscles ached as if
he’d scooted all the way up there on his butt, and it was
all the fault of the bleached blonde, big boobed, spiteful,
nymphomaniac airhead at the rental desk. He made a
mental note to contact Eric, a reporter he knew for the
Travel Network, and urge him to do an exposé on the
sadistic car rental salespeople at the Jackson Airport
Rent-A-Jalopy who preyed on poor, innocent reporters
who made the mistake of turning down -- nicely, mind
you -- a dinner date with them.

His second unpleasant surprise had come when he’d

finally reached Cedar Creek, the town closest to the
point where Dr. Woodster had filmed the werewolf, and
found out that there was only one motel in town, and
that it was closed for renovations.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 36

He’d had to park at the town’s sole gas station to fill

up and then beg to use an outlet to charge his battery for
the trip up into the mountains, which in turn had
provided a laugh for the pair of grizzled grease monkeys
who’d watched him do it.

“That thing run on double-A or triple A batteries?”

one had asked, elbowing the other. His teeth looked
incredibly white against his grime-streaked face.

“Nah, looks like you would have to wind it up with a

key, like a kiddie car,” the other answered, slapping his
knee.

“Ain’t the circus going to miss their clown car,

mister?” the first man asked, wiping his hands with a rag
that may have at one time been white, but was now so
thick with grime it was nearly black.

Derek bit his tongue. After all, there was nothing he

liked better than risking his job, spending what little
savings he’d managed to squirrel away on a plane ticket,
then spending hours trapped in a car that felt as if he was
riding on a fistful of Ginsu knives, all in order to provide
a laugh for a pair of ancient mechanics who’d probably
worked on the first fucking Ford to roll off the assembly
line.

He put the two old geezers out of his mind and tried

to concentrate on his dilemma. Now what was he
supposed to do? There was no motel within a reasonable
driving distance from Cedar Creek -- not that the
thought of driving back down the mountain held any
appeal to his sore rump, even if there were -- no bed-
and-breakfasts, and no short-term rental apartments
available. He couldn’t even sleep in the damn car unless
he folded himself up like an origami paper doll.

He’d just have to rough it.
Before he left town, he stopped at the local dry goods

store and bought a supply of power bars, a dozen bottles

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 37

of water, a plastic tarp, and a sleeping bag. It wasn’t
much, but it would have to do. There was no way he was
turning back. He was convinced, thoroughly and
wholeheartedly, down to the marrow of his junior
reporter bones, that he was on to the story of the century.
Somewhere up here in these wild and beautiful
mountains was a living, breathing werewolf, and Derek
was determined to find it if he had to sleep, eat, and shit
in the woods like a goddamn bear.

Then his cell phone began to beep repeatedly, telling

him it had a low battery. He didn’t realize he’d forgotten
to pack his car charger until after he went to look for it,
tearing apart his overnight bag.

Great. Just great. He’d better let somebody know

where he was, just in case.

Picking it up, he quickly dialed Marcy’s office

number. He got her secretary. “Ursula? It’s Derek. I
wanted to call to tell Marcy--"

“Derek who?” Ursula was a dried up husk of a

woman who would come in runner up to Marcy, herself,
in a Bitch of the Universe contest.

Derek sighed. “MacCaffrie . I work there, Ursula.

You see me almost every day. Listen, my cell phone is
about to die. Tell Marcy that I got a lead on the story I
was working on, and I had to go check it out. I’m in
Wyoming, in a town called Cedar Creek, near Jackson
Hole. I’m heading up into the mountains to Dr.
Woodster’s house. Tell her I know she didn’t want me
chasing this story, but she’s going to be a very happy
woman when I get back.”

“Alright, I’ve got it. Derek MacCain, out on a story.”
“MacCaffrie . Derek MacCaffrie ,” Derek said

tiredly, but he was speaking to dead air. Ursula had hung
up.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 38

It was just as well. His phone chose that moment to

die.

Thank goodness for the car’s GPS. He’d plugged Dr.

Woodster’s former address into the small unit, and was
being guided by an anonymous electronic voice to his
destination. It wasn’t much, but at least it would be a
starting point for his search. It was the only thing that’d
gone right for him since he stepped off the plane from
LA.

He pressed the “talk” button on his GPS Navigator. A

slightly stilted, feminine voice immediately responded.
“Go straight, four-point-three miles. Turn left on Powers
Trail toward destination.”

The car chose that moment to hit an especially

vicious pothole, bucking so hard he could swear all four
tires left the ground at once. He felt the jolt shoot up his
spine to the back of his head, producing an instant
headache.

Only another four miles, he wearily promised

himself. Then you can finally pry yourself free from this
fiberglass matchbox and stretch out.

Four more miles. At the rate he was going, it was

going to feel like four thousand.

Every inch seemed to crawl by, branding his ass with

a new black-and-blue, until finally the GPS’s voice told
him to prepare to turn left onto Powers Trail.

He nearly passed it by.
Powers Trail was exactly that -- a trail. It was an

unpaved, dirt road without signage, choked with weeds.
He turned onto it, immediately wishing he’d parked and
walked. The car protested every inch of the road,
creaking and bouncing so hard that Derek hit his head
on the roof several times.

The road slowly wound its way down the side of the

mountain for a half-mile or so until the forest finally

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 39

cleared, opening onto a sloping valley that edged the
most beautiful lake Derek had ever seen.

Wow, he thought, putting the car in park and gazing

out the window at the panorama before him. This was
almost worth the beating my ass took getting here.

The mountains ringed the lake like granite,

snowcapped sentinels, and were reflected so clearly in
the crystal waters of the lake that it was hard to tell
where the land ended and where the water began. Above
him spread a seamless, azure sky; below him the color
was perfectly reflected in the water. The far side of the
lake was rimmed with thickly packed forest, so dark a
green it looked black in the distance. From what Derek
could see, there was only one manmade structure on the
lake -- a small cottage set back a dozen yards from the
shore, nearly directly across the lake from where Derek
sat.

It was Dr. Woodster’s retirement home. It had to be.
It was from the tiny deck behind the cottage that Dr.

Woodster had filmed the werewolf. Derek thought he
recognized the lake and narrow beach as the same from
the video. Excitement began to thrum in his veins as he
realized he’d nearly reached the end of his journey. In
another few minutes, he could park the car, stretch out,
and begin his investigation in earnest.

He was grinning widely as he shifted the car back

into drive and resumed its snail pace over the trail.
Nearly a half hour later found him still negotiating the
narrow road leading toward Dr. Woodster’s home. The
rough trail necessitated him going extremely slowly, but
every foot gained fueled his excitement.

He was so keyed up that he barely felt the sharp

bumps and bone-jolting jerks anymore, at least, not until
he hit a hole so deep and wide that the entire car slid
nose-deep inside it.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 40

Derek screamed, his hands gripping the steering

wheel in white-knuckled fright, seized by the unrealistic
fear that he was falling over the edge of the mountain.
He found himself pitched forward at a sharp angle; the
only thing keeping gravity from flinging him into the
windshield was his safety belt.

Luckily, the hole was just deep enough to swallow

half the car, but that was half again too deep to suit
Derek. After a few long, deep breaths, he calmed down
and unbelted himself, opened the door, and carefully
climbed out to survey the damage.

Nearly the entire front end of the car was inside the

hole. The back tires hung uselessly in the air. Small bits
of gravel and dirt continued to pour into the fissure from
the trail.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, walking to the opposite side of

the hole, as if the damage wouldn’t appear as severe
from that angle.

It did.
He grimaced and walked to the back of the car. He

tilted his head as he considered the back bumper. “It’s a
fucking Smart Car. They’re supposed to be lightweight
for better gas mileage. How much can it possibly
weigh?” he wondered. He bent down and hooked his
fingers under the car’s bumpers, pulling with all his
might.

The car didn’t budge an inch. His fingers slipped, and

he fell backwards, landing on his already overly sore
ass.

“Shit! Well, you’ve done it now, MacCaffrie. You’re

miles and miles from any form of civilization. Your cell
phone is dead, nobody knows where you’ve gone, and
now your only viable means of transportation has been
eaten by a giant fucking hole. Nice going, you jackass.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 41

He carefully lowered himself into the hole and dug

his water and power bars and his overnight bag out of
the car. The car groaned and slipped another inch deeper
into the hole, accompanied by another skittle of scree.
He quickly climbed out before it decided to bury itself,
and take him with it.

Guzzling a bottle of water, he thought over his

choices. They were extremely limited. One, he could
backtrack up to the road, then hike the fifty miles or so
back into town. He didn’t remember passing another car
on the way up; the probability of hitchhiking was slim to
none. From there, he could call friends and beg rescue
from this godforsaken corner of Wyoming. He could
tuck tail and go back to his desk at The Headline and be
content to forever be a junior reporter.

Two, he could man-up and hike the rest of the way to

Dr. Woodster’s cabin. He had enough power bars and
water to last in the wilderness for at least two days,
longer if he could find a clean source of water. He could
spend his time tracking down evidence of the werewolf.
When his food and water gave out -- hopefully after he
had the proof he sought -- he could resort to Plan A.

There really was no other choice, was there?
He stuffed the remaining water and power bars into

his overnight bag, hefted it to his shoulder, and began
walking in the direction of Dr. Woodster’s cabin.

***

Marcy Jarvis was having one of the shittiest weeks

she’d ever experienced. First, her new flunky, Derek
MacCaffrie , had disappeared, supposedly to attend a
funeral, which meant she’d had to sort her own mail, get
her own coffee, and -- horrors! -- write the last minute
corrections for this week’s script. Then, to top it all off,

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 42

she’d broken the heel of her favorite pair of Prada
pumps.

Now this.
Walter Vicks, the head of programming for the

World News Channel, home of The Headline, had
summoned her up to his posh penthouse office. She
knew immediately that it couldn’t be good news. Walter
never held meetings in the middle of the day, before
Happy Hour. Never.

When she’d been ushered into his office, she’d found

him sitting behind his hideous, monstrosity of a
mahogany desk. She’d always thought Walter was
seriously overcompensating for something by using that
desk. It was enormous, dominating the room enough to
make it seem claustrophobic, even though Walter’s
office was easily four times as large as hers.

He watched her walk toward him, his beady, black

eyes centered somewhere roughly between her belly
button and collarbone, and she barely resisted snapping
her fingers and pointing out that her eyes were not
located on her tits. Without offering her a seat, he slid a
computer printout over the desk toward her.

“Marcy, would you care to explain this?” he’d asked.
“What is it?” She eyed the sheet of numbers. Oh.

Ratings. Shit. Even at a quick glance, she could see the
downward spiral from last May’s sweeps through today.
“Well, I’m sure that most of this is due to Larry’s
Larder, the new cooking show you insisted be put into
the lineup, or that children’s cartoon news program,
Kiddie Korner. I told you before that we have an
educated, discriminating viewership who aren’t going to
waste their time watching trash--"

He cut her off by banging the flat of his hand on the

desk, making her jump. “I had this report run especially
for this meeting. These numbers reflect ratings solely for

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 43

The Headline. Your show has plummeted into the
bottom five of our lineup.”

She snatched up the paper, looking at it more closely.

“That’s impossible!”

“The numbers don’t lie. It seems that this ‘educated,

discriminating viewership’ of yours are tuning out in
record numbers, and I can understand why. I watched
the last half dozen episodes of your show, Marcy. I was
nearly bored into a catatonic state.”

“We’re not here to entertain the masses. We deal

with serious issues, Walter. What would you suggest we
do? Put on clown pants and twist balloon animals while
we report the news?”

Those beady eyes narrowed even more, although she

wouldn’t have thought it possible without them
disappearing into his head altogether. “If I thought for
one minute that it would improve your ratings, I’d have
the anchors in floppy shoes and fright wigs before you
could blink. Ratings translate into advertising dollars.
Several of your advertisers are inquiring about
purchasing another time slot. Some have even hinted
about moving to another network!” He stabbed a finger
in her direction. “Now, I’ll tell you what the problem is,
Marcy. You’re audience is bored! Even educated people
get fed up with dry, dull reporting, and stories that are
nothing but doom and gloom.”

“What are you saying? That you want us to start

doing fluff?” She accented the last word as if it tasted
foul on her tongue. It did. She’d spent the better part of
her career distancing herself from the trashy sort of crap
they shoveled out on other shows. Now her boss wanted
to shove her hip deep in the manure pile with the rest of
prime time?

“Yes. Not the entire show, of course, but I want at

least one lighter story per episode. Get to it. I want to

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 44

see a marked improvement in the ratings by next month,
or I’m pulling the plug on the show.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. By the time he curtly

dismissed her, her jaws were aching from her grinding
her teeth, and she had the beginnings of a migraine
hammering behind her eyes. Fluff. Garbage! Well, if
that was the kind of story he wanted her to taint her
show with then he could find someone else. She
wouldn’t do it. She’d quit! After all, she had her
principles... her values... her reputation to think about.

Her mortgage for the new house in Malibu.
Her car payments for the Jag.
Her platinum credit cards.
Her newest boy toy, the one who looked like a young

Brad Pitt and fucked like the Energizer Bunny.

All of which cost her big money to maintain, money

she’d no longer have if she quit or the show was
cancelled.

Sighing and rubbing her temples, she resigned herself

to finding some flimsy “upbeat” piece to film for the
next show.

She stalked down the hallway, ignoring the reporters,

assistants and interns who jumped out of her path like
frightened rabbits, her mind turned inward. What made
for good fluff these days? Something uplifting, she
supposed with a sneer. A story about a do-gooder
feeding the homeless masses, or raising money for
whatever cause was popular this week like saving the
habitat of the rare, purple-backed fuckpecker, or some
such equally inane drivel.

She entered the main programming room and paused,

her vision drifting across the maze of cubicles.

Gloria Heinfeld, a pert, brunette intern from the

University of Southern California, yipped when she
spotted Marcy and ducked down behind her glass

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 45

partition. Across the room, Richard Beck, another intern,
also saw Marcy. He executed a perfect one-eighty,
spinning on his heel and power-walking off in the
opposite direction. Whispers swiftly traveled across the
room from cubicle to cubicle, hushed voices warning
each other of her approach. Ordinarily, such fear would
tilt Marcy’s lips in a smug smile; they should be leery of
her. She held the power of life and death over their
fledgling careers. One word from her, and they’d find
themselves standing at the curb holding a pink slip.

Her eyes lit on Derek MacCaffrie ’s cubicle. Derek

bothered her. He was bright, eager, ambitious, talented...
he reminded her too much of herself, the way she’d been
ten years ago, when she was first starting out in the
business. Her instincts told her he was a threat. She’d
been contemplating giving him the heave-ho, kicking his
sweet little ass to the curb before he could begin to
undermine her position, but had held back because
Derek had been hired by Walter Vicks. Vicks, who
thought Derek walked on fucking water, and might not
appreciate her firing his star protégé.

Maybe I should tell Vicks that Wonder Boy

MacCaffrie believes in fucking werewolves, she thought,
sniffing in disdain. She turned away, but froze a
heartbeat later. Werewolves... That’s it! That’s what I
can use as a fluff story for this week’s show. The
highbrow, villainous world of academia versus the poor,
old, misunderstood, dead scientist and his posthumous
discovery! It’s perfect. She darted into Derek’s cubicle
and began hunting for his notes, flipping through
folders. His computer was off, damn it, and she didn’t
have his password. She only hoped Derek was anal
enough to keep paper notes as well as computer files.
What was that doctor’s name? Woodburn? Woodstove?
Wood...something. Oh, here it is! She held up a sheaf of

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 46

papers, thumbing through them. Woodster. Scanning the
file, she smiled. Everything she needed was in there --
the details of Woodster’s discovery, his academic
pedigree, and the disc containing the footage of the
supposed werewolf that Derek had shown her.

Picking up the phone on Derek’s desk, she called

Walter’s private line. “Hello? Walter? I just had the
most brilliant idea for a story! Well, actually, I’d been
working on it for a while, thinking I’d sell it to Myth
Chasers, but now that I know you’re interested in doing
lighter stories for The Headline, of course I’d want us to
use it. It’s about werewolves, and a respected scientist
by the name of Woodster...”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 47

Chapter Five

Kong lazed against the sweet smelling hay piled high

in the loft. He was in his gorilla form, the one he spent
most of his time in, relaxing after the long trip to the
Shifting Sands Ranch. He debated whether he should
belt out another few verses of the “Banana Boat Song,”
just to ensure that the other shifters would give him a
wide berth, but decided against it.

He was getting pretty sick of hearing it himself. He

hadn’t stopped singing it from the time the plane left
Florida until it rolled onto the tarmac in Jackson, and
had continued his one-man karaoke performance all the
way up to the ranch. Between singing off-key and his
erratic shifting, his plan had worked perfectly. They all
thought he was crazier than a road running lizard.

This, of course, was exactly what Kong wanted them

to think. He’d learned from experience that when he let
people get too close to him, they inevitably hurt him.
First his parents, then his best friend, then every other
human being he’d let into his life. All of them had
freaked out when they found out about his secret. Most
had become violent with him, including his own father.
Those who hadn’t tried to kill him had run away
screaming.

Worse was when the disgust in his old man’s eyes

had changed to cupidity. Kong had been fourteen years
old. He’d shifted, hoping his father would help him
understand what was happening to him and would make
it stop. His father beat Kong with the thick end of a stout
branch, the only weapon easily available. Kong
remembered the beating vividly, and the instant when
his father had stopped hitting Kong as his dad realized
how valuable a commodity Kong would be to a zoo or a
circus. His father drugged Kong that same night. When

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 48

Kong woke up, he was in a small cage with iron bars,
surrounded by tents and trailers.

His father, his own flesh and blood, had sold him to a

traveling carnival. It’d taken Kong a month to escape his
cage and handlers.

That was the reason he’d gone away, choosing to live

by himself as an animal in the forests surrounding
Spokane, rather than with his human kin. He’d done
alright for years, too. Or, at least he had until those
stupid campers had reported him, and the rangers
tracked his ass down.

The one thing he’d learned through trial and error

was that his secret was too big to keep under wraps for
long. His gorilla hated to be caged under his human
skin. His human form was frail. It could be broken
easily, along with his too-human heart, but his gorilla
was strong. It would protect Kong, keep him safe, and
so he stayed in his animal form whenever possible.

The added benefit was that humans were hesitant to

get too close to a six-foot, rangy, massively muscular
knuckle-walker. His animal-form kept them away.

He grunted and rolled to one side, so that he could

look out of the small door that opened out from the loft.
He could see the ranch house from here, and part of the
farm. People and animals milled about, doing chores or
talking in small groups. He watched a young boy,
maybe three years old or so, run up to Dakota and Jax.
Dakota smiled broadly and scooped him up in strong
arms. Both men received kisses and hugs from the
laughing child, and gave kisses and hugs in return.

He felt a pang of longing deep within his soul as he

watched them. It was obvious that they were all very
fond of one another. None of them were attacking the
others, or even assuming defensive postures. The young
one was eagerly demanding attention from all the adults;

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 49

no one brushed the child aside. His heart wanted what
the humans had -- a band to call his own, a family, but
his mind sneered at the thought. Families were for the
weak, and he couldn’t afford any more vulnerabilities.

The group of people outside went inside the ranch

house, several of them glancing uneasily toward the barn
as they went.

He grunted at the obvious mistrust in their eyes. Even

if he’d purposely led them to believe he was unstable,
the fact that they’d so quickly embraced the idea hurt.

Are they really all shifters, as they claimed? He’d

seen Jax shift into a wolf, so he knew at least one other
person on the ranch could claim the ability to change
forms. Up until that morning, Kong had believed
himself to be the only person on the planet who could do
it. Then Dakota and Jax had told him that nearly
everyone on the ranch shifted.

He found it difficult to believe, although it was no

more far-fetched than two total strangers flying to
Florida from Wyoming to help a supposed gorilla-shifter
break out of the Big Mouse House.

It didn’t matter. Shifters or humans, he had to keep

them away. Although he wasn’t crazy, he worried that
he really was becoming unstable. He’d stayed in his
gorilla-form too often, for far too long. There were
times, more and more often as the years went by, when
he thought he might be forgetting how to be human,
even when he wore his man-skin. He barely remembered
how to interact with them anymore.

He shifted to his human form, feeling his incredible

simian strength bleed out of him like water through a
sieve. He shivered; the hay pricked his skin. His thin
human hide was poor protection. He felt so weak, so
vulnerable... The sensation was both unsettling and

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 50

uncomfortable. Kong feared the day was coming soon
was he would shift into his gorilla and never shift back.

What would they do to him if he forgot how -- or

refused -- to shift back, if he remained an animal?

He wasn’t going back to the theme park, or a zoo, to

be put on display like a freak for humans to throw
peanuts at, living or dying at the mercy of his handlers.
Not ever again. Been there, done that, as the saying
went. Twice.

Inside him, the gorilla beat his chest and roared. He’d

made it alone in the forest for years before being
captured. If he did it once, he could do it again, and this
time, he’d kill anyone who tried to trap him.

He shifted again and jumped down from the loft to

the barn floor. Moving quickly, massive muscles
moving fluidly under his shaggy fur, knuckles brushing
the ground, he loped outside and headed across the open
pasture.

When he reached the towering electrical fence that he

could only assume marked the territory of the Shifting
Sands Ranch, he snorted with disdain. The fence might
keep out humans, and most other animals, but not him.
Primates had resources.

He quickly scaled a tree near the fence, and in a

tremendous jump that spoke volumes of the strength of
his muscles, he leaped over the barbed wire coils at the
top of the fence and landed safely in a similar tree on the
opposite side.

Without looking back, he disappeared into the

darkness of the forests surrounding the Shifting Sands
Ranch.

***

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 51

“He’s a gorilla,” Mal said, squirting an overly-

healthy dollop of blue cheese salad dressing on top of
the mound of lettuce and raw vegetables on his plate,
hoping it would mask the odor of meat on the table. His
horse-form shuddered, but tolerated the dead flesh for
the sake of the carnivores in his family. Having dead
things within reaching distance still made his skin crawl
a little, although he dealt with it better than his twin, Tai.
She was slowly converting her human husband, Logan,
to vegetarianism, although he was kicking and
screaming every step of the way there, and had every
intention of doing the same to every other carnivore in
the household. “He’s strong enough to take any of us
down in a one-on-one fight -- my horse, your wolf,
Uncle Jax, even your bear, Uncle Dakota.”

Mal’s mate, Caedes, barked a short laugh and speared

an extremely rare steak from the pile on a nearby platter.
Caedes, who shifted into a velociraptor, had no qualms
about eating meat. Mal couldn’t even contemplate trying
to get him to eat veggies. For all that he loved his
husband, he knew creatures didn’t get any more
carnivorous than a dinosaur, although he knew that fact
wouldn’t stop Tai from trying. He’d already warned her
that anyone putting a hand between Caedes and dinner
was likely to lose a few fingers. “The day my raptor
can’t take down a monkey, is the day I get stuffed and
take up residence in the Hall of Reptiles at the Museum
of Natural History.”

“He’s an ape, not a monkey. There’s a difference, the

least of which is that he doesn’t have a tail, has a much
bigger brain, and outweighs you by at least a couple of
hundred pounds. You might be able to take him if you
were hunting in a pack,” Mal conceded, “But not solo,
hon. You know that no one has greater respect for your
hunting and fighting skills than I do, but one swipe of

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 52

that guy’s arm would crush your skull like tissue paper.
Even Uncle Ghost’s tiger couldn’t take him. The only
one who could beat him one-on-one is Uncle Aiden’s
dragon-pterodactyl-thingamabob, and you know he
doesn’t take that form anymore.”

“I would if it was a dire emergency, but I doubt if

The Other will be necessary just to deal with a gorilla-
shifter,” Aiden commented. He was the only shifter with
two animal forms -- a golden eagle, and another, darker
creature that was a cross between a dragon and a
pterodactyl. He rarely took the form of The Other, as he
called it, not since he’d helped battle his cousin -- and
Caedes’ father -- Cain, many years ago. He’d told
Dakota and Jax (who’d discreetly let the others in the
family know) that he was too afraid of the bloodlust that
sang through the veins of The Other when he took that
form. Everyone knew he was petrified he’d become as
much a monster as Cain had been if he did, although
nobody at the ranch believed it of him, in particular, his
mate Ghost.

“Plus, he’s crazy,” Mal continued. “Insanity

combined with enormous strength and cunning
potentially makes this guy an extremely dangerous
creature to have around the ranch. I’m worried about DJ
and the other kids.” He cast a wary glance at his
nephew, Tai and Logan’s son, who was sitting on a
booster seat next to Tai.

Tai clucked her tongue at Mal. “We don’t know that

he’s insane. What has he done so far to make you say
that?” she asked, waving the tines of her fork in his
direction. “All he’s done since he got here is sing.”

“Yeah, but it’s off key,” Mal said.
“So? Since when is being tone deaf a crime?” Tai

asked. “If that was the case, we would’ve needed to put
you in a rubber room years ago!”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 53

Mal looked offended. He gestured toward the far end

of the table where Jax and Dakota sat with Mal and
Tai’s parents, Oscar and Deidre. “I don’t trust him. The
gorilla has to go.”

“Nobody’s going anywhere, unless they give us a

reason to make them leave. Singing, off key or not, is
not a reason for banishment from this ranch,” Dakota
said sternly. “Kong saved Jax’s life twice. He’s not
going to hurt anybody, including DJ.” He shot a dour
look at Jax. “I swear, you’re such a bad influence on
these kids, Jax. They’re getting as territorial as you are.”

Jax looked affronted, putting his hands up as if to

ward Dakota off. “Hey! I didn’t say a word! I’ve been
sitting here trying to eat and minding my own business.”

“It’s not Uncle Jax’s fault,” Mal said, tapping his

plate with the tines of his fork. “We’re not little kids
anymore, Uncle Dakota. We’re all grown adults, and we
have eyes. Anybody can see that there’s something
seriously wrong with the gorilla.”

“Kong. His name is ‘Kong,’” Dakota said. “He’s had

a rough time of it, you know. It’s different for you, Mal.
You kids, you were born here on the ranch. You’ve
never had to go it alone in a world full of humans, never
had your family shun you because of who you are.”

Caedes made a rude noise. “Uh, I think I might

qualify as the winner when it comes to dysfunctional
families.”

Mal patted his mate on the arm. “That’s true, but you

turned out just fine.” Caedes’ familial history took the
prize -- his father, Cain, had been the leader of a
murderous pack of misogynists who called themselves
the Ultimate Predators, and who’d tried to kill everyone
at the ranch when Mal and Tai were just babies. As if
that weren’t bad enough, Caedes’ own twin brother had
tried to kill him. “The gorilla is a different story.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 54

“Did he tell you that’s what happened to him?” Tai

asked, cutting food up into small pieces, no doubt
making a plate for her son, although getting DJ to stop
playing with his plastic toy animals and eat was a chore
in and of itself.

DJ reminded Mal of himself and Tai at that age,

always lost in their own little worlds. DJ was showing
signs of having unusual powers, just like they had,
although none at all of shapeshifting. Then again, he
was a little young to shift into an animal-form. Mal and
Tai hadn’t shifted until they were several years older,
and the first generation of shifters -- like their parents
and Jax and Dakota -- hadn’t shifted until puberty.

The plastic animals, a pair of horses, galloped in

small circles in front of DJ, making him laugh. Except
for the slight plastic sheen, the toys could have passed
for live, albeit tiny, animals. DJ’s big blue eyes glittered
with excitement, twin dimples indenting his cheeks as
his delighted smile showed his small, white teeth.

Mal gave his head a slight shake. Both he and Tai

possessed the ability to move inanimate objects, but DJ
took the telekinetic ability one giant step further. He
made the plastic toys look and move as if they were...
alive. If this was any indication of the powers DJ would
possess as an adult, then he was going to be a very
impressive alpha someday.

Mal shuddered to think of what it would be like

living with DJ during his rebellious teen years, though.
He and Tai had been a handful back then; if DJ were to
be anything like them, Tai and Logan might actually
have to hogtie DJ until he was twenty-one.

“Well, no,” Dakota hedged. “But that’s what usually

happens. Why else would he have been living as a
gorilla, alone in the wilderness up in Washington?”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 55

Mal arched a knowing brow at Dakota, as if he’d

proven Mal’s point. “Oh, let me think... because he’s
crazy? Even his name shows that there’s something not
right inside his head. To begin with, it’s clichéd, and it’s
just plain weird for another. Didn’t he ever see any of
the movies? Doesn’t he know that Kong ends up as a
splatter on the sidewalk? That alone makes him
disturbed in my book.”

Dakota shot him a look that reminded Mal who was

still in charge of the ranch. Jax might claim the title of
“Alpha,” but Dakota was his mate, and equally
powerful, and his glare was enough to make Mal
squirm. “This ranch was founded as a safe haven for our
people -- all of our people, not just the perfect ones. If
there is something wrong with Kong, well, then he
needs our protection even more. We will not turn him
out. Do you understand, Mal? I don’t want to hear
another word about it.”

“But, Uncle Dakota--"
Dakota cut Mal off with a growl. “This conversation

is over, Mal. Pass the potato salad, please.”

Mal knew from experience not to push any further

when Dakota, usually the more placid of his elders, used
that particular tone, and wisely dropped the subject,
although he made a mental note to discuss it further with
Caedes after dinner. He couldn’t shake the feeling that
Kong’s arrival was going to spell disaster for the ranch,
although exactly how Kong was involved eluded him.

The conversation turned toward more mundane

things, like the current price per head of cattle at auction
and the storm front due to move in later that afternoon.

When thunder crashed outside, making the windows

rattle in their frames, Mal wondered whether it was just
the coming storm or a foreshadowing of things to come.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 56

***

“I don’t like all this arguing, Jax. We’ve never had a

problem like this with any other shifter we’ve taken in,
and Kong seems to need us more than anyone,” Dakota
said, as he readied himself for bed.

Jax walked out of their bathroom. His toothbrush was

in his mouth, sticking out of a corner like a plastic cigar.
“He’s cwazy. We ne’er had a nutty shi’ter efore.”

Dakota looked up at Jax, his head cocked. “What?

Take that damn toothbrush out of your mouth, Jax. I
can’t understand a word you just said.”

Jax sighed and removed the toothbrush, pointing it at

Dakota. “I said, we’ve never had a nutty shifter before.
There’s no telling what he’s capable of. I agreed to bring
him here, but I think Mal has a point. It’s not like it used
to be. We’re not all adults here anymore, who can
defend themselves. We’ve got kids running around now,
Dakota.”

“Jax, I have a really strong feeling that there’s more

to Kong than he’s letting on. I think he’s been hurt badly
in the past, and this is his way of protecting himself.”

“Do you know what your problem is, Dakota? You’re

too warm and fuzzy for your own good,” Jax said,
shaking his head as he went back into the bathroom. “I
agree with Mal. I think Kong has to go. I’m sorry,
Dakota. I’ll tell him in the morning.”

He walked back inside the bedroom, fully intending

to get some much-needed shuteye, but ground to a halt
just inside the door. He would’ve thought Dakota would
be half asleep. It’d been a long, tiring day for them, and
neither of them was getting any younger, although he’d
die before admitting he was feeling his age.

Evidently, Dakota had a lot more stamina than Jax

ever gave him credit for having. Dakota was lying stark

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 57

naked on the bed, teasing his cock with his hand. When
he turned toward Jax with that heated look in his eyes,
Jax’s body, despite Jax's exhaustion, snapped to
attention.

His cock thickened as he watched, his body and brain

at war with each other. His brain wanted sleep; his body
wanted to bury itself inside Dakota until the sun rose.

Not surprisingly, his body won the argument.
He stripped out of his clothes as quickly as he could.

His breath was growing quick and his body hard as he
stalked toward the bed. Crawling up over Dakota’s
body, he rubbed his cock teasingly over Dakota’s
stomach. “Want me?” he asked, with a salacious grin.

“Oh, hell, yes,” Dakota answered. He licked his lips,

drawing Jax’s attention to his lush lips.

Suddenly, Jax was torn; did he want the paradise

between Dakota’s legs or the bliss of Dakota's mouth?
Decisions, decisions, he thought, biting his own lip.

“Are you going to sit there all day, or are you going

to fuck me?” Dakota asked, impatiently.

Well, that decided it. Jax nudged Dakota’s legs a bit

wider with his knee, and guided his cock toward
Dakota’s hole. He squeezed his eyes shut against the
pleasure as he began to slowly sink himself inside
Dakota’s body. It was a feeling he’d had countless times
over the years, and one he never grew tired of feeling.
That first entrance, the first moments when his cock was
fully enveloped in the hot silk of Dakota’s ass, with
Dakota’s lusty moan in his ears, was breathtakingly
wonderful.

He held back as long as he could, then began to

move, slowly at first, then picking up the rhythm.

“Oh, sweet fuck, yeah!” Dakota moaned. He grabbed

his knees, pulling his legs up toward his chest.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 58

Jax practically howled as he drove himself deeper

into Dakota’s body, setting a punishing tempo. The
sound of their lovemaking filled the air: groans and soft
cries and the wet sound of flesh slapping flesh spurred
Jax closer to climax. “You feel my cock? Filling you up,
baby.”

“Fuck yeah. Fuck me hard!”
Dakota’s hand was working his cock now, fisting

himself. He was getting close; Jax could tell by the way
Dakota’s eyes lost focus, becoming dreamy-looking. He
held his breath, trying to stave off his own orgasm. He
wanted to watch Dakota first.

When Dakota came, painting his own stomach with

his juices, the smell of Dakota’s come filled the air. The
scent of Dakota’s semen pushed Jax’s climax past his
control. He came hard, grunting as a wave of razor sharp
pleasure sliced through him. When it finally subsided,
he pulled away from Dakota and dropped in a boneless
heap, face down on the bed.

“Hey, you okay?” Dakota asked softly.
Jax’s voice was muffled by the pillow. “Yeah. I’m

fine. I may never have the strength to get up off of this
bed again, but other than that, I’m perfect.”

Dakota laughed. “Have I told you lately that I love

you?”

“Not in the last five minutes.”
“I love you. Now,” Dakota said, as he delivered a

sharp slap on Jax’s bare backside, eliciting a yelp.
“About what we were discussing before... what do you
say?”

Jax waved a weary hand at him. “Yeah, yeah. I know,

I know. You win. Kong stays.” He let his hand drop to
the bed, too exhausted to keep it up in the air.

“Good. We’ll need to figure out where to put him. I

was thinking of asking Jolly if Kong could bunk in with

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 59

him. I figure of all the ranch hands, Jolly would be able
to handle him. If he--"

“Dakota?”
“Yes?”
“No more talk. Sleeping.”
He didn’t see Dakota’s soft, slightly smug smile, but

he could hear it. “Okay, hon. Go to sleep. You deserve
it.”

“Damn straight,” Jax mumbled, then knew no more

until morning.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 60

Chapter Six

Kong had never been so sorry to see a house,

abandoned or otherwise.

Since leaving the ranch behind and escaping into the

deep darkness of the forest-covered mountains an hour
before, he'd not seen hide or hair of human habitation.
No houses, no fires, no tents, no discarded Coke bottles
or potato chip bags, none of the usual trash left behind
by insensitive or careless campers.

He was tired, hungry, and aching to go to ground, to

find someplace good and deep to hole up where humans,
shifters or otherwise, would never find him again. Of
course, he knew he couldn't stay in the Tetons. The
winters would be far too harsh for him to survive
without shelter and a store of food. In Washington, the
forest he'd chosen had been popular with campers. He'd
been able to raid campsites for canned foodstuffs, and
had a cave to nest in. He'd even stockpiled firewood to
last him the winter.

For all its beauty, this mountain was desolate. He

hadn't seen signs of campers, which meant no food for
the taking. He also hadn't seen any caves large enough
for him to use to comfortably pass the winter.

When he'd found the beautiful lake nestled in a

protected valley, he thought he'd found just the place he
was looking for -- it was secluded, bountiful with leaves,
berries, and roots. The lake was large and would provide
plenty of fresh water and fish. All he needed to do was
find a cave and begin stockpiling for the winter.

Or so he'd thought until he spotted the house.
Obviously neglected, and long uninhabited from the

way the forest was slowly overtaking the property, it
still stank of human and belied the appearance of
security the lake valley seemed to offer.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 61

He'd grunted and pounded his fists into the dirt a few

times, venting his frustration on the earth. The sun was
setting; soon full dark would be upon him, and gorillas
were not nocturnal creatures by nature. Dinner might
have to wait until breakfast, but he needed to find a
place to pass the night. He could put no more distance
between himself and the rest of humanity until dawn.

He eyed the house, cocking his large, domed head

speculatively, but immediately dismissed the notion as
fanciful; a symptom of what he considered his other
form's weakness. Humans needed wooden shelters to
survive. Gorillas needed nothing, feared nothing. No, I
am not spending the night under a roof, trapped by
walls. Caves are bad enough, but at least they're
natural, not manmade. No. Absolutely not.

He turned his back on the house in a simian pique. I

don't need a human's house. I got along just fine in
Washington without one, and I can do equally fine here.
Besides, it looks abandoned, so there won't be any
electricity or running water anyway. Why bother?

Because there might be beds still inside the house,

that's why, he conceded. How many years has it been
since you've slept in an actual bed, with a mattress and
box spring, maybe even a pillow, and not in a lumpy
nest of leaves and twigs on the cold, hard ground?

Too many, that's how many.
You'd be relatively warm and comfortable, and safe

from hunting parties, at least for one night, he thought.

He hemmed and hawed for another few minutes,

making excuses, trying to talk himself out of it, but
when dark clouds began to blow in over the mountains,
and the few fat raindrops that fell turned into a
downpour, he made his way toward the house.

***

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 62

Derek had never been so glad to see a house,

abandoned or not.

It had taken him close to two hours of following the

pitted, rough road around the lake to the far side, then
another fifteen minutes of hard hiking through brambles
to reach Dr. Woodster's house at the edge of the water.
Whoever the good doctor had left his estate to had really
let the property go to seed. Weeds blanketed the land
waist high, threaded thickly with thorny vines. Bushes
and trees crowded in close, branches tearing at his
clothing and scratching his skin as he pushed his way
through. It was evident that no one had lived in the
house for years, probably since Woodster had gone into
his retirement home.

By the time he reached the sagging front porch, he

was bone-tired, had to piss like a race horse -- and was
so hungry he thought he could eat said horse afterward -
- and had blisters on his blisters.

He sat down on the step and pulled off his shoes.

Blisters had broken on his feet; his socks were stiff with
dried blood and stuck to his skin. He peeled them off
carefully, examining his feet with an expression of
distaste. There was a particularly ugly blister on his right
heel, and another on the pinkie toe of his left foot. He
scowled at his sneakers, bought brand new a couple of
weeks ago for a price that could've bought him a lobster
dinner at any of the best restaurants in LA, complete
with drinks, dessert, and a healthy tip, and still hadn't
protected his feet worth a damn.

This is why he never liked hiking and preferred the

gym for his workouts. Well, that, and the mosquitoes.
He'd been slapping at the little pint-sized vampires all
afternoon, but his arms and legs were covered in red
bumps that itched like crazy anyway. At the gym, he got
use of the high tech equipment, sauna and hot tubs,

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 63

bottled Evian water, plus up close and personal peeks at
the gym queens' perfect asses and eight-packs, and no
fucking mosquitoes. It was well worth the price he paid
for membership. The forest is free, he thought, but you
get what you pay for.

He pulled off his shirt and used it to wipe the

moisture from his forehead, immediately regretting the
action when he got a good whiff of the material. Not
only was he hot, tired, hungry, sore, and itchy, but he
stank like he'd gone Dumpster diving.

"This fucking day just gets better and better, doesn't

it?" he grumbled, scrunching his nose up at the stench
and setting his shirt aside. "I could be in my air-
conditioned apartment right now, getting drunk. Hell, I
could be home getting laid! But no... Mr. Big Shot
Reporter just had to fly halfway across the country so he
could get stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere and
eaten alive by goddamn mosquitoes, all to find a
werewolf that's probably nothing but the product of a
senile old man's medicated delusions! I must have a
fucking death wish."

He let his head hang low and thrust his fingers

through his hair as he tried to beat back the depression
threatening to overwhelm him. As he so often did when
he was discouraged, he lectured himself like a coach
giving the losing team a pep talk. "Okay, MacCauffie.
Sitting here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help
the situation, and it certainly isn't going to get you the
story you're after. Do you want to go home with your
tail between your legs and have to tell Marcy she was
right all along? That you were wrong, that there is no
werewolf story? That you spent your entire travel
allowance and most of your personal savings on a wild
goose chase? Do you? Of course, you don't! Get your
lazy butt up and get cracking! You can do this."

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 64

A short rest, a bottle of water, a couple of power bars,

and a clean pair of socks didn't elevate his mood much,
but they did lend him enough energy to pry his ass off
the step and take a look around.

Thunder pealed as dark, ominous clouds began to

build, graying the sunset. The air chilled, the
temperature dropping almost instantaneously as the
thunderstorm rolled over the valley. A few fat, cold
drops of rain splattered on his upturned face, making
him blink.

The weather was about to take a turn for the worse,

and in a hurry.

Sighing audibly, he rolled his eyes heavenward,

cursed his luck for a millionth time that day, and headed
for the front door.

If there was any mercy in the universe at all, perhaps

he'd be able to jimmy the door open and get inside to
wait out the storm. He climbed the porch and jiggled the
doorknob.

Locked.
Of course it was. Finding it open would've been far

too convenient, and Derek's life was never that. How
could he expect anyone to leave a house unlocked here,
in the middle of the wilderness, where the fucking crime
rate was so high? He rolled his eyes and reached for his
wallet, pulling out a credit card.

At least the good doctor or his inheritors had never

seen fit to install an alarm system, or even a deadbolt
lock on the door. Jimmying the door open proved easier
than he would've thought. After only a couple of
minutes of working the thin plastic card between the
bolt and the strike plate, he felt the lock give.

The door swung open on an empty room. Living

room, probably, he thought, slipping inside and closing
the door behind him. It smelled stale, and he reminded

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 65

himself the house had been closed up for a long time,
inviting all kinds of dust and mildew to take root. He
wrinkled his nose against the unpleasant mustiness.

There was no furniture in the first room, only a few

boxes that held mostly books, a few knick knacks, and a
stack of loose papers. He picked up a handful, tilting
them to catch the gray light filtering in through the dirty
windows. Another few minutes and it would be too dark
to see at all. As it was, he could barely read them.

We regret to inform you that your submission

Skinwalkers: The Shapeshifting Abilities of the Navajo
does not meet the rigorous requirements for publication
in The Journal of Scientific Discovery.

We regret to inform you that your submission Nāga,

Nhang, and Dragons: Shapeshifting Snakes of the World
does not meet the rigorous requirements for publication
in The Journal of Scientific Discovery.

We regret to inform you that your submission

Cellular Metamorphosis: Theories of Causation In
Therianthropods does not meet the rigorous
requirements for publication in The Journal of Scientific
Discovery.

He squinted in the rapidly fading light and quickly

flipped through the fistful of letters he held in his hand.
They were all identical, except for the titles of the works
submitted. We regret to inform you...we regret to inform
you...

Rejection letters, all of them. Form letters at that,

without salutation, computer generated, sent without the
slightest deference for Dr. Woodster's former
achievements as a scientist. How insulting, Derek
thought, letting the papers fall back into the box.
Woodster had been a nominee for a Nobel Prize in
science at one time, yet the academic community had
treated his post-retirement shapeshifter research like so

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 66

much nonsense. The rejection must have been a hard
blow to his ego. No wonder he'd sat on his video for so
long. He probably didn't have the fortitude to face the
critics had he released it while he was alive.

"Well, I believe you, Dr. Woodster," Derek

whispered. "And I'm going to prove you were right." He
turned his back on the boxes, heading across the room to
a narrow hallway.

The kitchen was empty, as well, except for a few

dust-coated glasses in the sink and a scattering of mouse
droppings across the countertops and floor. A quick
twist of the knob on the sink produced a dribble of
brownish water. After a few minutes, the water ran
clear. Well water, he thought. Good. At least I won't die
of dehydration. I only have a few bottles of water left.

Another door led to the back porch. Derek rubbed a

spot on the door glass free from dirt, and peered out. The
sunset, as yet untempered by the approaching storm,
painted the back porch in reds, oranges, and deepening
shadows. Beyond the porch and short yard, the lake
spread out like a vast, black ink spot.

Tomorrow, he would go out to explore the lake shore

and the surrounding forest. Tonight, he'd be lucky if the
light lasted long enough for him to find a place to sleep.

The hallway led to two other small rooms and a

bathroom, all of which were just as dirty and deserted as
the living room and kitchen.

There was a flight of carpeted stairs leading up to a

second floor. He climbed them gingerly, testing each
step carefully, afraid that they might've rotted from
disrepair and give way under his weight. If he fell from
the second floor to the first, he might break a leg. No
one knew where he was, and he had no way to contact
anybody. A broken leg could mean death.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 67

The second floor was no less neglected than the first,

but he did find a bed -- of sorts -- in one of the
bedrooms. A mattress, perhaps having one sprung spring
too many for comfort, had been discarded on the floor. It
smelled musty and was covered with a thin layer of
whitish dust, but when Derek flipped it over, the
underside seemed relatively clean. No mouse droppings
or crawling creatures were evident, at least. He refused
to think about what might be living inside the mattress.

He rooted through his overnight bag and found the

plastic tarp he'd bought at the dry goods store in town,
using it to cover the mattress. Together with his sleeping
bag, he figured he'd have adequate protection from
whatever wildlife inhabited the mattress.

The rain had turned into a deluge, wind-driven drops

battering against the windows. Lightning flashed, and
thunder rolled against the house like battering waves of
sound. He crawled into his sleeping bag, one hand
clutching the strap of his overnight bag as if it was a
lifeline, and closed his eyes.

Derek had never felt so tired before. He was bone-

weary, aching in places he hadn't known a human being
could ache. He could swear that even his eyebrows hurt.
He fell asleep almost instantly, drifting into a pleasant
dream where he wasn't stranded on Walton Mountain
without the benefit of John Boy's company.

He never heard the downstairs door open, or the

heavy footsteps on the stairs.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 68

Chapter Seven

Dinner had been a little tense, with all the arguing

back and forth about Kong. Dakota was beginning to
sorely regret bringing Kong to the ranch -- a first for
him. In all the years he'd been "collecting strays," as Jax
put it, he'd never been sorry for bringing one home.
Until now, that is, and it wasn't even Kong's fault, not
really. Aside from the singing and unpredictable
shifting, Kong hadn't been much of a problem on the
flight home or the drive to the ranch. He hadn't even
complained when they'd asked him to stay in the barn
loft for a while. If the situation were reversed, Dakota
knew he'd have been insulted not to be given a room
inside the house.

It was the dissension between his family members

that had Dakota wondering if he'd made a mistake. He
was used to arguing with Jax -- that was a given, but
arguing with the rest of the people he considered his kin
was something he'd never had to do before. People were
choosing sides, and that disturbed him.

When Mal insinuated that Kong might be dangerous

to have around JD and the other children, Jax and Aiden
had agreed. Tai and Ghost supported Dakota's point of
view. The division between the family members had
Dakota on edge.

When things got heated, he started second-guessing

his decision, and lost his appetite. What would he do if
Mal was right, if Kong went wild and something
happened to one of the kids? It would've have been
Dakota's fault. He'd never be able to live with himself.
The thought twisted his guts into a tight, painful knot.

Relieved that dinner was finally over, he'd slipped

away from the table and fled upstairs to their room to try

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 69

to sort things out in his head. Unfortunately, all he could
manage to do was wallow in his misery.

He wasn't surprised at all when Jax followed shortly

after and sat down on the bed beside him.

"Don't do this to yourself, Dakota," Jax said. He

placed a warm hand on Dakota's thigh, rubbing it
soothingly.

He turned his head away so he didn't have to look Jax

in the eye when he lied. "Do what? I'm not doing
anything, unless you mean sitting here minding my own
business."

"Ri-ight. We both know what you were doing. You

were sitting here, blaming yourself for something that
hasn't even happened, and may never happen." Jax
cupped Dakota's face with his fingers. "You did nothing
wrong. Understand? Nothing. You only did what you
always do -- thought with your heart. You found one of
our kind, who was alone and hurting, and gave him the
chance to have a normal life."

"You didn't want to bring Kong here, either."
Jax gave a wry snort. "Yeah, well I never want to

bring anybody back. Why should this time be any
different? You know how I am. My Pack is my Pack. I
don't play well with strangers."

"But what if--"
"I don't want any buts, except the one in your pants,"

Jax said with a wink.

Dakota bit back a grin as he felt Jax slide a hand

around his waist and slip three fingers under the
waistband of his pants. The fingers tickled the crack of
Dakota's ass, making him squirm and his cock perk up,
despite his dour mood. "Knock that off. I'm worried,
Jax."

"Don't be. Your instincts have never been wrong

before. Look, you know I don't say this often, and if you

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 70

tell anybody I will deny I ever said it, but you were right
to bring Kong here. You're always right when it comes
to rescuing strays."

Dakota harrumphed, but couldn't help the small smile

that tipped his lips. Jax rarely conceded anything. He
knew Jax' wolf was an alpha male to the core, and
bristled at the mere thought of being in the wrong. His
concession told Dakota just how much Jax loved him,
believed in him, and how much his behavior had
disturbed Jax. Still, he wasn't able to fully let go of his
concerns. "Well, be that as it may, I'm still worried."

Jax sighed dramatically. "Then I guess there's only

one thing left to do. I'll have to sacrifice and take your
mind off your troubles."

Dakota's smile grew a little broader. "Oh? How do

you propose to do that?" As if he didn't know.

"Like this. Watch and learn, grasshopper," Jax said,

as he gently, but firmly, pushed Dakota back onto the
bed. He straddled Dakota's thighs as a hungry look
darkened his eyes. "You're not the only one who can use
sex to his advantage."

Dakota knew Jax was referring to Dakota's habit of

using sex to get Jax to agree to do what Dakota wanted,
especially when it involved going out to fetch another
shapeshifter back to the ranch.

He couldn't deny it even if he wanted to -- it was the

truth. Still, he knew Jax hardly minded Dakota's
preferred method of persuasion.

Dakota bit back a soft moan as Jax swiftly

unbuttoned his shirt and leaned down, latching onto one
of Dakota's nipples. Jax's teeth worried at the small nub,
sending tiny shivers of pleasure directly to Dakota's
balls. His prick, so recently woken, hardened.

Jax never did have much patience for foreplay – not

that Dakota was complaining -- and left his nipple in

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 71

search of a bigger mouthful. He mouthed Dakota's cock
through the thick denim material, his hot breath making
Dakota squirm. "Oh, fuck, Jax! Stop teasing," Dakota
groaned. He tried to push Jax away so that he could
unzip his jeans, but Jax was having none of it. All he
managed to do was pop open the button before Jax's
head lifted and his teeth bared.

Jax's growl sounded throaty and rough. "No. Mine."
Dakota drew in a ragged breath as he watched Jax

take the zipper of his jeans between his teeth and slowly
pull it down. He wasn't wearing underwear, and his cock
sprang free. Jax wasted no time in taking him in deeply,
either. Dakota squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden
rush of heat and pleasure.

His hips lifted of their own accord, instinct driving

his cock deeper. Twisting his fingers in Jax's hair, he
tried to ignore the pang of guilt he felt for just lying
there, letting Jax pleasure him. He picked his head up,
trying to get Jax's attention. "Jax, let me--"

Jax's answering growl reverberated around his cock,

making him gasp and violently throw his head back
against the mattress. "Fuck, Jax! That was so good... do
it again!"

Jax complied, growling and taking him in deep.

Dakota yelped loudly as he climaxed. His muscles
stiffened, hips bucking hard enough to shake the
mattress. A wave of pleasure crashed over him,
drowning him in ecstasy, freezing his lungs. He had to
fight to draw in a deep breath, and when he finally did, it
came in a rasping staccato. "Oh, man, Jax... just... oh."
He couldn't even describe how good Jax was, how great
it had felt.

Jax's smug smile told him he didn't have to.
"You, now, okay?" Dakota said, pushing himself

upon one elbow, ready to try to give back as good as

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 72

he'd gotten. It wasn't going to be easy, but he was eager
to try.

As it turned out, he was a little too late. Jax crawled

up onto the bed, his pants hanging open, his cock swiftly
growing flaccid. "Already got me some," he said with a
grin.

Dakota felt wetness dripping on his leg, and laughed.

"Impatient, huh? Couldn't wait for me?"

"Nope. Not when my mouth if full of your dick, and

my ears are full of those sweet noises you make."

Dakota laughed. "That's charming, in a weird, porno-

movie-sort-of-way."

Jax chuckled with him, then promptly stretched out

on the bed and yawned fiercely. "That was hard work.
Need a nap. Gonna join me?"

"Nah. I need to do a few things, first. You sleep. God

knows, you earned forty winks."

"Forty-seven. I earned at least forty-seven," Jax said,

his voice already slurring into a mumble as his eyes
drifted closed.

"You are a very strange man, but I love you anyway,"

Dakota whispered, leaning over to press his lips to Jax's.
"Sleep well."

Dakota smiled as he watched Jax sleep for a few

minutes. Jax's face softened as his sleep deepened, and
some of the lines age had carved into his skin smoothed.
For a minute, Dakota could see the younger Jax lying
there, the man as he'd been when they'd first met; the
one who'd nearly dry humped Dakota in the elevator
within ten minutes of their first meeting.

Jax's hands and feet twitched, and he yipped softly

before beginning to snore.

I wonder what you're dreaming about, Jax? Dakota

wondered silently. He gently brushed a hank of hair out
of Jax's eyes. About me, I hope. Something nice.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 73

Something sweet. You deserve it after everything I've put
you through in bringing Kong here. Hell, you deserve it
after all the years of headaches I've given you.

He sighed and stood up, stretching, making his

vertebrae pop like firecrackers. Tucking himself into his
pants, he zipped up and cast around for his shoes. As
much as I'd like to curl up with you, I'd better go see to
Kong. We've left him alone far too long already. Who
knows what mischief he's gotten into by now?

With a last look at Jax, Dakota shut off the light,

closed the door softly behind him, and headed outside to
the barn.

***

"What do you mean, 'he's gone?'" Jax sat bolt upright

in bed, startled out of a sound sleep by Dakota's
announcement. He caught his reflection in the mirror
that hung on the wall across from the bed, and frowned.
His salt-and-pepper hair was sleep-mussed; his face held
the wrinkled imprint of his pillow. One hand swiped
absently at a dribble of dried drool at the corner of his
mouth. He looked like he felt... an absolute wreck.

"Just that. He's gone, as in missing. I went up to the

loft to ask him to come get something to eat, and he
wasn't there," Dakota said. "I checked the loft, the stalls,
outside in the pasture, the tool shed, and the bunkhouse,
everywhere..."

"I knew that damn gorilla was going to be trouble!

Where the hell could he have gone?" Jax turned away
from Dakota and stalked out of the bedroom, knowing
Dakota would follow.

"You just said upstairs not twenty minutes ago that I

was right about bringing him here!"

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 74

Jax spared a second to toss Dakota a black look for

reminding him. "A temporary lapse in sanity, I assure
you. I wanted in your pants. I would've said anything."

"Liar!"
He refused to admit Dakota was right again -- since

just look where saying it the first time had gotten him --
and made a beeline for the front door, trotting out into
the yard and heading toward the barn. "Kong!" he
yelled, drawing the attention of everyone within hearing
distance. "Where are you? Get over here, now!"

"He's our guest, not our prisoner, Jax--"
Jax turned on Dakota with a snarl. It was nothing

personal. He loved Dakota with all his heart and soul,
had ever since they'd met at a ski lodge over twenty
years ago. This had nothing to do with his personal
feelings. His alpha wolf was on full alert, hackles
standing straight up, teeth bared, ready to defend his
Pack. "The fuck you say! He's not free, either, Dakota.
Not while he's up here, at our home. He's not free to
cause trouble. He's not free to threaten everything we've
worked so hard to build. He's not free to run around and
possibly expose us all to the humans!"

"We don't know where he's gone--"
"Exactly my point!"
Dakota folded his arms over his chest, glaring at Jax,

but Jax refused to be cowed. He craned his neck,
returning Dakota's glare with one of his own. "Don't,
Dakota. Not this time. You know as well as I do that the
gorilla is unstable. There's no telling what he might do
out on his own. We need to find him, and right now!"

To Jax's amazement, Dakota backed down almost

immediately. His sigh sounded as though it came from
his toes, long and heavy. His shoulders slumped, his
arms falling to his sides. "As much as I want to argue
with you, I think you're right this time, Jax."

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 75

Jax recovered his surprise quickly. "Good. Get

everyone we can spare out here. We'll start by checking
all the buildings on property, then move to the
surrounding forest. Our only hope is that he hasn't gone
far. It’ll be dark soon, and we’ll have to wait until
morning to search."

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 76

Chapter Eight

Kong approached the house from the lake.
He scented the air constantly, searching for any sign

of danger. He could smell human, but even though the
rain dampened much of it, he could tell that the scent
was old and faded. The smell of deer and raccoon was
much stronger, and he had no fear of the smaller, weaker
forest creatures.

The stairs to the back porch groaned under his

weight, but held. The rain was falling heavier, whipped
by gusts of wind. He shook himself free of the cold
droplets, but still felt chilled.

The back door was locked, but proved no match for

his simian strength. One good shove broke the lock and
pushed it open. He stepped inside, grateful to be out of
the rain. It was much darker inside the house, but his
night vision was enough for him to find his way,
although he relied on his nose more than his eyes.

Colors weren’t lost to him in his animal-form, but

they didn’t seem as vibrant to him as they did when he
was human. He saw in the full spectrum of color, but
they seemed a little muted to him, particularly for the
first few hours after he shifted.

It didn’t matter. His nose more than made up for his

eyesight. The world exploded into vivid relief when seen
through his sense of smell. He fancied he could smell
the colors much better than he could see them in either
of his forms. Blues smelled soothing and sweet,
reminding him of the hyacinth flowers his mother used
to keep in the yard when he was a young boy. Red was
the spicy scent of jalapeno peppers, still dusted with dirt
and stacked in irregular piles at the farmers’ market.
Green was as fresh as laundry flapping on the line in the
breeze, and as crisp as snap peas picked from the vine.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 77

Yellow was bright and warm, like a cheerfully burning
hickory fire. White was as cold and clean as a layer of
fresh snow covering the ground.

He grunted at himself for letting his fanciful

imagination distract him from the task at hand, namely
making certain there was nothing to fear inside the
house where he hoped to spend the night, or at least wait
out the storm.

Colors -- seen, smelled, or otherwise -- were not

important at the moment. The human smell was his
concern.

The scent was much stronger inside the house than it

had been outside, fresher, too. He paused, flaring his
nostrils, letting his instincts decipher the information
carried in the air. Only one human had been here
recently, a male. The odor was very fresh, only a few
hours old, but that didn’t disturb Kong as much as the
fact that it was... enticing. Usually, humans smelled
artificial. They masked their natural odors with
colognes, deodorants, shampoos, soaps, and laundry
detergents. They smelled unnatural. Fake.

Not this human.
He smelled... surprisingly good, of sweat, and salt,

and male musk. Kong sniffed the air again and began
following the invisible, olfactory trail, his natural
curiosity overcoming his usual wariness.

The scent grew stronger in the living room, and led

him up the narrow stairs to the second floor of the
house. His wide shoulders brushed both sides of the
narrow hallway as his nose led him to the second room
on the left.

It took a minute for him to locate the human in the

dark room. He was lying on the floor, wrapped in thick
material. A sleeping bag, Kong realized, spotting the
glint of a metal zipper. There was a duffle bag on the

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 78

floor, as well, but other than that, the room was devoid
of furnishings.

Kong moved further into the room, drawn by the

human’s scent. He smelled so good! Like a coffee addict
following their nose into a Starbucks, he breathed
deeply, drawn ever closer to the source. He pushed the
duffle bag out of his way with one hand, grunting softly
under his breath.

He didn’t know what woke the man up. Either the

human was a very light sleeper, or Kong had made more
noise than he’d realized, but the man sat straight up, still
wrapped in the sleeping bag, and shattered the stillness
of the night with an ear-piercing scream.

There was no doubt what he screaming about. His

eyes must have been adjusted to the dark from sleep. He
saw Kong, or at least saw a large, hulking form looming
over him.

Kong was startled and reacted out of pure instinct. He

screamed back. Or, rather, he roared.

The sound rattled the windowpanes and echoed in the

empty house. The man shrieked again, struggling to get
away from Kong, but the sleeping bag made it
impossible for him to rise. His legs twisted in the
material, but he managed to scuttle backward until his
back hit the wall; he screamed all the while.

Kong’s sensitive ears rang with the combined volume

of his own roar and the man’s terrified shouts. Plus, the
man’s fear infused a bitter tang into his otherwise
tantalizing aroma that Kong found distasteful. He
wanted, needed, to put the human at ease, and so did the
only thing that came to mind.

He shifted.
Before he could say a word, the man shrieked one

last time then fainted dead away, slumping to the floor.

Well, Kong thought, at least he’s stopped screaming.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 79

***

Sunlight streaming through the windows, unfiltered

by shades or curtains, woke Derek. He groaned, rubbing
a hand over his sleep-encrusted eyes. What a bizarre
dream! He’d dreamed he found the shapeshifter Dr.
Woodster had films of, except instead of wolf, it had
been a gorilla, and it had let loose a bloodcurdling roar.
Derek could still feel the ghost of the fear he’d felt in his
dream. How fucking weird was that? Where the hell had
his subconscious dug up a gorilla from? Then again,
given the day he’d suffered through, it was perfectly
understandable that he’d had a nightmare. Maybe the
gorilla represented Marcy. That sort of made sense, in a
way. He could picture her beating her chest and roaring.

He sat up and hunted for the zipper to his sleeping

bag. Kicking the material to the side, he stood up and
stretched. His spine felt like a kinked Slinky after
sleeping on the floor all night.

That was when he realized he wasn’t alone in the

room.

There was a man sleeping at the opposite end, near

the door. The thought that a stranger had slipped into the
house during the night and made himself at home while
Derek was sleeping was peculiar enough, but not what
made Derek gape in surprise.

It was the fact that the man was completely naked

that glued Derek’s tongue to the roof of his mouth.

A million explanations raced through Derek’s mind

in the space of a heartbeat, most of them ridiculous, and
almost all of them impossible.

He was a member of a nudist group who’d gotten lost

in the woods.

He was a hunter who’d been stripped naked by a

pack of pissed off raccoons.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 80

He was an exotic dancer who’d bought the house

from the Woodster estate.

Well, Derek thought, arching an eyebrow as he

eyeballed the man from head to foot and back again, I
know one thing for sure. There’s no way he’s carrying a
concealed weapon -- at least, nowhere comfortable.

The other conclusion he came to immediately was

that the man looked good naked.

Really good.
The man’s hair was longish and badly in need of a

trim, but it was as black as night. It fell around his
shoulders and pooled under his head as if it was liquid,
shiny and thick. His face was strong-featured, but Derek
thought him extremely handsome, even with the full,
bushy beard he wore.

His body was incredible. There wasn’t an inch of

spare flesh on him. Everywhere Derek looked -- and he
made it a point to look everywhere, and more than once
– was chiseled muscle, from his broad shoulders and
sculpted arms, to his thick thighs and rounded calves.
He was quite hairy. His body was dusted liberally with
the same black hair as that growing in such profusion on
his head. The triangular patch between his thighs made a
beautiful contrast to the rosy skin of his impressive, if
flaccid, cock.

His feet, however, were filthy, as if he’d been

walking barefoot through the forest. His hands were also
dirty, although the rest of him looked squeaky clean.

Maybe my theory of the nudist camper isn’t so

unbelievable after all, Derek thought with a smirk. He
cleared his throat politely, trying to wake the man
gently. After all, he supposed if the man had meant him
harm, he’d be dead already. The stranger could’ve
strangled him in his sleep at any time during the night.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 81

The man snuffled an odd sort of snort and rolled onto

his stomach without waking.

Derek was quite pleased to note that the man’s back

side was just as view-worthy as his front side. His back
was broad and finely muscled, tapering to a narrow
waist and the most beautiful bubble butt Derek had ever
seen outside of a skin magazine.

Luscious was the adjective that came to mind.

Delicious.

He shook his head to rid himself of his lecherous

thoughts, and tried again, clearing his throat loudly.

The man’s eyes, nut brown, sprung wide open. One

moment he was lying prone on the floor, looking sleepy
and dazed and sexy as hell, and the next , he was
crouched in a corner of the room, teeth bared, fingers
hooked into claws, looking positively feral.

“Whoa, whoa there, big fella! It’s okay... I was

surprised to see you, too,” Derek said, holding out his
hands. “I was alone when I went to sleep last night, you
know. Do you live here? Look, I’m really sorry, man. I
had the worst fucking day of my life yesterday. Couldn’t
find a motel in town, and my rental car broke down. I
had to hike for-fucking-ever, and when I saw the house,
I thought nobody lived here, so I--"

Something that sounded for all the world like a growl

rumbled in the man’s chest, stunning Derek into silence.
“No, I don’t live here. You talk too much. You don’t
have any bananas, do you? I’m allergic.”

Derek blinked, somewhat thrown off kilter by the

unusual question. “Bananas... no. Um, my name is
Derek MacCauffie. I’m a reporter for The Headline.
Have you seen the show?”

“I don’t watch TV. You smell good.”
He frowned, taken aback again by the strange

statement. Was the guy nuts? He took a small step

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 82

backward. “Really? Because I figured I must stink by
now. I need a shower, but I guess there’s no running
water in this place. What did you say you’re name was?”

“I didn’t, but it’s Kong.”
“Kong?” Derek repeated, not sure if he heard

correctly. “As in... King Kong?”

Kong’s eyes darkened, and his face crumpled in a

scowl. “Problem with that?”

“No, no!” Derek said. “It’s just... unusual. I think I’ll

just grab my bag and head out. Gotta get back to town
and get somebody to send a tow truck up here for my
car.” His senses were on full alert now. There was
definitely something wrong with the man who called
himself “Kong,” not the least of which was the fact that
he didn’t seem perturbed at all to be found totally naked
by a stranger.

“You’re afraid of me.” There was bald sadness in

Kong’s voice, which surprised Derek, and touched some
inner chord with him. It also niggled at the reporter
inside him, making him want to learn Kong’s story.

“No, I’m not afraid. It’s just that, well... it’s not every

day I wake up to find a good-looking naked guy in my
room, who tells me I smell good and that he’s allergic to
bananas.”

Kong’s lips titled in a wry grin. “I guess I sound

pretty nuts, huh? I’m not used to people anymore. I
don’t even think about having to wear clothes -- they're
just not very practical for me, and I really haven’t
needed them. I’ve more or less stayed away from
humans for the past several years.”

“H-humans? You say it like you’re not one.”
“I’m not. Well, not exactly. I’m a shapeshifter. My

other form is a gorilla. Kong. Get it?”

“I see,” Derek said, reaching for his duffle bag. That

sealed it. The guy was insane, and Derek was going to

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 83

put as much distance between them as he could before
Kong told him he wanted to use Derek’s skin for a coat,
or something else equally serial killer-ish. After all,
Derek was in a deserted house, in the middle of the
forest, miles and miles from civilization, in a room with
an unsettling stranger. Wasn’t that the basic setting of
every horror movie ever filmed?

“You don’t believe me.” Kong rose to his full height,

well over six feet by Derek’s estimation. His muscles
rippled under his skin, reminding Derek that if Kong
was a serial killer, then he was a drop dead sexy one.

Hadn’t Ted Bundy been good looking? Derek

couldn’t remember. He also couldn’t keep his eyes from
drifting over Kong’s fabulous body, at least not until he
remembered what all that serious muscle could do to a
guy of Derek’s height and weight. Kong looked as
though he could shred Derek into pieces with his bare
hands. “I don’t want any trouble. Really. I’ll just be on
my way--"

Kong sighed, and to Derek’s chagrin, moved to block

the door. “I’m not crazy, and I’ll prove it to you.
Watch.”

Derek felt his eyes bug out and a scream roil up,

tearing through his throat as Kong changed right before
his very eyes. Once a man, a heartbeat later, a gorilla.

A gorilla.
A shapeshifter! They were real!
For the second time in less than twelve hours, Derek

fainted.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 84

Chapter Nine

Kong winced as the man, Derek, slumped to the

ground. His head hit the floor with a hollow sounding
thump. “That’s going to leave a mark,” Kong said to no
one in particular, as he stepped closer and peered at
Derek’s unconscious form.

Derek was an attractive man. He had short-cropped,

brown hair, and his features were even and pleasant. His
body was much more slender than Kong’s, with leaner
muscles. When Derek moaned and blinked awake again,
Kong saw that he had forest green eyes.

Nice.
Not as nice as his smell, though. Derek smelled...

great.

He screamed like a girl, though, and seemed to do it

every five seconds. It was making Kong’s ears ring.

“Please stop,” Kong said. “You’re giving me a

headache.”

“What are you?” Derek asked. His voice remained

high-pitched, sounding on the verge of true hysteria.
What a baby, Kong thought. It’s not like I’m even in my
gorilla form. Kong rolled his eyes as Derek scooted
away from him.

“I’m a shapeshifter. What are you?” Kong grabbed

Derek’s ankle and pulled him back.

“Let me go!”
“Stop screaming.”
“I will if you let me go!”
“You’re still doing it.”
“You haven’t let me go, yet!”
Kong huffed. “This is getting us nowhere. Yeah, I’m

a shapeshifter. So what? Nobody’s perfect. What’s the
matter with you? Do you have something against
gorillas?”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 85

“Do I look like Dian Fossey to you? Let. Me. Go!”

Derek tried kicking his way free, but Kong had a good,
strong hold on his leg. He wasn’t going anywhere,
although Kong couldn’t quite decide why it was
important for Derek to stay. He just felt it was, and as
usual, Kong went with his gut.

“If I let you go, will you promise not to run? It’s

raining outside, and I don’t want to get wet again,”
Kong said.

“Please let me go!”
Kong sighed and released Derek’s leg.
The good news was that Kong was still between

Derek and the door, and he had no intention of moving
to let Derek pass. The bad news was that Derek looked
as if he might throw himself out of the window to get
away from Kong.

“Typical human. Always afraid of what you don’t

understand,” Kong said. He felt disgusted; evidently,
nothing had changed since he’d taken refuge in the
forests of Spokane. People were still stupid.

“Of course I’m afraid! You’re a fucking gorilla! A

shapeshifter... an honest to Christ shapeshifter! Holy
guacamole!” Derek squealed. He scrambled on his
hands and knees to the duffle bag and began rummaging
through it, taking out a couple of foil-wrapped bars and
bottles of water and tossing them to the floor. T-shirts, a
paperback novel, socks, a can of shaving cream, and
various other odds and ends flew over Derek’s shoulder,
littering the floor.

Kong blinked. In the space of a heartbeat, Derek’s

voice had gone from terrorized to something that
sounded suspiciously like awestruck. He reached over
and picked up one of the protein bars, peeled it open,
and began to eat it while he watched Derek curiously.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 86

He’s nuts, Kong thought. Somehow, the idea appealed
to him.

When Derek turned around, he had a small, handheld

tape recorder in his hand, which he shoved under
Kong’s nose. “This is Derek MacCauffie reporting live
from Dr. Woodster’s house in the Grand Tetons of
Wyoming. I’m here with... Kong, a shapeshifter. Kong,
how did you get to be this way? Were you bitten by
another shapeshifter? Can you change your shape
whenever you want, or does it have to be a full moon?
No, strike that... its broad daylight, and I just watched
you turn into a gorilla. I thought all shapeshifters were
wolves. Are there any more like you? How many?
Where are they? How have you kept hidden from
everyone else?”

The man has a mouth like the Energizer Bunny. Kong

reached out, plucked the tape recorder from Derek’s
hand. “No interviews, please,” he said, stuffing the rest
of the power bar into his mouth with his other hand. “I
value my privacy.”

“Hey! I need that!” Derek cried, trying to snatch the

tape recorder back.

“Fat chance. What Kong takes, Kong keeps.”
Derek sat back on his haunches, frowning. Kong had

to hand it to the human... he’d gotten over his fear of
Kong surprisingly quickly. “Kong, I told you before that
I’m a reporter. I risked everything -- my job, my
savings... everything – to get this story. Now, give me
back my damned tape recorder!”

“Too bad, so sad. Look, if I do an interview with you,

then everybody’s going to want to talk to me. Before you
know it, paparazzi are beating down my door, I’m doing
Letterman, and trying to keep Paris Hilton out of my
pants. Can’t have it. Sorry.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 87

Derek gaped at him. “You’re a few bananas short of a

hand, are you?”

“Oh, gorilla jokes? Really? You do realize I’m a

large primate with roughly the same amount of strength
as ten of you, right?” Kong smirked.

“Right now, you’re just a naked guy with protein bar

crumbs on his face.”

Kong laughed. He liked this guy. Not only was he

cute, he was either very brave or very foolish, or some
combination thereof that appealed to Kong’s quirky
personality. He tucked the tape recorder behind him,
leaned back against the wall, crossed his legs and folded
his arms across his chest. Kong didn’t miss the look in
Derek’s eyes as he watched Kong’s biceps pop. Well,
now that’s interesting, Kong thought. His cock,
completely disinterested up until a minute ago, suddenly
perked up. He also noticed that Derek’s eyes didn’t miss
that, either. “Clothes are overrated. They’re binding,
and those little tags on the neck of the shirts always itch.
Why do they always put those damn tags on the neck?
Why not put them at the bottom of the shirt, where they
won’t be so annoying?”

“It’s a plot by the fashion industry to annoy gorillas,”

Derek replied dryly. “Now, give me my tape recorder.”

“No can do. I didn’t live in the fucking forest like an

animal for the past ten years just to let you go blab about
me to the world. Here’s a newsflash: humans don’t like
me. They always want to put me into a cage, and I’m not
letting that happen, not ever again.”

“Somebody put you in a cage?” Derek asked, his

eyes widening. “Who would do that? You’re human,
right? I mean, humanoid, at least. Nobody has the right
to lock you up. That’s... inhumane!”

“Well, thank you, Mother Theresa. You’re all heart.

Quite the little humanitarian, aren’t you?”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 88

“There’s no need to get snotty about it. Who caged

you?”

Kong looked away for a minute as his memories

welled up, and he felt the pain of his youth all over
again. He swallowed it, but it left its mark in his eyes.
“My dad. He sold me to a carnival when he found out
what I could do.”

“Oh, man... that seriously sucks the big fat one. How

can anybody do that to their own kid? How long were
you there? You escaped, right?”

Kong grunted, rolling his eyes. “Obviously. I’m here,

aren’t I? I was there for five years. Five years of getting
whipped and fed garbage... they’re lucky I didn’t kill
them when I got out. The carnival was in Washington
State when I got free, just outside of Spokane.”

“They would’ve deserved it. How did you manage to

escape?”

Kong hated the pain that his memories still caused,

and felt the need to lighten things up again. He lowered
his voice into a deep, ominous timbre. “It was a dark and
stormy night...” He laughed at the incredulous look on
Derek’s face. “Just kidding. It was raining and foggy
when the carnival pulled out of town. There was an
accident, a bad one. My cage was nearly crushed, but I
was okay. I slipped out, and they never even noticed in
the chaos.

“I ran into the forest and stayed out of sight for years.

Then some stupid campers spotted me, and the next
thing I know, I’m tranked and shipped off to a Florida
theme park. They put me on display next to the
Savannah Safari ride.”

“How did you get away from the theme park?”
Kong averted his eyes for a minute. “Jeez, you have

more questions than an SAT. It’s starting to get
annoying.” He hated to admit it, but he owed Jax and

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 89

Dakota, and didn’t want to blow their cover, no matter
how much he was attracted to Derek. “I had a little help,
and before you ask, no, I won’t tell you who helped
me.”

“So, somebody else knows about your shapeshifting

abilities? Why haven’t they said anything?”

Oh, man... he’s a sharp one. “Change the subject. I

can’t talk about that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Both,” Kong said, stubbornly. “What are you doing

out here in the middle of God’s Hairy Ass, anyway? I
thought all big shot TV reporters lived in New York or
L.A.”

Derek smirked. “I do live in LA, but that’s about all

you got right. Reporter, yes. Big shot? No way. I’m just
a junior reporter... I get coffee for my boss and do all the
grunt work. A while back, I got a videotape from a
scientist named Woodster. The tape showed a
shapeshifter -- I could’ve sworn it was a werewolf, but I
guess I mistaken, since you’re a gorilla -- and I came out
here to get the story.”

Werewolf, huh? Oh, Jax, you bad, bad boy, Kong

thought, grinning inwardly. Of course, it could’ve been
another wolf-shifter from the ranch who’d gone and
gotten himself caught on tape, but it pleased Kong to no
end thinking it was Jax who’d goofed up big time. It
would serve the arrogant alpha right. “Yeah, I can see
how you’d confuse a wolf for a gorilla. They look so
much alike.”

“Sarcasm is your forte, isn’t it?”
“I’ve had a lot of time to work on perfecting it. So,

what does this guy, Woody, or whatever, have to say
about this video?” If someone was running around the
Grand Tetons filming shapeshifters, Kong would have

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 90

cause to be extra careful about staying hidden as he
worked his way down to a warmer, lower altitude.

“His name was Woodster, and he died before I got

the tape.”

“Well, that was convenient. You got anything else to

eat in that bag?”

“Huh?” Derek looked confused by the rapid switch of

subject. “Not much. All I had was a couple three of
those power bars and some water. I’ve got a single bottle
of water left, and not counting the one I gave you before,
only one protein bar. I didn’t plan on getting stuck out
here. My car got eaten by a ditch.”

Kong lifted an eyebrow. Derek was stranded out

here, totally at Kong’s mercy? His cock liked that idea...
a lot. It stiffened, and from the blush suffusing Derek’s
cheeks, Kong knew he’d noticed. Not that it was easy to
ignore -- everything about me is king-sized, he thought
smugly.

Suddenly, Derek gasped. “Hey... you said you have

the strength of ten men, right? Maybe you could pull my
car out of the hole it’s in!”

“Do I look like Triple A to you?”
“Come on, man. Help me out here. I’m stuck with no

food, little water, and I’ve already probably lost my job.
You won’t let me tape an interview with you... the least
you can do is give me a hand with my car.”

“No, the least I can do is not eat you.” Not that he

would mind eating Derek. He’d like to start with that
very kissable mouth and work his way all the down to
Derek’s toes.

“Gorillas don’t eat people.”
“Since when are you a gorilla expert?”
“Everyone knows that.”
“Define ‘everyone.’”
“Come on, are you going to help me, or not?”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 91

“Not.”
Derek scowled at him. “Fine. Be that way. I’m out of

here.” He jumped up and began picking up his things,
stuffing them back into his duffle bag, muttering under
his breath. Kong caught the words, “stupid gorilla,” and
“stubborn primate,” among other less flattering epithets.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kong asked,

watching as Derek shoved his feet into his tennis shoes
and shouldered his duffle.

“Home. I’ll probably have to walk the whole way, no

thanks to you. It’s been real,” Derek said, his voice
dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s raining outside.”
“What do you care? Maybe I’ll catch pneumonia

while I’m at it. That’d be just par for the course.”

Kong was torn. He didn’t want Derek to leave. He’d

been alone for too long, and although he was shocked at
how much he was enjoying Derek’s company, he knew
he didn’t want their encounter to end. Not yet, anyway.
On the other hand, he couldn’t force Derek to stay...
well, he could, but he wouldn’t. For all his mouthy
bragging about his strength and ferocity, Kong knew
he’d never allow himself to hurt Derek.

Kong stood up and looked at the tape recorder in his

hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting it Derek. “You can have
your stupid tape recorder back. Don’t go.” He hated the
note in voice that sounded like begging, but it’d been so
long -- never, now that he thought about it -- that he’d
had a conversation with someone who wasn’t either
terrified of him or thought he was a total basket case,
that he didn’t want Derek to leave. Without putting it
into words, he knew he was starving for human
interaction.

Derek looked at the recorder with longing, but made

no effort to take it. “No, keep it. As much as I want to

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 92

do this story, I won’t be the one responsible for putting
you back in a cage.”

For the first time, it was Kong’s turn to gape. “But...

that’s what you came out here for, right? To expose the
shapeshifter? To get your story, no matter what? That
doesn’t make sense, even for a human.”

“Yeah, well, I’m probably not going to survive

getting back, so it’s no big deal.” Derek only sounded as
if he was half-joking. The look on his face was
absolutely grim.

“If I promise to help you get your car out of the ditch,

will you at least stay the night?”

Derek looked surprised and excessively suspicious.

“You’ll help me?”

Kong shrugged and averted his eyes. He hoped he

didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. “Yeah, I guess.
What kind of a car is it? I don’t want to bust my nuts
trying to move a Hummer.”

Derek chuckled and looked delighted. “It’s a fucking

Smart Car.”

Kong snorted. “You’re kidding! I heard my handlers

talking about them at the theme park. Aren’t they, like,
tin cans on wheels?”

Derek nodded. “It wasn’t my idea, I swear. I wanted

an SUV, but it was the only car available at the rental
agency, or so the demon-woman at the counter said.”

“Man, she must’ve hated you on sight. Okay, then. In

the morning, we’ll go see if I can haul it out of the ditch
for you.” Kong felt his cheeks heat up when Derek
grinned broadly at him and thanked him effusively.
“Come on, knock it off. It’s not like I’m offering you a
kidney or anything.”

“Are you serious? You’re saving my life, man.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what gorillas do best. Not,” Kong

replied. He enjoyed sharing a laugh with Derek and felt

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 93

inordinately relieved as Derek plopped the duffle back
down. It was a most unusual feeling for Kong, this
newfound camaraderie with a human. He liked it.

“So, what are we going to do all day?” Derek asked,

sitting down again. He looked up at Kong expectantly.

I can think of about a dozen things I’d like to do with

you, and five different positions for each, Kong thought,
joining Derek on the floor. His cock was still hard, and
he glanced down at it, then up at Derek with a hitched
grin on his face. “I don’t suppose you’re into gorillas,
huh?”

To his utter disbelief, Derek returned his grin.

“Gorillas, not so much. Guys, absolutely.” He gestured
toward Kong’s hard-on. “I’ve sort of got the same
problem, by the way, although since I’m wearing pants,
something you seem to abhor, it’s not as obvious.”

“Hey, that sounds like nude envy to me. Nobody’s

forcing you to keep your britches on, you know,” Kong
retorted. A dare was in his grin, and he was thrilled
when Derek rose to the challenge.

It was at that moment that an amazing thought

occurred to him. Sometime between the moment Derek
woke up screaming and now, something had changed
between them, Kong realized. They’re relationship had
evolved from strangers to reporter-and-possible story
and into the realm of friendship. Friends, Kong thought.
I never really had one, not since Tim. The memory of
his best friend growing up -- followed closely by the one
of Tim’s horror when Kong shifted -- stuck in his craw,
and choked him.

But then, to Kong's amazement, Derek quickly

stripped out of his clothing and was standing in front of
Kong in his birthday suit.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 94

Kong forgot about feeling sad. He forgot about

everything, really, as lust surged through his veins,
hardening his cock to the aching point.

Derek’s body without clothes was just as Kong had

pictured it would be -- long, lean muscles, flat belly,
hairless chest, and nipples the color of pale, pink roses.
The hair at his groin (practically the only hair on his
body, as opposed to Kong’s far more hirsute state) was a
russet color, darker by several shades than his chestnut
hair. Derek’s cock was slender and pale and as erect as
Kong’s own.

Yummy.
Derek lowered himself to the floor, sitting back on

his haunches with a look of expectation on his face.

Well, never let it be said that Kong was one to

disappoint.

Looking much more like a predator than a man about

to get laid for the first time, Kong advanced on Derek,
crawling forward on all fours.

To his delight, Derek didn’t back away, but met him

head-on in a hungry, scorching kiss that drew a deep
growl of pleasure from the center of Kong’s chest.

He was about to learn that there were definite

benefits to staying in his human shape, beginning with
the feel of Derek’s hand stroking his dick.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 95

Chapter Ten

How long had it been since Derek had had sex? A

month, at least, maybe three... or more. His dry spell had
lasted too long. When he thought about it, the time
seemed to melt into the indistinct number of “many.”

His body was starving for sex, although he’d not

realized it until Kong made a move. He was hard
already, wet with pre-come. It wasn’t going to take
much to push him over the edge.

That he was about to have sex with someone who

wasn’t quite human never really entered his mind. All he
saw was a handsome, tough guy, the exact sort of man
who’d always attracted Derek, crawling toward him on
hands and knees. There was a hungry look in Kong’s
dark eyes that sent a thrill of erotic longing through
Derek -- he couldn’t ever remember seeing a man want
him so much.

Nor did he ever want a man so much himself. He felt

like he wanted to attack Kong, to wrap himself up in
Kong’s body until he was breathless and drained. He
lost control, then, launching himself at Kong like a
missile.

They met at the mouth in a kiss that curled Derek’s

toes and teased more pre-come from his cock. “Oh, man.
Oh, just... fuck.”

“I intend to,” Kong growled against his lips.
That promise, more than anything else, ignited

Derek’s smoldering need into an all-out conflagration.
He moaned, sliding his hands over the muscles of
Kong’s shoulders and arms. They felt like velvet-
wrapped steel under his fingers.

Slipping an arm between them, he fisted Kong’s

cock. Good grief, the man was gifted, truly blessed.
Kong's dick was fat and long, a true handful. He pumped

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 96

his hips, jabbing the head of his own cock into Kong’s
thigh. He wanted to be touched, too. Damn it.

Kong was quick on the uptake. His hand was

calloused, and provided extra friction against the
delicate skin of Derek’s prick. “Fuck, yeah. Like that,”
he gasped, as Kong began to stroke him.

Kong was making noises that sounded like erotic

music to Derek’s ears, moans and raspy sounds that
weren’t really words. Derek felt moisture in his hand,
slicking Kong’s cock. “Gonna come, Derek.”

“Good. Come. Fucking come, Kong,” Derek urged.

He looked down between them, wanting to see. His own
prick jumped as Kong came. “Oh, fuck, that’s pretty!”
he cried, then let his orgasm roll through him, his hand
closing over Kong’s, helping the man stroke him
through to the end.

They broke apart, grinning at one another, both of

them a sticky, sated mess. “Wow. That was... good.
Really good,” Kong said. He had a loopy sort of smile
on his face, the kind a man gets after experiencing a
mind-blowing orgasm. Derek knew exactly how he felt.

Derek wasn’t a virgin, not by a long shot, but no

other lover had ever given him the kind of climax that
made his eyes roll back in head. And all they’d done
was pull one off together! He couldn’t imagine what it
would be like to actually have Kong suck him off, or
fuck him. A sense of anticipation filled him; without a
doubt, he felt sure he was going to find out, and the
knowledge thrilled him. He was too happy, too satisfied
to wonder why he thought he’d be with Kong long
enough to have sex again. He just did, and that was good
enough for now. He didn’t want to ruin the moment by
admitting he was leaving in the morning, as soon as
Kong fished his car out of the hole.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 97

His last thought before cuddling up against Kong and

drifting off into an exhausted sleep was that if he was
extremely lucky, perhaps once Kong freed his car, it
wouldn’t start.

***

Kong rolled to his back and lazily scratched himself.

He squinted against the beam of light that shone in
through the bedroom window. When had it gotten to be
morning? The last thing he remembered was collapsing
in a boneless heap on the old, tarp-covered mattress in a
tangle of arms and legs with Derek.

Derek.
The thought of him made Kong’s chest swell with

joy. He hadn’t known, hadn’t really understood what sex
was, or how it could make a man feel completed and
smugly possessive -- all he’d done before was jerk off
all by his lonesome. Now that he knew what it felt like,
had experienced what Derek’s mouth could do to him,
what Derek's talented fingers could do, Kong wanted to
do nothing else. Not eat. Not sleep. Just fuck. Too bad
his body couldn’t keep up. He’d fallen asleep almost
instantly after their second go-round the night before.

Just thinking about Derek’s head bobbing over

Kong’s thighs as his mouth and tongue worked Kong’s
cock, made Kong hard again.

It was more than just the act, he thought. For the first

time in his life, Kong realized what people meant when
they spoke about “afterglow.” It was a feeling deep
inside, a gentle warmth that suffused the body from head
to toe. It was a longing to be with the one who’d
touched a part of you that you never even knew existed
and made you want to stay, to never leave, to hold him
close forever.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 98

He smiled contentedly and rolled over, draping his

arm over Derek’s body.

Then he remembered what he was going to do today,

and his mood instantly spoiled. It was morning, and he’d
promised Derek he’d help pull Derek’s car out of the
ditch.

Derek was leaving.
Well, fuck.
His mind raced, trying to figure out a way to delay

the inevitable. He didn’t want Derek to leave, that was
for sure, but he didn’t want to break his promise, either.
For some reason Kong couldn’t quite grasp, he wanted
Derek to think highly of him.

Well, double fuck.
A startled squeak caught his attention, and he turned

to see Derek staring at him wide-eyed.

Oops. Old habits evidently died hard. He’d shifted

during his sleep. He grunted and swiftly changed into
his human form. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I was just surprised, that’s all. It’s

actually kind of cool,” Derek said. His smile was easy
and reassured Kong. At least he hadn’t tried to run away
screaming again.

Kong’s belly rumbled loudly, and he watched

gratefully as Derek grabbed the last of the power bars,
splitting it with him. “These are the last of my supplies,”
Derek said, tearing open the wrapper. “I guess we
should dress and go see about getting my car free, huh?”

Kong nodded, feeling miserable. He ate the power

bar in morose silence, his appetite suddenly gone.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked. The hand he placed

on Kong’s shoulder was warm.

“Nothing. Just tired, I guess,” Kong lied. He knew he

sounded abrupt, but he couldn’t help it. He was sure
Derek, a human with a normal social life, couldn’t have

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 99

felt the same connection Kong did, and he refused to
embarrass himself by telling Derek how he felt. It’s
better this way, he thought sadly. “Come on, get
dressed, and we’ll go see if we can haul your car out of
the ditch.”

“What about you? You can’t go traipsing through the

forest in the nude.”

“Sure I can. I do it all the time. I’ll be waiting

downstairs.” He got up and left the room, stomping
down the stairs to the first floor of the house. He knew
he wasn’t being reasonable, but after all, that had never
stopped him before. When Kong felt something, he felt
it strongly; he wasn’t used to hiding his feelings, and he
knew he was doing a bad job of it.

He also didn’t care.
“Hey, did I do something to piss you off?” Derek

said, as he tripped lightly down the stairs, his duffle
slung over one shoulder.

“No.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
Kong tossed him a sardonic glare, but refused to

answer. The last thing he wanted was Derek feeling
sorry for the poor gorilla-man who was so pathetic, he
didn’t want a virtual stranger to leave him alone.
“Daylight’s wasting, that’s all. I thought you wanted to
get back to LA? That’s not going to happen with you
standing there jawing at me.”

He gave Derek no choice but to follow him as he

shifted into his gorilla form and tramped out of the
house. He didn’t need to shift -- he was more than used
to walking through the woods nude -- but it gave him a
ready-made excuse not to talk to Derek or answer any
questions.

It didn’t mean he was any more comfortable. With

his gorilla form came the heightened senses of his

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 100

animal-self. The grass was still wet from the rain the
night before, and everything smelled so good, fresh and
fragrant, but all Kong could smell was Derek. He was so
acutely sensitive to Derek's scent and warmth, that the
awareness was almost painful. All he could think about
was Derek, too, about how Derek had made him feel,
and about how he’d never see Derek again after he freed
Derek’s car.

What a loser I am! Kong thought. Do you think he’s

sorry he has to leave you? He probably hasn’t given it a
second thought. To him, all we had was a one-night
stand. It means nothing.

Except to me.
All of which put Kong in a decidedly worsening

mood.

Still, he’d made a promise, and he was going to keep

it, even if it killed him to do so. He tried to take his
aggression out on the surrounding fauna. Instead of
pushing branches out of the way, he ripped them off the
trees, broke them, and tossed them away. He pulled
vegetation out by the roots and threw rocks as far as he
could.

Derek didn’t seem to notice. He peppered Kong with

questions, all of which were met with sullen silence
(easy to do since Kong remained in his gorilla form,
despite Derek’s pleas for him to shift) as they hiked
around the lake. He refused to shift and answer because
he felt sure Derek would think him pathetic, and that
was the last thing Kong wanted. Better Derek should
think him an asshole, or crazy, like the people at the
ranch. He might be a gorilla, and he might be lonely and
miserable, but he had his pride, such as it was.

The car was exactly as Derek had told him it would

be, stuck half-in and half-out of a deep hole. It was
probably a sinkhole, Kong thought, eyeing the wide

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 101

crack in the earth. Too much rain and an unstable patch
of ground could cause a hole to open up, and this one
had hungrily eaten half of Derek’s car. He carefully
tested the edge of the hole to see if it would hold his
weight or suck him in along with the car.

The Smart Car was positively tiny, though. Kong

eyed it, wondering how Derek could fold his tall body to
fit inside. He must’ve looked ridiculous, driving this
thing. Not that Kong had any experience driving cars.
His father had sold him to the carnival before he’d been
old enough to get his driver’s license.

Kong knuckle-walked around the side of the ditch

and got a good grip on the car’s rear bumper. He yanked
with all his strength.

He swore loudly and stumbled back when the bumper

suddenly pulled away from the rest of the car with a
metallic shriek. He offered the bumper to Derek, whose
eyes rolled.

“It’s not going to do me a helluva lot of good if you

take it out of the ditch one piece at a time,” Derek said.
“Could you grab something a little more substantial this
time?”

Kong grunted, thinking there was something

substantial on Derek that he’d like to grab, but the
thought only made him sadder, and he turned back to the
car. He’d never get to touch Derek like that again, and
the thought made him angry. He slipped his fingers
under the chassis and roared as he wrenched the car
from out of the ditch, walking backward until all four
tires touched solid ground.

“You did it! Thanks, Kong!” Derek cried. He

sounded overjoyed.

Of course, he’s happy, Kong thought, as envy ate at

his gut. He has a life to get back to. What do I have to
look forward to? Sleeping on leaves and chewing on

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 102

roots, alone for the rest of my life, that’s what. Oh,
lucky, lucky me.

He watched as Derek slid behind the wheel (much

more easily than Kong would’ve thought, considering
the tiny space), and tried to crank the engine over.

“Tried” being the operative word.
The motor sort of groaned, then hiccupped, then died

as it belched out a black, smelly cloud.

Kong sneezed and shifted into his man form, waving

his hand in front of his nose. “Is it supposed to do that?”

Derek glared at him. “No, it’s not supposed to do

that. It’s supposed to start!” As Kong watched with
interest, Derek got out of the car and popped up the
hood. “Damn it! This thing is fried.”

“How can you tell?” Kong asked, peering over

Derek’s shoulder. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the
jumble of metal and plastic under the hood.

“Well, I’m not a mechanic, but I don’t think all these

wires are supposed to be melted together,” Derek said,
indicating a glob of liquefied plastic. He slammed the
hood down in obvious disgust and peered under the car.
He pointed to a black puddle soaking into the earth. “It’s
also not supposed to be vomiting oil. Now what am I
supposed to do? It’s at least fifty miles back to town.
It’ll take me a couple of days to hike back down there,
and I’m completely out of food and almost out of
water!”

Kong looked away for a long moment. “You could

stay with me.” He felt Derek’s eyes on him and forced
himself to turn back, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Not
forever, I mean. I’m not that stupid. I know you’d never
want to hang out permanently with a freak like me. I just
meant that I can take you to the Shifting Sands Ranch.
It’s only a few miles from here. The people there can
give you a ride into town.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 103

Derek surprised him by cupping his face with gentle

hands. “Hey, I don’t think you’re stupid or a freak.
Strange, odd, peculiar, and infinitely sexy, but not stupid
or freakish,” he said with a smile. “You shouldn’t talk
down about yourself. You’re an amazing man, Kong.”

Kong suddenly felt shy and knew his blush had

intensified, but Derek’s words warmed him. “Really?
Thanks. Nobody ever thought I was amazing before --
not in a good way, anyway.”

“Well, I do. You know, you don’t have to stay here,

Kong. You could come home with me. I could help you
get set up, find a job...”

Kong was flabbergasted. His first thought of

“absolutely not!” was swiftly followed by “why not?”
He’d never tried living among humans as one of them
before, not since he’d escaped the carnival all those
years ago. Was it possible? Could he learn to be... just
human? “You would do that for me?”

“Sure. I’ve got a two bedroom apartment. You can

stay with me until you get on your feet. Nobody has to
know that you’re a shapeshifter, unless you want them
to.”

“What about your story? Your job?”
Derek grinned. “What story? As far as I’m

concerned, Dr. Woodster had it all wrong. It was a large
dog that he caught on film. Not a werewolf, and
definitely not a gorilla. As for my job, well, I’ll find
another one. Maybe not in television, but there must be a
newspaper somewhere that’s hiring a good copy writer.”

Kong didn’t know what to say and decided it was

easier to just let nature do the talking. He pulled Derek
into his arms and gave Derek a brutal, crushing kiss.
Newfound excitement dispelled his bad mood. “Come
on. We can be at the ranch before lunchtime if we
hustle.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 104

Chapter Eleven

Marcy was riding high on a euphoric cloud of

conceit. She’d gone from zero to hero in no time flat
after her phone call to Walter Vicks. He’d been thrilled
to learn that she had a nose for lighter news after she
told him about the Woodster werewolf story, even going
as far as to apologize for misjudging her. He’d
cheerfully asked her why on earth she hadn’t mentioned
the story to him earlier.

“I’m so sorry, Walter. It just never occurred to me

that you might actually want to use it! I was afraid you’d
think I wasn’t being serious about the job. You know
how it is for women in this business... I was worried
you’d think I was just another skirt without half a brain
in my head. I can learn so much from you! I’ll never feel
afraid to come to you with a possible story lead again.
Cross my heart.”

He’d bought it.
Stupid bastard.
Then again, Marcy hadn’t met a man yet who could

match her stroke for underhanded stroke, including her
boss. They were all so gullible! All she usually had to do
was bat her eyes and wiggle her ass, or act demure and
unsure of herself, helpless, and they’d fall all over
themselves to get her what she wanted.

She’d learned her lesson the hard way when she’d

been hired on at the network as an intern.

“Marcy, get me coffee.”
“Marcy, pick up that pen from the floor before

somebody trips on it. That’s it... bend over a little more,
hon...”

“If you want that promotion, you know what you

have to do, Marcy.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 105

She’d done it, too, on desks and couches, in cheap

motels and executive bathrooms, on top of copy
machines and in screening rooms while dailies played to
an audience of two.

The lesson she’d learned was that many men in

power abused it; why they did it, how they used their
power to fulfill their own desires, and once she was in
the position to do the same, she hadn’t hesitated. The
victim became the abuser, the sheep became the lion. It
was the circle of life in the business world, as far as she
was concerned, a game she eventually excelled at.

As for those few who didn’t seem overly impressed

by her curves or her charms, like Derek MacCauffie, she
merely had to drop pretenses and show them her real,
unvarnished self.

It always amused her to watch them scatter like

frightened rabbits.

Derek was the perfect example of that. After their

confrontation over his werewolf story, he’d disappeared
off the face of the earth. He didn’t answer his home
phone or cell phone. Coward. Not that it mattered
anymore. Now that she had use for his story, it was just
as well that he’d disappeared. It saved her the trouble of
discrediting and firing him.

Vicks, having had his masculine ego inflated by her

almost to the popping point, had immediately given her
the go-ahead to use whatever means necessary to get the
story ready to air and put the network’s considerable
resources at her disposal. In a mere two hours she’d
picked through Derek’s research -- the boy had been
thorough, she’d give him that much -- and had the story
roughed out on paper. Together with a selection of old
clips from a few werewolf movies, and another few
hours riding roughshod over the writers to get the script
finished, the show was ready to go into production.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 106

She was walking into her office when her secretary,

Ursula, a woman Marcy liked to think of as more of a
guard dog than an executive assistant, waved a pink
piece of paper at her. “Ms. Jarvis, I’m so sorry. I took
this message for you yesterday, but it must have fallen
off my desk. I found it on the floor. It’s from that new
junior reporter, Derek, the one you said was missing. He
called from his cell phone. He sounded very excited and
very insistent that you get his message.” She barked a
short laugh. “They’re always very insistent you get the
message. Those junior reporters all think they’ve latched
onto the biggest story ever told. If I said it once, I’ve
said it a thousand times, you’re much too busy to care
about--"

Marcy was tempted to tell Ursula to throw the

message away since, as far as Marcy was concerned,
Derek was no longer in her employ, but then thought
again. What could he be excited about? Unless... what if
he hadn’t gone to a funeral at all? What if he’d gone
ahead and pursued the werewolf story against her wishes
and found something new? Her curiosity was piqued.
She put up her hand, cutting Ursula off just as surely as
if Marcy had slapped Ursula. “Excited about what?”

“I’m not sure, but he said it had something to do with

a story you didn’t want him to do. Said he had some
kind of lead that he needed to check out. Personally, I
can’t understand why he’d go after a story you told him
to drop. These young reporters are all so full of
themselves. No respect for authority--”

Marcy didn’t wait for Ursula to finish her diatribe.

She snatched the pink While You Were Out message
from Ursula’s hand, stomped into her office, and
slammed the door shut behind her.

Her suspicions were correct. Derek had gone after a

lead in the werewolf story, the one she’d just taken

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 107

credit for landing and sent into production. What sort of
lead could he have gotten?

Whatever it was, it had to be substantial for him to

risk her ire by admitting he wasn’t at a funeral, but had
gone out after a story she’d already told him to dump.
According to the message, he was in some pissant little
town in Wyoming, heading to Woodster’s house.

Vicks was so happy about the stupid werewolf story...

The wheels in Marcy’s brain began spinning in
overdrive. If Derek finds anything worthwhile and
brings it back here, Vicks may find out the story wasn’t
my idea. Or, if Derek finds out I scooped him, he might
take whatever he’s learned and go to another network
with it, or the tabloids. Maybe I ought to go out to
Woodster’s place and take a look see myself. I could use
a few days away from here, anyway. She tapped her
nails on against the bright pink paper as she formulated
a plan. Might as well bring a cameraman along, too.
Film some footage of the house and the lake. Get some
wildlife shots in, too, and talk to the locals about the
doctor. Derek’s research indicated Woodster had been
discredited by his peers. I could bring that into the story,
too. Even if this new lead -- whatever it is -- doesn't pan
out, I could still stretch what I’ve already got into two
segments, maybe even three! she thought gleefully.

Her decision made, she got on the horn and ordered

Ursula to make flight and hotel arrangements -- first
class all the way, of course. She also instructed Ursula to
have a helicopter waiting for her at the airport in
Wyoming and a cameraman pulled from The Headline
crew to accompany her. There was no way she was
going to trust anybody from their affiliates in Wyoming
with her story. She dropped the phone in its cradle and
grabbed her purse, content that she had it all covered.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 108

All she had left to do was to go home and throw a

few things in a suitcase.

***

She stood on the sidewalk of what passed for Main

Street in Cedar Creek, Wyoming, her hands planted
firmly on her hips. The cameraman waited patiently
behind her. He’d known her long enough to know when
to leave her the fuck alone, and now was one of those
times.

The helicopter had to land in a field just outside of

town (no helipads in Hooterville, the pilot, a man who
barely looked old enough to shave, let alone fly a
multimillion dollar piece of equipment, had cheerfully
informed her). After landing, she’d had to walk nearly a
half mile over muddy fields and rough roads in her
Manolo Blahniks.

They were as ruined as her mood.
There’s nothing here, she noted. Literally. A Piggly

Wiggly Market, which sounded like something out of
Petticoat Junction and looked like a glorified Seven-
Eleven, sat between a salon called “The Beauty
Chateau,” (she strongly doubted anyone who patronized
such a dive would know the definition of either of those
words), and the First National bank. Across the street
there was a gas station and a post office. There was also
a tiny diner (she cringed at what she surmised would
pass as food there. Fried possum patties and squirrel
stew, no doubt) and a police station. That was the extent
of Main Street.

She suppressed a shudder. How can anyone stand to

live here? It looks positively medieval! I’ll bet there’s
not even a decent sushi place within five hundred miles.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 109

Shaking off the sudden urge to run to the helicopter

and fly back to LA before any of the hokey, rustic
atmosphere rubbed off on her, she crooked a finger at
the cameraman to follow, and began walking.

The gas station was the most obvious first stop. Two

old men, neither of whom could be under seventy and
both dressed in matching, greasy coveralls, were sitting
in lawn chairs in front of the station, drinking Cokes out
of honest-to-Christ glass bottles.

They looked up at her approach, but neither stood up,

although both smiled and nodded pleasantly at her.
“Help you, ma’am?”

The second man gestured toward the camera. “You

got a camera, there? Are we on the TV? Hey, George,
we’re on the TV! Ain’t that something? Say hello to
Mabel. She’ll get a kick out of it.”

George beamed a wide, gap-toothed smile into the

camera, which of course, wasn’t filming, but merely
being balanced on the cameraman’s shoulder. Marcy
resisted rolling her eyes when the old man lifted his
Coke in salute. “Hey there, Mabel! It’s me... George.
I’m on the TV!”

“Um, gentlemen,” Marcy said, affecting her best

“little girl lost” expression. “Maybe you can help me.
I’m looking for a man named Derek MacCauffie. He’s
about six feet tall, with brown hair. I think he came
through town yesterday or the day before.”

“Oh, you mean the fella in the clown car! She means

the fella in the clown car, George. You remember him,
don’t you?” the first man said, elbowing George.

“Of course I remember. I ain’t got Old Timers, you

fool. Fella came through here yesterday, driving one of
them new Smarter Cars, or whatever they call ‘em. Little
sardine can, is what I call ‘em. Things ain’t worth two

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 110

tits on a bull in the high country, if you ask me. Ain’t
that right, Fred?”

“True enough. Those cars ain’t built for these

mountains. One good pothole and the damn thing is like
as not to fall apart under your ass! Uh, pardon the
language, ma’am. What you need up here is a good,
solid truck, like a Ram.”

“That’s a fact. Ford builds ‘em tough, just like the

commercials say. Bought my first F-150 back in, oh...
seventy nine, I think. Beauty, she was. As red as a
whore’s lips... oh, sorry ma’am. Lasted me a good
twenty years, too. Why, I remember--"

Marcy barely resisted reaching out and slapping the

old man silly. Instead, she cleared her throat. “Um,
about Derek...?”

“Oh, yeah.” George swept off his ball cap, revealing

a shiny pate, which he daubed with a handkerchief
before replacing his hat. “Don’t know where the young
fella got off to. Ain’t seen him since he pulled out of
here. Think he went off up Route 48. Ain’t nothing up
there but forest and the Shifting Sands Ranch.”

The name caught her attention. She was up there

chasing a story about shapeshifters, and there -- rather
coincidentally, was a ranch whose name contained part
of that word! Her reporter’s instinct kicked in, insisting
there had to be a connection. As much as she wanted to
leave these two geezers in her dust, she needed to know
more. She pulled out a small notepad from her pocket,
and a pen. “Shifting Sands Ranch? What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s a big outfit,” Fred said. “They own several

square miles of land up there. Lots of cattle, some
produce. Nice enough folks, but they don’t hire townies.
Never could figure out why. They pump a lot of money
into town, always fuel up when they drive down. Built

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 111

us that new fire station across the street and bought the
new pumper, too. Ain’t that right, George?”

“Yes, sir. Built us a new school a couple years back,

too. Always buy their goods from the locals, too. Get
their gas right here, and buy their produce from over at
Evergreen Farms. They keep their money in the First
National, too. Nice folks, quiet though. Keep to
themselves, mostly.”

“What about a Dr. Woodster? Ever hear of him?” she

asked next.

George looked surprised. “Ol’ Elvin? Why sure!

Peculiar as a one-eyed potato, but he wasn’t a bad sort.
He’d come into town once a week or so for supplies.
Sometimes he’d sit for a game of checkers. He died a
couple of years ago. Poor guy. His people put him in
one of them old folks’ homes, and he didn’t last but a
couple three years there. We didn’t even know he was
gone, not until Ethel over at the Piggly Wiggly realized
she hadn’t seen him in a good long while and sent the
Sheriff up to his house and found it empty. Sheriff
called Elvin’s nephew, and the whole story come out.”

Fred nodded. “He had that old folks’ disease.

Couldn’t remember his own name at the end, or so his
nephew said. A real shame, too. He was a bona fide
professor, had a room full of diplomas to prove it. Even
wrote a couple of books, though I ain’t never seen any
down at the Barnes and Noble in Jackson with his name
on it.”

She scribbled notes on her pad, barely looking up at

the men. “You say he was peculiar? How so?”

George picked up the thread of the story. “Oh, he

used to go on about werewolves and the like. Now, up
here, we got us some tall tales for sure about odd
creatures. Folks around here tell of seeing some mighty
strange animals wandering in the woods, animals that by

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 112

rights shouldn’t be in Wyoming, like rhinos and tigers
and whatnot, but Ol’ Elvin believed they were... what’d
he call them, Fred?”

Fred looked pensive for a moment. “Shapeshitters, I

think.”

“Yeah. Can you believe that? All that education, him

being a doctor and all, and he believed in those old fairy
tales? Well, I already said he was peculiar. Smart as a
whip, but just not right in the head.”

“Imagine that,” Marcy said. “Do you know where Dr.

Woodster’s house is? I have an address.” She fished out
her organizer and pushed a couple of buttons. “788
Powers Road.”

“Oh, sure. That’s up at Lake Simon. Ain’t nothing

there, though. Nobody ever bought it, though I hear the
Shifting Sands has been asking after it. Guess they’ll
just raze it and use it for pasture. Nice lake up there on
that property, but the house must be falling to pieces by
now. What you want to do is take Highway 27 for about
twenty miles, to Route 48 North, then--" Fred said,
pointing in a northwesterly direction.

“No, it’s twenty five miles, if it’s a yard,” George cut

in. “Take 48 for another fifty or so, to Powers Road.
You got to look careful-like for the road. It ain’t easy to
spot unless you know where you’re going.”

“It ain’t fifty miles up to Powers Road! Hell, it’s only

that far to the ranch, and that’s way after the turnoff for
Powers.”

“You’re out of your mind. The ranch ain’t but a

couple three miles from ol’ Doc Woodster’s place!”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Marcy broke in. She

couldn’t stomach the smell of grease and old people for
another moment, not to mention that their inane
bickering was getting on her last nerve. “I think I have
all the information I need.” She forced herself to smile at

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 113

them one last time and walked away, heading back in
the direction she’d come.

Behind her, the old men continued to argue over the

distance between Powers Road and the Shifting Sands
Ranch, but she put them out of her mind with little
effort. She needed to get back to the helicopter.

She’d gotten enough filler material on the town, but

that Shifting Sands Ranch sounded interesting. What
sort of ranch didn’t hire anyone from town, preferring to
import labor? If the ranch was indeed as large as the old
men had claimed, they must need several dozen hands to
keep it running. It sounded suspicious to her, and she
quickly decided her next move.

She’d order the helicopter to do a fly-over the

property. That way she might be able to see what -- if
anything – untoward was happening at the Shifting
Sands Ranch. If there was something promising, well...
it was a ranch, they must have pastureland, and the
chopper could land. The trip would only take a few
minutes by air, rather than an hour or more by car. Then
they’d head over to Woodster’s cabin. Hopefully, there
would be somewhere suitable to land nearby, and Derek
would still be there. Once she had the information about
the lead he’d phoned in about, she’d fire him and rid
herself of the worry that he’d tell Vicks she’d stolen his
story.

She felt no remorse at the thought of stealing the

story, or of terminating him. It was a cutthroat business
in the world of cable news shows. Merciless. Dog-eat-
dog.

And if there was one thing Marcy Jarvis prided

herself on, it was being a ruthless bitch. She motioned
for the cameraman to keep up as she stalked back to the
chopper.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 114

Chapter Twelve

A frown creased JD’s small forehead. The grownups

were acting all funny, and he didn’t like it one bit. They
weren’t being ha-ha funny, like when Daddy put
breadsticks up his nose, but strange funny. They were
all running around, looking for somebody named
“Kong.” Uncle Jax was angry, Uncle Dakota was
worried, and Mommy and Daddy kept giving each other
looks like they always did when they had a secret they
didn’t want JD to know about. Even Grandma Deidre
and Grandpa Oscar didn’t have time for him. Everyone
was out looking for this Kong, whoever he was, and JD
had been told to stay inside the house.

He didn’t want to stay inside. He was a big boy now

(everybody said so), and wanted to help find Kong, but
Mommy and Daddy told him he’d get lost. JD had never
gotten lost, ‘cause he never went anywhere alone, but he
figured it must be a bad thing ‘cause the grownups were
all upset that Kong had gone and gotten himself lost.

The grownups had locked the front door. JD peered

up at the doorknob and thought the lock open. He could
make things move whenever he wanted, just by thinking
hard at it. Mommy and Uncle Mal could do it, too,
although Mommy and Daddy said he shouldn’t. Just
‘cause it’s easier doesn’t make it right, Daddy said.
They wouldn’t mind this one time, though, right? He
had to use his mind, because the lock was way up high,
and his fingers couldn’t reach it. Besides, he was going
to help them find Kong, so they could come back home
and watch cartoons with him before his bedtime.

There was nobody out on the front porch or in the

front yard, although he could hear Uncle Dakota’s deep
voice calling for Kong in the distance.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 115

JD carefully made his way down the porch steps and

around Uncle Jax’s truck. Once, JD had made Uncle
Jax’s truck come alive, like he did with his toy horses. It
had been so funny! The truck made a big hole in the
fence and chased the cows around the pasture. But then
Uncle Jax had been angry and made JD promise to
never, ever do it again. Uncle Jax said JD had to listen to
him because Uncle Jax was the Alpha and everybody
had to do what Uncle Jax said, even Uncle Dakota.
Uncle Dakota had made a face behind Uncle Jax’s back,
and JD had to try really, really hard not to laugh.

He spied an anthill near the tire of the truck, and bent

down, eyeing the tiny, black creatures. “Do you know
Kong?” he asked. The ants stopped their diligent work,
their antennas waving. No, they didn’t know.

JD thanked the ants and went on. He asked a sparrow

sitting on the roof of Uncle Jax’s truck and a caterpillar
inching along the wooden fence the same question.
Neither of them knew who Kong was, either.

It wasn’t until he got to the big, red barn and asked

the owl that lived in the rafters that JD found out Kong
had been there, but had left the night before. The owl
said Kong was big and hairy, and that it was glad Kong
had gone, because he smelled bad.

Well, that was easy. JD wondered why none of the

grownups had thought to ask the animals. Then again,
grownups were silly like that, always doing things the
hard way. He shrugged and set off in the direction the
owl said Kong had gone, slipping between the split rails
of the fence and beginning the long trek across the
pasture. He had to watch where he stepped, ‘cause the
cows didn’t use the big boy potty like he did. They
messed all over the field, wherever they felt like it. It
smelled pretty bad, too. He skirted the stinky piles
carefully.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 116

It wasn’t until he got to the tall electrical fence on the

far side of the pasture that he stopped. He knew he
wasn’t supposed to ever go beyond that fence. Uncle Jax
said so. Uncle Dakota said so. His mother and father
said so... everybody said so. Over and over again, for as
long as JD could remember.

But how could he help the grownups find Kong if he

didn’t? He decided it would be all right just this one
time. He’d go to the other side, find Kong, and come
back right away.

The fence was dangerous; Uncle Jax had warned him

about it many, many times. It had ‘lectricity going
through it, and ‘lectricity could hurt you if you weren’t
careful. JD spotted a bunny sniffing a clump of
vegetation and asked it how to get around the fence. The
bunny led him to a hole that ran under the fence and told
JD it had been dug by a gray wolf. The bunny hated the
wolf; it had chased the bunny just yesterday, and the
bunny had barely escaped into its hole in time. JD
thanked the bunny and slithered through the hole on his
belly, pretending he was a snake, until he reached the
other side.

The forest was kind of dark and scary, but he found

several animals that’d seen somebody who could’ve
been Kong. A squirrel told him it had seen a big, hairy
human who walked on his hands.

That must be funny to see! I wonder why he doesn’t

walk on his feet? JD went on, winding his way deeper
into the forest.

He walked for a very long time. By the time he came

to a large lake, he was getting tired and thirsty. A doe
drinking at the lake’s edge told him she had seen a big,
hairy creature go toward the little cabin on the other side
of the lake. JD decided it must be Kong, since the doe

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 117

would’ve known a bear when she saw one, and whatever
Kong was, it wasn’t a bear like Uncle Dakota.

JD hadn’t gone much further when he heard

something big walking in the forest. “Kong? Is that
you?” he called. “Please come back to the house. My
mommy and daddy and Uncle Jax and Uncle Dakota and
everybody are looking for you!”

His eyes got very round, and his mouth formed a big

“O” when a giant monkey came walking out of the trees
toward him. He doesn’t really walk on his hands, JD
realized, feeling a little disappointed; it’s more like he
walks on all fours, like when I pretend to be a horse like
Mommy and Uncle Mal. There was another man, too,
although the man wasn’t hairy at all and walked on his
feet, like everyone else. They both stopped and stared at
him.

“I’m JD, and you got losted, but now I found you,”

he said, smiling, feeling proud of himself.

The big monkey shifted into a human. JD had seen

his parents, grandparents, and uncles shift so often that
he didn’t even blink.

“He’s from the ranch,” the monkey-man said to the

other.

“You didn’t tell me you were at the ranch,” the other

man said. “Why are they looking for you?”

“I sort of left without saying goodbye,” the monkey-

man answered. He sniffed the air a few times. “I don’t
smell anybody else.” He looked back at JD. “I’m Kong.
Where are your parents?”

JD shrugged. “Everybody’s looking for you, but I

found you.” He yawned, and rubbed his eyes. He’d
missed his afternoon nap and was very, very tired. He
was happy when Kong picked him up.

“Okay, little man. Let’s get you home. My name is

Derek,” the other man said. He patted JD on the head,

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 118

and JD decided he liked Kong and Derek. They were
nice and hadn’t even yelled at him for leaving the ranch
to look for Kong.

He laid his head on Kong’s broad shoulder and fell

asleep almost before his eyes finished closing.

***
“Who does he belong to?” Derek asked in a whisper,

as they began walking toward the ranch.

“I don’t know. I saw him at the ranch, but I didn’t

hang around long enough to get introductions.” Kong
glanced at the sleeping child he held, and felt his heart
warm at the way the kid had so easily accepted him and
trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms. “The
people at the ranch were the ones who helped me break
out of the theme park.”

“Why did you leave the ranch?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m

intrigued. Let’s have it.”

Damn Derek for having a nose for a story... or for

just being plain nosy. “You’re not going to let it go, are
you?”

“Nope, so you might as well tell me.”
Kong sighed. “I lived alone for a long time. You

gotta understand that every person I’d ever known who
knew what I was betrayed me. My dad, my best friend...
When I was in the carnival, I learned that people would
leave me alone if they thought I was dangerous or crazy.
When the folks from the ranch showed up, I was afraid
to trust them, so I put on a big show to make them think
I was nuts. They bought it, too. They were afraid to let
me too close to their family,” he continued, nodding
toward JD, “and that sort of pissed me off, even though I
wanted them to stay away from me.” He looked at
Derek. “Maybe I really am crazy, huh?”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 119

“No, you’re not. It sounds to me like you’d been hurt

pretty badly before. I can understand why you’d have
trust issues. Go on.”

“There’s not much more to tell. I figured I’d done

okay living by myself in Washington, and I could do the
same in Wyoming. I left that same night, thinking I’d
head south, and then I found you.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him. “So, you’re pretty

adept at pretending to be crazy, huh?”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice,” Kong admitted. He

chuckled softly. “I guess I had you thinking I was a
pretty nutty, too, didn’t I?”

“Maybe just a little,” Derek replied with a wry grin.

“You’re good at it.”

“You should’ve seen Jax and Dakota -- the shifters

who brought me up here -- when I started singing The
Banana Boat Song on the plane. I think Jax would’ve
liked to see me take a nosedive from 30,000 feet without
a parachute.” He loved Derek’s laugh because there was
no malice in it. He was laughing with Kong, not at
Kong, and it was an awesome feeling. “Come on, let’s
hustle. The ranch isn’t too far from here.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 120

Chapter Thirteen

JD raced from one end of the porch to the other, his

arms spread like wings, pretending to be an eagle like
Uncle Aiden. He liked Uncle Aiden’s eagle. It was
pretty and flew way up high into the clouds.

He knew his Mommy and Uncle Mal were horses,

which he thought were cool, too, because they could run
fast. He even liked his Uncle Caedes’ dinosaur, although
it was a little scary-looking to his young eyes because it
had lots of really sharp teeth and big claws, and pebbly
skin.

He felt badly for his Daddy, though, because his

Daddy didn’t have an animal shape. His Uncle Dakota
was a bear, and Uncle Jax was a wolf, and Uncle Ghost
was a white tiger. His Grandpa Oscar was a rhino, and
Grandma Deidre was a panther, but his Daddy was stuck
being plain ol’ Daddy all the time, ‘cause Daddy was a
human, and everybody else wasn’t.

JD wasn’t a human, either. He knew that because his

Mommy and Daddy explained it all to him. Humans
couldn’t make toys come to life like JD could, or talk to
the animals. His Mommy said that even though JD was
like his Daddy and couldn’t change his shape, he still
wasn’t a human. He was special, everybody said so. And
someday, he might wake up one morning and be able to
turn into an animal. JD hoped so. He thought it would be
a lot of fun. Every morning when he woke up, the first
thing he did was squeeze his eyes shut tight and try
really hard to be an animal, but so far nothing had
happened.

Well, until then, he could always pretend.
“Caw! Caw!” he cried, flapping his arms rapidly.

Caught up in his imagination, he ignored Derek and

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 121

Kong, who sat quietly on the porch swing, watching
him.

They’d arrived back at the ranch just a short while

before, but no one else was around. Everyone was still
out in the far pastures and surrounding forests, looking
for Kong. Derek and Kong settled in to wait, but JD,
fresh and full of energy after his nap in Kong’s arms on
the way home, wasn’t content to just sit.

Like children everywhere, he lost himself in a world

of his own making.

Unlike children everywhere, his imaginary world had

a way of reaching out and touching the tangible one.

It began with one bird.
A single hawk, surfing the currents high above the

ranch, heard the joyful cries of the small boy and dipped
its wing, circling lower to investigate. It landed on the
split log fence that separated the yard from the pasture,
its golden eyes glittering in the sun as it watched the
large, oddly-shaped hawk run back and forth, flapping
its featherless wings.

A small murder of crows came next. Their sleek,

black heads swung back and forth like a row of perfectly
timed pendulums, their gazes never leaving the huge,
unusual crow dashing up and down in front of the fence.

A family of raccoons settled on the edge of the shed’s

roof, watching intently as their giant-sized kin
scampered across the yard.

One by one, other animals gathered, each convinced

through sight, smell, and sound that the creature
cavorting joyously across the yard was a larger,
inexplicably interesting version of themselves. Even
those who were solitary beasts by nature were drawn to
JD like iron filings to a magnet, without fear or
suspicion. Most were birds and smaller animals --
rabbits, skunks, squirrels, snakes, and the like, but the

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 122

cattle in the pasture felt the pull, as well, meandering
over to the fence to chew their cud and watch JD with
their soulful, liquid eyes. The horses came, too; even the
insects gathered. Within minutes, the entire front yard
looked like Noah’s dock just before the big rain.

JD never even noticed his unusual audience.
He was so absorbed in his play that he failed to take

note of the dozens of pairs of animal eyes watching him
intently.

Derek and Kong noticed, of course. They sat in silent

awe, aware of the extraordinary scene unfolding before
them, but loathe to interfere with whatever magic JD
was exhibiting.

Someone else noticed, though, and that someone had

no qualms at all about examining the situation more
closely.

***

The helicopter scudded across the sky like a

mechanical butterfly. It dipped and circled as the pilot
methodically covered the vast area between the house
and the Shifting Sands Ranch. The ranch was situated in
a large, flat valley surrounded by forested mountains.

Marcy was past bored and halfway to catatonic. She

sighed as she scanned the tops of the trees, not knowing
quite what she was looking for and unsure if she’d
recognize it even if she saw it.

They’d started out by flying from Cedar Creek to the

location of Woodster’s lake house first, rather than
looping back from the ranch. The trip had only taken a
few minutes, a quick flight over a nearly solid green
canopy of trees, interspersed with a few small lakes and
granite outcrops.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 123

The helicopter flew as low as it could, it’s runners

barely skimming the tops of the trees. She’d thought
she’d hit pay dirt when she spotted what appeared to be
a Smart Car parked near a deep ditch on the opposite
side of the lake. She assumed it to be Derek’s rental car,
but he was nowhere in sight. She hadn’t seen him
anywhere around Woodster’s house, either. Of course,
he could’ve been inside, but if he was, he’d left no
outward sign of his presence.

There hadn’t been any indication of human

habitation. There were no cars, no laundry hanging on
the line out back, no smoke rising from the chimney.
Most frustrating for her was the fact that there was
nowhere suitable to land the chopper so that she could
get out and investigate for herself.

After fifteen minutes of circling the house, she’d

given up and ordered the pilot to fly toward the ranch,
hoping to find something that was newsworthy in that
direction.

There’d been nothing. Nothing but trees, trees, more

trees and, oh yes... even more trees. Ugh! When I get
home, if I see so much as a fucking potted plant, I’m
going to rip it out and use it to beat my head in.

That is, she thought that until they flew over the

fence that marked the beginning of the Shifting Sands
Ranch’s pastureland. It looked like an electrical fence,
although why the ranch needed protection of that
magnitude was beyond her.

As the chopper flew over acres of cleared pasture,

she noticed something odd. The ranch owned hundreds
of head of cattle, separated into small herds by split rail
fences and barbed wire.

Every one of them was facing in the same direction,

as if watching something only they could see.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 124

It was an odd enough sight to awaken her curiosity,

and she ordered the pilot to follow the cattle’s line of
sight.

The path drew them to a wide, cleared area on which

several buildings had been built. She could see a
rambling ranch house, a large barn, several smaller
outbuildings and cabins. The heart of the ranch didn’t
faze her... but the small boy running back and forth
across the dirt and the hundreds of animals that sat
quietly watching him did.

As did the wolf, bear, and several humans who were

all running full out from the opposite direction toward
him.

What the hell kind of operation did these people have

going up here? A circus? What was with all the trained
animals? And why were they running as if their asses
were on fire?

With an imperative motion, she ordered the

cameraman to start filming. “I don’t know what the
fuck-all that is, but it can’t be normal,” she said,
pointing at the menagerie audience watching the young
boy and the others racing toward him. “Half of those
animals should be eating the other half! Why are they
sitting there like that? Why aren’t they attacking each
other? Is it possible they’re all trained? If they are,
where are their handlers? What is that kid doing, and
what does he have to do with the animals?”

The cameraman merely shook his head and began

filming, but she hadn’t expected him to answer. In fact,
she barely noticed him at all. She’d been talking more to
herself than to him or the pilot. Her reporter-Spidey
senses were going haywire.

There was a story here, she just knew it.
Now all she had to do was figure out the angle.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 125

When the answer came, she immediately grasped it

for what it was -- the story of the century.

And she’d caught it all on film.
Marcy was a jaded woman. She’d seen a lot in her

thirty-five years, everything from natural and manmade
disasters to murder scenes, and would’ve thought
nothing could shock her.

She’d been wrong.
Watching the action below her, her mouth gaped

open and she seemed unable to form coherent sentences.
All she could do was point and stare. It was
unbelievable, and frightening, like some kind of freaky
horror movie come to life right before her very eyes.

Derek was right, she privately conceded. This story

was Pulitzer material, and a small voice kept whispering
in her head, “Mine, all mine.”

As she’d watched the group run toward the boy, the

wolf and the bear transformed into naked men in mid-
stride. It happened so quickly, she thought for a moment
she’d imagined it. Shapeshifters! Two of them! Derek
had been right, but she instantly realized the
implications of what she’d seen -- the werewolf
Woodster had caught on the film was only the tip of the
iceberg. How many of these other people were shifters,
too? What did they shift into? How was it even possible?
Questions tumbled through her mind at warp speed.

“Are you getting this?” she asked the cameraman, but

he looked as shocked as she felt. She saw the red light
blinking on the camera, knew the tape was rolling, and
turned her attention back to the scene below.

She knew without having to see the actual footage

that her film would someday become a part of American
history, much like the clips of the Hindenburg, JFK’s
assassination, and Neil Armstrong’s walk on the moon,

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 126

shown in classrooms around the country as part of the
curriculum.

The other people (several of them were naked, too,

and a small part of Marcy’s mind whispered that they’d
have to either edit the footage or put up a disclaimer for
prime time) didn’t even pause in their steps. They
rushed the little boy. A nude woman scooped him up
and, while the others circled around them, rushed into
the house. The two men who, mere moments ago had
been wearing wolf and bear skins, shot angry glances
over their shoulders at the chopper.

She ordered the pilot to fly lower, and she spotted

Derek, of all people, on the porch with another naked
man. What was it with these people? Were they running
a nudist colony for shapeshifters? Maybe. Was that any
more far-fetched than the fact that they could change
their shapes at all? She wouldn’t have believed any of it
if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

After this story aired, Marcy knew she’d be able to

write her own ticket in L.A., New York... hell,
anywhere! Whatever she wanted would be hers --
anchor on the prime time news, her own talk show, a
book deal, a movie, all of them or any combination she
chose. The money would start rolling in as soon as the
show went live! She’d be set for life after this.

She’d do the report on air herself. No way was some

Ken doll anchor getting the credit for her story. Then,
after the offers starting pouring in, she’d happily tell
Vicks to kiss her Vera Wang-clad ass.

“Can you land this thing?” she asked the pilot. “I

have to get in there. That’s not negotiable. I need to get
interviews with those freaks.”

The pilot nodded, and within a few minutes had

landed the helicopter in a wide, empty space on the
pasture. Marcy was out of the door almost before the

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 127

chopper touched down, bent nearly in half to avoid the
blades and dragging the cameraman with her. She ran
across the field, unmindful that her already-sadly-abused
Manolo Blahniks were being covered with cow shit.

She did notice that the animals who’d been watching

the little boy with such fascination had dispersed as soon
as the chopper landed. Even the cows and horses had
moved quickly to the far side of the pasture.

It didn’t matter. She no longer cared about the

animals -- the real ones, at any rate. It was the pseudo-
animals inside the house that she needed to learn more
about.

Trotting up the stairs to the porch of the ranch house,

she took only a minute to ready her microphone and pat
her hair into place before pounding on the door. She
could hear voices raised in agitation inside, but no one
answered her knock. “I know you’re in there!” she
called loudly. “I have you all on film. You might as well
come out and make a statement!”

After a few minutes of her alternating knocking and

yelling, a deep voice sounded from the other side of the
door, although it didn’t open. “You’re trespassing on
private property. Leave now, or we’ll be forced to call
the police!”

“This is news, sir! The people have a right to know

creatures like you exist! This story is going to air on The
Headline, whether you want it to or not. It’ll be picked
up by the syndicates. Before tomorrow night, the entire
world will know about you, will have seen you change...
or shift... or whatever you call what it is you people do.
You might as well tell your side of it!”

“We don’t have a side to tell. We just want to be left

alone. I don’t know what you thought you saw, but
we’re just law-abiding, hard-working, decent people
who run a cattle ranch.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 128

“You’re shapeshifters! I saw two of you change from

a wolf and a bear into men, and I caught it all on film!”

“You’re mistaken! This is your last warning. If you

don’t leave now, I’m calling the sheriff!”

Marcy grew angry. How dare he deny her? She

pounded on the door again. “When this story breaks,
reporters are going to descend on this ranch like locusts!
You can’t hide anymore -- your secret is out. You might
as well talk to me now. ”

“Go away!” The voice deepened even more and

gradually became a roar that rattled the windows on the
house and made Marcy’s ears ring. She squeaked and
backed up a few steps, but forced herself to hold her
ground.

Then she realized the cameraman was running for the

chopper.

Coward. He is so fired! She was torn for a moment,

then realized her crew might be spooked enough to leave
without her. She certainly couldn’t have that. Not only
did she want to be stranded on a ranch full of monsters,
but she needed to get the film back to the station, along
with her report. With a final glance at the closed door,
she made her way back across the pasture to the
helicopter.

Even without the interview, it was going to be

sensational. And if she had to use a little creative license
to fill in the details, well... they’d had their chance to do
an interview with her and set the story straight, and
they’d blown it. They deserved whatever they got.

As the chopper lifted, she pulled out a notebook

computer and began writing the story of the century.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 129

Chapter Fourteen

Inside the ranch house, pandemonium reigned.

Everyone was yelling at everyone else and demanding
they calm down, but no one was listening to anyone.

Jax was bristling, screaming at Derek, who was

flattened up against the wall, stammering, trying to
explain himself but not succeeding. Mal and Caedes had
insinuated themselves between Jax and Derek, intent on
keeping Jax from ripping Derek’s throat out. Kong had
shifted into his gorilla form and faced off against
Ghost's tiger form.

Dakota wedged himself between them and alternately

tried to calm Ghost and Kong down. Tai, Logan, Deidre,
and Oscar were huddled in a corner, forming a
protective circle around JD, who was howling because
Uncle Jax was snarling at his new friends, Kong and
Derek.

The rangy smell of animal and fear filled the room,

adding fuel to everyone’s panic.

“Who are you?” Jax spat at Derek. “Do you have any

idea what you’ve done? I should skin you alive, right
here, right now for bringing reporters to our home!”

Derek shook his head vehemently. “I didn’t bring

them. I swear it! I don’t know how Marcy found me, or
why she came here! My notes only mentioned Dr.
Woodster’s place. I didn’t even know about the Shifting
Sands Ranch!”

“So, you admit you know that bitch?” Jax asked. His

voice deepened into a reverberating growl, and his fangs
dropped. He looked seconds away from shifting, and
would no doubt go for Derek’s throat the minute he did.

Kong’s gorilla roared, showing his massive canines

and beating his fists against the floor and the walls,
punching holes into the plaster. Framed photographs fell

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 130

off the wall, glass shattering. It was obvious that he
intended to attack Jax before Jax could lay a paw on
Derek.

Ghost’s tiger roared and crouched at Jax’s side,

muscles quivering. Mal, Caedes, and Dakota formed a
wall between them and Kong, trying in vain to get Jax,
Ghost, and Kong to all calm down.

Their animal natures were straining at the bit, and at

any moment, blood would be spilled.

It was Aiden who finally brought them all to a

standstill. His deafening roar rolled through the house
like a sonic boom and thrummed deep in the bones of
everyone in the room. For a long moment, everyone
stood motionless, shocked into silence.

That particular voice hadn’t been heard at the ranch

since the day Cain attacked it with his Ultimate
Predators. It was the sound of Aiden’s Other, and the
fact that The Other had risen to be heard came like a
splash of icy water on the hot tempers in the room. Even
Derek and Kong, who had no idea of what The Other
was, were stunned into stillness. The power in The
Other’s voice was unmistakable.

Ghost immediately flashed into his human form and

ran to Aiden as the rest of the shifters stared at Aiden in
mute awe.

The Other was not natural; it was a creature

imbedded in Aiden’s genetic code by a group of
scientists while he was still in utero. The Other was as
enormous as it was terrifying, resembling a cross
between a dragon and a pterodactyl. Like the shifters’
former enemy Cain’s Tyrannosaurus, it was as deadly as
it was exotic. Aiden worked hard to keep it tamed all
these years, and he had often said he feared what The
Other might do if it got free of his control. If Aiden

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 131

shifted into The Other while inside the house, he would
bring it crashing down on all of their heads.

Aiden’s face was pale and strained; he was obviously

fighting to keep The Other contained. His eyes changed
color from their normal gold to bile green, his pupils
elongating. Muscles moved and twitched under his skin,
and his nails began to grow into claws.

Ghost wrapped his arms around Aiden. If anyone

could calm Aiden, it was his mate, Ghost. The others
edged back, trying to give Aiden and Ghost some space.
“Come on, baby. It’s okay. We’re all good now. Send it
back to sleep. You can do it,” Ghost said, in a soft voice.

“We’re turning on one another,” Aiden said. His

voice was rough and grating, and he was panting. The
strain of keeping The Other contained was taking an
obvious toll on him. “We can’t do this. We have to stick
together, all of us. The enemy is out there, not in here.”

“No,” Jax said. Dakota grabbed for him and caught

him before he could take a step. He settled for nodding
at Kong and Derek. “They’re the enemies! Didn’t you
hear what that woman reporter said? She caught us
shifting on film! I told you not to bring that big, hairy
ape home, Dakota. If it wasn’t for him, this human
would never have found us!”

To everyone’s surprise, Derek stepped in front of

Kong. “Leave him out of this. This is all my fault. If you
have to blame somebody, then blame me. I’m the one
who came out here looking for shifters. If it wasn’t for
me, Marcy wouldn’t have followed me to Wyoming.”

“How did you find out about us?” Dakota asked. He

let Jax go, but kept a firm hand on Jax’s shoulder, partly
to calm Jax and partly to keep Jax from charging Derek
and Kong.

“I was sent a video from Doc Woodster’s estate. It

showed a shapeshifter in the yard of Woodster’s lake

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 132

house” Derek explained. “I met Kong while I was at
Woodster’s place. I had car trouble and was stuck up
there. Kong thought you all might help me. We found
JD on the way to the ranch and brought him back here.”

“JD left the ranch?” Dakota asked. “Did anybody

know about this? How did he get past the fences?”
Every adult eye in the room zeroed in on JD, who began
to cry again.

Jax shrugged off Dakota’s hand and spun to glare at

Mal and Tai, focusing his fury in another direction. “It
doesn’t matter. He’s safe. What matters is that
somebody went past the fences and got caught on film!
How many times? How many times did I tell you not to
go outside the fences? All the years you were growing
up, I preached to you. I begged you! Now, see what
happened? Ol’ Doc Woodster caught one of you in your
horse forms on tape!” He turned his glare to Caedes. “Or
maybe it was you! You damned dinosaur... you managed
to do what your father, Cain, couldn’t! You’ve
destroyed us.”

“A dinosaur? He can turn into a freaking dinosaur?”

Derek asked Kong, staring at Caedes.

“Nice going, Uncle Jax,” Mal said sarcastically.

“Why don’t you just hand the human a list of what
everyone changes into while you’re at it?”

As if on cue, everyone started talking at once again,

defending themselves or one another.

“Wait a minute!” Derek yelled. His voice cut through

the noise, bringing every pair of eyes to him again. “The
shifter Woodster caught on tape wasn’t a horse or a
dinosaur.” He looked directly into Jax’s eyes, pinning
Jax with a gimlet glare. “It was a wolf.”

Jax’s face first grew red, then quickly paled. “A... a

wolf? No, that’s not possible. You’re lying!”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 133

“I have no reason to lie. The shapeshifter Woodster

caught on film was a wolf,” Derek repeated with
conviction.

“We’ve had many other wolf-shifters on this ranch

over the years. It wasn’t Jax,” Dakota said stoutly. He
stood tall next to Jax, with an arm slung around Jax’s
shoulders.

“A wolf...” Jax’s voice was low, as if he was talking

to himself. “It couldn’t have been me. I was always so
careful.”

“You went beyond the perimeter fences, Uncle Jax?”

Mal asked. His face reflected the shock felt by everyone
else. “After all the lectures you gave us, you went there
yourself and shifted?”

“I was concerned about your safety, not mine,” Jax

snapped. He looked completely miserable. “I always
patrolled the fences. It was easier to do it in wolf form --
we have a lot of acreage to cover. Once in a while, I
went deeper into the forest, closer to the lake, especially
after Tai was kidnapped a few years ago. I wanted to
make sure nobody was spying on us or laying a trap for
us. I was trying to keep us safe! I never thought--”

“No, I guess you didn’t think at all,” Caedes said.

“But the first thing you did do was toss the blame at my
mate and his sister, and then at me for being Cain’s son.
But if anyone is responsible for putting this Pack in
danger, it’s you!”

Dakota shook his head. “You’re wrong, Caedes. Jax

has always put the safety and wellbeing of this Pack first
and foremost! He’s kept us safe all these years, but
we’ve grown too big. This was bound to happen sooner
or later. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I’m the one who
always pressured him to accept new members.”

“No! You were right to do that, Dakota,” Jax insisted.

“Even though I always argued with you, I knew deep

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 134

down that it was the right thing to do. Bringing our
people together, giving them somewhere to live where
they could be themselves... that’s what the Shifting
Sands was always all about. I screwed up big time.” He
looked at everyone in turn, but it seemed difficult for
him to meet anyone’s eyes. “I... I’m sorry.” If ever a
wolf had its tail between its legs, it was Jax. He had the
look of a beaten dog about him

Aiden had fallen silent, but it seemed his struggle to

contain The Other was successful. His eyes were back to
their natural golden color, and his breathing had evened
out. “This isn’t about casting blame. We need to decide
what we do now that our secret is out.”

“Maybe we should go, all of us,” Oscar said. Oscar

glanced at JD, who had quieted, resting his head on his
mother’s shoulder. “It’s not safe here anymore. That
reporter said others would be coming.”

“And try to start all over again somewhere else?”

Deidre, his wife, shook her head. “Go back to hiding in
cornfields or wandering in the desert? That isn’t the sort
of life I want for our children or our grandchild, Oscar.”

“Leaving wouldn’t solve the problem anyway, Dad,”

Mal said. “It isn’t that they know about the Shifting
Sands -- it’s that they know about us. Even if we move,
they won’t stop. We’ll be looking over our shoulders for
the rest of our lives, always afraid, always hiding who
we are.”

Oscar frowned at his wife and son. “What are you

suggesting we do? Stay here and arm ourselves? Turn
the Shifting Sands into another Ruby Ridge?”

“No, this isn’t a war, Oscar. No guns,” Dakota said

firmly.

“Do you think they’ll just air that story and then let

us go on with our lives, Dakota?” Oscar asked. “They’ll
never leave us in peace, not once people find out what

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 135

we can do. Most humans will fear us, and the rest will
want to control us. I won’t see my children or grandchild
caged and turned into some kind of science
experiment!”

“So what do you think we should do? Blow the heads

off everyone that wanders up our road?” Dakota
shouted. His temper, along with everyone else’s, was
strained to the breaking point as fear bit into them with
razor-sharp teeth.

“I didn’t say that!” Oscar retorted, just as heatedly.

“But I won’t sit by doing nothing while they lock my
family up in a cage!”

“What if you all came out?” Derek asked. His

statement, although softly spoken, cut through the
arguments like a hot knife through soft wax, and was
met -- yet again -- by stunned silence. He spread his
hands. “Hear me out. I may not know a lot about
shapeshifters, but the one thing I do know is how to spin
a story. Marcy is going to broadcast her video and do
her report, whether you want her to or not. That much is
a done deal, and the people who see it will believe
whatever she tells them. If all the information the public
is given comes from Marcy’s report -- and I know for a
fact that she’ll make you out to be a pack of snarling,
baby-eating monsters just for the ratings it’ll bring her --
then they’ll take it as the gospel truth. But if you come
out, if you tell your stories, show that you’re just normal
folks who happen to have the really cool,
nonthreatening ability to change shapes, and that you’ve
been productive members of society all along, then
you’ll garner support. Sure, there’ll be people who’ll
want to believe you’re monsters just because you’re
different, but there’ll be others who will take your side.”

“That’s crazy!” Oscar spat. “Coming out... telling

everyone who we are? That’s nuts!”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 136

“They’re going to find out anyway,” Derek

countered. “Marcy’s on her way back to LA and the
studio now. That tape will be broadcast worldwide by
tomorrow night. It’ll be in all the headlines of every
newspaper printed on the planet and splashed across the
Internet. By the day after tomorrow, this place will be
swarming with everybody who owns a camera. There’s
no way to avoid it.”

“The kid has a point.” It was the first time Jax had

spoken since finding out he might have been the one
caught on Woodster’s video. “If we’re in the public eye,
it would at least keep us safe from any faction of the
government or other organization who might want to
study us or use us. It’ll keep people with guns from
crashing the gate and keep us out of a cage or a grave
until we figure out what to do.”

Kong shifted into his human form. “I’m not going

back into a cage. Been there, done that, got the big foam
finger, and trust me, it sucks.” His two cents thrown in,
he shifted again, grunting softly as Derek patted his arm.

“Nobody’s going to get caged,” Dakota said firmly.

He thrust a hand through his hair and looked at Derek.
“If we were going to ‘come out,’ as you put it, who
should we come out to? And how?”

“I would wait until the first report airs. Everyone

who’s anyone will be snapping at the bit to get an
interview with you guys by then. We can have the pick
of the litter -- CNN, Barbara Walters, Oprah... you name
it.”

Dakota glanced at Jax. “We always did like Oprah,”

he said.

“Yeah, but I never pictured myself sitting on her

couch having a conversation live and in person,” Jax
demurred. He looked at each person in turn and realized
they were waiting for his decision. “I can’t make this

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 137

choice for us. It’s too important, too personal. For what
it’s worth, my vote is for doing as Derek has suggested.
Our secret is going to be out, whether we like it or not.
After that film airs, it’ll all be about damage control.
What do you think?”

“I vote yes,” Dakota said.
Aiden and Ghost exchanged a glance, then nodded in

unison. “Us, too.”

“If you think it’s the wise choice, then we’re with

you, Jax,” Oscar said. His arm was around Deidre, and
she nodded. “You might have made a mistake shifting
out by the lake, but you’ve never led us astray before,
and you’ve saved our hides more than once.”

“I’m worried about JD. I don’t want him in the

spotlight,” Logan said.

“We won’t allow him to be filmed or interviewed,”

Jax agreed. “If they don’t agree, the interview with the
rest of us is off.”

“He’s underage. The law will protect his privacy,”

Derek added.

“Okay, then,” Tai said, after a short, whispered

conversation with Logan. “As long as JD is kept out of
it, we’ll agree.”

Mal and Caedes agreed, as well, although it was

quickly decided to keep both Caedes’ velociraptor and
Aiden’s Other a secret. Herbivores were naturally non-
threatening, and tigers, bears, and wolves could look
cute and cuddly given the right circumstances, but there
was no way on earth to make the dinosaurs seem
anything but monstrous.

“Kong?” Dakota asked, looking up at him. “What

about you? It looks as if you’ve thrown your lot in with
the rest of us, which means you get a vote, too.”

Shifting for just long enough to answer, Kong said,

“No cage. If anybody comes at me with a trank gun, all

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 138

bets are off.” It was obvious to everyone that he felt
more secure in his gorilla form, so no one commented
on it.

“If anybody tries to tranquilize any of us, there’s

going to be trouble,” Jax put in. For the first time, he felt
an affinity with the gorilla-shifter. He wasn’t going to let
anybody in his Pack end up in a cage, not even the
newest arrival. “I don’t want to go to war with the
humans, but I will if they threaten any of us.”

They held a meeting in the barn with the rest of the

shifters on the ranch. As could be expected, the
farmhands were in an uproar.

“Everyone is free to go, if you wish. Dakota and I can

have your pay ready in an hour, and you can get as far
from here as you can before morning, then go to ground
until the worst of it is over,” Jax said. “Anyone who
wants to stay, well... I’m not sure what’s going to
happen, but we’ll weather it together.”

Almost everyone stayed. The few who left did so

quickly. Dakota noticed that they were all new arrivals
to the ranch. The folks who’d lived there a while had all
chosen to stay.

“This is my home, my family,” Jolly said. He was a

gator-shifter and had been the ranch foreman for years.
As crotchety as any gator in the swamps, Jolly was
nonetheless one of the most trusted and respected
shifters on the ranch, next to Dakota and Jax. His word
carried a lot of weight with the others and seemed to
reflect the feelings of most of the residents. “Ain’t
nobody gonna run me off.”

The others nodded in agreement, although all of them

looked nervous. Dakota didn’t blame them one bit. He
felt the same. They all did.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 139

“It’s decided, then,” Dakota said. “Tomorrow, for

better or worse, the world meets the shifters of the
Shifting Sands Ranch.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 140

Chapter Fifteen

Marcy had done exactly what Derek had predicted

she’d do. The Headline show painted the shapeshifters
as horrible monsters, complete with Photo-shopped
pictures of the ranch. She’d had her graphic artists insert
a howling Wolfman into the front yard. It was done
really well. Even the shifters had to rewind the clip and
pause it, looking twice.

Jax had taken exception to that.
“What the fuck was she thinking?” he cried, when the

television showed a close-up of the ugly, hairy creature
with a severe under-bite, dressed in rags, and the words
“Werewolf at Shifting Sands Ranch” scrolling
underneath it. “I don’t look like that!”

“She’s trying to get ratings by scaring people,”

Dakota said. He didn’t look any happier than Jax did at
Marcy’s underhanded tactics. “She’s making stuff up
because we wouldn’t talk to her. Did you hear what she
said about us? She all but accused us of cooking people
in the BBQ pit out back.”

“I told you she would,” Derek said quietly. “That’s

why you have to do the interview. You need to set
people straight on this before you have crowds coming
at you from all directions with torches and pitchforks.”

In the end, they decided to go with CNB, one of the

largest news broadcasting networks in the world. Derek
had made the arrangements with a single telephone call
once Marcy’s show went live. He said afterward that he
could practically hear Jeffrey Wainwright, the anchor of
Meet the People, one of CNB’s highest rated and most
respected shows, salivating when offered the interview.

It was none too soon. Hell broke loose at the Shifting

Sands Ranch bright and early the next morning with the
arrival at the front gate of several dozen tabloid,

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 141

television, and newspaper reporters and their crews,
along with groups of protesters, all clamoring to be let
inside the ranch.

Word had indeed travelled fast. In the space of one

night, the news of the shifters went from a single cable
television news show directly to the headlines of almost
every paper on the planet. Morning televisions shows
reported about them and rebroadcast Marcy’s film clip,
along with Woodster’s; talk shows brought on “experts”
who claimed the shifters were everything from the
devil’s spawn to mutants from outer space. Twitter and
Facebook were buzzing with the news. #shifter became
the highest retweeted hashtag in Twitter history.

Jax supposed a great many people didn’t believe the

story, but if they were out there, they were keeping their
opinion to themselves.

It seemed that everyone from conservative Christian

groups, to Human Rights activists, to PETA had shown
up in the mountains of Wyoming, and they all had
something to say about the shifters, and not much of it
good.

Almost all of the protesters held signs declaring their

beliefs. “Shifters Are a Threat to Humanity!” “Satan
Sent Them -- Send Them Back!” “Save the Shifters!”
“Animals are People, Too!” “Monkey See, Monkey
Do!”

That last one sent Kong stomping into a corner in a

huff. For once, Jax understood how Kong felt -- one of
the signs said “The Only Good Wolf Is a Pelt!” He was
never as glad for the electric fences as he was that day.
At least he didn’t need to worry about people storming
the ranch with tranquilizer guns or bazookas.

Not yet, anyway.
Some of the church groups declared that the shifters

were the work of the devil, an abomination against God,

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 142

and should be destroyed immediately. Some wanted to
do an exorcism, believing that the shifters were
possessed. Others said the shifters were Children of
God, just like everyone else, and ought to be left alone.
Sadly, those last ones were in the minority.

The folks from Greenpeace and PETA felt that the

shifters were animals first and should be placed on the
Endangered Species List.

The people from Amnesty International were certain

that the shifters were human and as such should be given
political asylum.

Funny, but nobody seems to remember that we’ve

been taxpaying Americans all of our lives. If they
rescind our citizenship, like that one politician on CNN
was yammering about, will we get a big fat rebate check
from the IRS? I doubt it, he thought bitterly. Our bodies
may be too different for them to accept, but our money is
another story. That’s just as green as the next guy’s, and
they’ll take it just fine.

The telephone hadn’t stopped ringing, either.

Someone had gotten the number for the main house (Jax
suspected Susie Ann down at the Cedar Creek City Hall
since she'd never been overly friendly with any of them)
and posted it to The Headline’s Facebook page. The
phone had started ringing off the hook at a quarter past
two in the morning and hadn’t stopped since. The
answering machine filled up within an hour.

They stopped listening to the messages after the first

few dozen, because they were all, to a one, absolutely
ridiculous.

A representative from Hair R Us, a national chain of

hair replacement facilities, wanted to know if there were
any long-haired shifters, like angora cats or alpacas, for
instance, who might be interested in becoming spoke-
shifters for their company.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 143

Doggie Chow wanted a canine shifter to endorse its

brand of dog food.

Worm Hole Magazine, a science fiction monthly rag,

wanted to do a story on them. Their reporter asked
whether the mothership would be coming now that the
shifters’ cover had been blown.

A lawyer for the parent company of the same theme

park that had been home to Kong before his escape,
called, claiming that the shifters were in direct violation
of copyright law since the Company owned the rights to
“Beauty and the Beast,” and the “Little Mermaid.” If
the shifters didn’t desist from shifting immediately, the
company would sue, asking for “unspecified damages.”

All of these were interspersed with calls from people

who claimed they were shapeshifters, too, or who
suspected their neighbor was a shifter, or the deacon of
their church, or the principal of the elementary school,
or their hairdresser, or their crazy Uncle Herbert.

Even worse were the death threats from people

threatening to shoot, bomb, burn, and otherwise destroy
every last person on the ranch.

Dakota finally unplugged the phone, just so they

could hear themselves think.

The crew for CBN had flown in on a helicopter --

much as Marcy had done, except the CBN crew had the
shifters’ permission -- and landed in almost the exact
same spot on the pasture as she had. Jeffrey Wainwright
alighted from the chopper in an ankle-length leather coat
and shiny, Florsheim loafers, stepping carefully over
cow pies as he led his assistant, cameraman, soundman,
makeup girl, and hairdresser toward the ranch house. He
was a tall, dark, classically handsome man with just the
respectable amount of gray at his temples. He had the air
of someone who’d seen and done everything there was
to do in the world, twice, and then once more just for

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 144

fun. His manner was as silken as his tie, but Jax disliked
him on sight.

Perhaps it was because of the way Wainwright kept

smiling at Dakota. All those perfectly white, even teeth
flashed at Dakota far more often than necessary, in Jax’s
opinion, and he didn’t like the appreciation in
Wainwright’s eyes every time they roamed over
Dakota’s body.

Dakota was dressed in a dark blue button down shirt

and a pair of black slacks. He looked damned sexy in
them, and Jax suddenly wished Dakota had dressed in a
burlap sack -- a baggy, shapeless one that covered
Dakota from chin to ankles.

Wainwright’s gaze drifted to just south of Dakota’s

belt buckle. Of all the nerve! Jax growled softly,
showing his teeth, and placed his hand on Dakota’s
shoulder. Mine, he thought. Back off, Clark Kent.

Dakota noticed and gave Jax a sharp look that said,

“Behave, or else!”

As if that had ever stopped Jax before. He was the

alpha wolf, Dakota was his mate, and this Wainwright
guy was going to be lunch if Wainwright didn’t stop
leering at Dakota’s crotch.

Dakota pinched Jax’s rear end, making him jump.

“Be nice,” he whispered hoarsely.

Wainwright didn’t seem to notice. Stupid human, Jax

thought, resisting the urge to rub his butt. Well, fine, let
him talk, but if he touches Dakota, I’m going to neuter
him.

The makeup girl came at Jax with a big, fluffy brush

and a small tray of colors, but one look from Jax sent
her scurrying off to the other side of the room with a
squeak. He noticed with some satisfaction that she was
hiding behind Caedes. Shift, he thought, biting back a

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 145

grin. I’d love to see her mess her bloomers if she
realizes she’s standing behind a velociraptor.

He almost wished they all hadn’t agreed that Caedes

was not to shift under any circumstances. It was for the
best, though. If these people were freaked because of the
wolf-shifters, bear-shifters, and horse-shifters, Jax could
just imagine the hysteria that would ensue if somebody
spotted a dinosaur.

They knew they’d be asked to shift during the

interview, and while nobody was keen on doing it, they
agreed it was probably the only way to really take the
starch out of Marcy’s film clip. One of them would need
to shift on camera, so that people would see they weren’t
the bloodthirsty monsters Marcy made them out to be.

No one wanted to volunteer, though. They were

ranchers, not circus performers. Well, most of them,
anyway. Some people had earned a living in sideshows
before coming to the ranch, and Kong had a few horrible
memories of being sold to a traveling carnival when he
was young.

Kong. The thought of the gorilla-shifter nearly raised

Jax’s hackles again. Jax was still convinced he was
unstable, even though he claimed to have faked the
whole “crazy” routine on the plane. Nobody could sing
that many verses of the “Banana Boat Song,” and not
be a little nuts, he thought. He didn’t trust Kong, and
had given Derek orders to keep Kong hidden while the
reporter was there.

JD was squirreled away out of sight, too. He was in

his bedroom, being guarded by his parents, Tai and
Logan. They didn’t want his face broadcast on
television. It was bad enough Marcy had gotten a shot of
him playing in the front yard. They didn’t have to worry
about him shifting shape on camera, but his other...
talents... would cause far more of an uproar if he chose

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 146

to exhibit them. Jax could only imagine what the
government would think of a little boy who could make
inanimate objects move in a lifelike manner or hold a
conversation with any living creature.

A red light began to blink on the camera, interrupting

Jax’s train of thought. He looked over at Wainwright,
who was still smiling at Dakota.

Damn him.
“Welcome, Mr. Wells and Mr. Greene, to Meet the

People. Although I can’t imagine anyone who owns a
television or reads a newspaper not knowing about the
amazing revelations about the residents of the Shifting
Sands Ranch, I’d like to take a minute to recap what we
know.

“Yesterday, a cable television show called The

Headline showed a most astounding film clip of a wolf
and a bear magically transforming into humans. The
reporter who shot the film claimed that these
shapeshifters attacked her, and that she barely escaped
with her life. I’m sitting in the living room of the
Shifting Sands Ranch with Dakota Wells and Jax
Greene, two of the men Marcy Jarvis claims shifted into
animal form.

“Mr. Wells, what do you have to say to this

accusation?”

“Most of it is hogwash,” Dakota replied. “That Jarvis

woman flew onto our land in a helicopter, filmed us
without our knowledge, and then tried to break our front
door down when we refused to give her an interview.
That’s all that happened.”

“Right,” Jax said. “We’ve lived here for over twenty

years, built this ranch up from nothing, paid our taxes,
and never once got into any trouble.” Not exactly true, if
one considered the attack by Cain and the Ultimate
Predators trouble, or Joe Wheaton’s kidnapping of Tai.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 147

But a small white lie for the sake of peace wasn’t really
bad, was it? Talking about those incidents would only
complicate matters. “We’re good people, who just want
to be free to live our lives in peace.”

“Are you saying Jarvis fabricated the entire film?”
“No. I’m sure experts will examine the footage and

agree it’s genuine. There’s no point in lying about it. We
are shapeshifters,” Dakota said. “My other form is a
bear, and Jax is a wolf.”

“So, you two are the ones Marcy Jarvis caught on

camera, aren’t you?” Wainwright asked. “Are you the
only shifters here, or are there more?”

Dakota and Jax exchanged a glance. They’d talked at

length about this with the others. Their first inclination
was to lie, since Jax and Dakota were the only ones seen
shifting, but they quickly discarded the idea. The ranch
would be under a microscope from here on out. If
somebody else was caught shifting, they’d be found out
as liars. Nothing they said would hold weight anymore.
Everyone would wonder why they were trying to cover
up how many of them there really were. It would only
make things worse.

“Almost everyone who lives and works at this ranch

is a shifter,” Dakota said quietly.

Wainwright sat back in stunned silence. It was

obvious that, while he’d probably been hoping the
number was more than two, he hadn’t been prepared for
Dakota’s answer. “Our research would put that number
at almost fifty!” he gasped.

“Fifty-two, to be exact,” Jax said, feeling a little

smug.

“Where did you all come from?” Wainwright asked.

There was awe in his voice, along with a sliver of fear.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 148

Jax smirked. “Well, you see Jeffy, when a mommy

and a daddy love each other, they get together and they--
"

“Jax! That’s not funny,” Dakota cut in, clamping his

big hand over Jax’s mouth. “What Jax means to say is
that we’re human, Mr. Wainwright. We’re born the
same way everyone else is, most of us to non-shifter
parents. We don’t really know why we can do what we
do, but our shifting ability doesn’t usually show up until
we hit puberty. Until then, we’re just normal kids.”

Jax tugged Dakota’s hand away from his mouth.

“Just because we can shift our shapes doesn’t mean
there’s something wrong with us. We work hard, have
families, pay taxes, and live our lives like everyone
else.”

“I hardly think that someone who can morph into a

wolf or a bear at will is like everyone else!” Wainwright
said. His laugh was brittle and forced. He was afraid;
Jax could see it in his eyes and smell it in his scent.

“Look, Mr. Wainwright, not once in the history of the

Shifting Sands Ranch has anyone done anything wrong.
We don’t break the law. We’re good neighbors, good
people,” Dakota said. “There’s no reason for anyone to
be afraid of us. We just want to be left alone to live our
lives. I don’t know why Ms. Jarvis saw the need to
fabricate the video by sticking that fake wolfman in it, or
telling all those lies about us.”

“Yeah,” Jax growled. He didn’t like the line of

questioning, not one bit. “Look at what happened when
people found out about us. We’ve got folks up at the
gate backed up for miles, waving signs and calling us
animals, devils, and worse. We haven’t done anything to
deserve this!”

“No one is claiming you have, Mr. Wells. I’m afraid

we’re all a little taken aback. After all, we just found out

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 149

yesterday that shapeshifters exist outside of fiction, and
now we hear there’s an entire community of them living
here! May I ask how you managed to stay hidden all
these years?”

“We weren’t hiding, Mr. Wainwright. We just didn’t

parade our... differences around town, is all,” Dakota
said. “We knew it would make some people
uncomfortable, so we kept it under our hats.”

Wainwright seemed to sense the tension that rolled

off Jax in waves, and tried to change the subject and
take back control of the interview. “Would you mind
telling us your story, Mr. Wells? Or you, Mr. Greene? I
think people would be most interested in how you grew
up and how you dealt with your abilities when you first
discovered them. Were your parents shapeshifters, too?”
Wainwright asked.

They’d expected this question and had prepared for

it. Dakota and Jax told their story simply, each
beginning with their first change and ending with the
founding of the ranch.

“We’d had hard lives, Mr. Wainwright, and didn’t

want any other shifters to have to go through it if we
could help it. That’s why we opened the doors of our
ranch to other shifters, and our experiment has been very
successful. Some people come and go, but others have
stayed. We’re like one big, extended family here.”

The interview went smoothly after that. Wainwright

asked a few more questions, mostly about how it
actually felt to shift, whether they were cognizant while
in animal form, and how predator and prey managed to
live together peacefully.

Then came the moment everyone had anticipated, the

question they’d debated over and over again.
Wainwright asked if one of them would shift on camera.
Jax had reluctantly insisted it be him, since there was no

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 150

way he was letting the world get an eyeful of Dakota’s
fine skin. He refused to back down, and in the end,
Dakota agreed, although it was clear he wasn’t keen on
the idea of Jax’s body being on display, either.

Jax cleared his throat. “I’d be happy to, if you don’t

mind nudity,” Jax said. Jax almost laughed at the way
Wainwright’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up.
“We can’t shift inside our clothing -- we can injure
ourselves that way. We need to strip before we can
shift.”

Wainwright looked at the cameraman, who shrugged.

“I guess it’s okay. We’re not live, so we can place a blur
over your...er...privates.”

“Okay. Here goes.” Jax stood up and swiftly doffed

his clothing, and shifted.

“Holy mother of God, he’s a wolf!” Wainwright

gasped. “Did you get that?” he asked the cameraman.

The cameraman’s mouth was hanging wide open, but

he nodded.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what you’ve just seen is

nothing less than extraordinary. There are no special
effects here, no tricks of lighting or sleight of hand.
What was a man one moment was a wolf the next. Can I
touch him?” he asked Dakota.

“Sure,” Dakota said. “Jax, be nice.”
Gritting his teeth (not an easy thing to do in wolf

form), Jax allowed Wainwright to pat his head, then
shifted again, right under Wainwright’s hand. He bit
back a laugh when Wainwright stumbled backward,
almost falling over.

And with that, the interview ended.
Now all they had to do was wait for the fallout and

hope there weren’t pitchforks and torches in their future.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 151

Chapter Sixteen

Marcy stared blankly at Walter Vicks, her mind

unable to process the words coming out of her boss’
mouth. “W-what...?

“You heard me. Either you get an interview with

these... these shapeshifters, or you’re fired!”

She’d never seen Walter so upset. His face was beet

red, bordering on purple, and the vein in the middle of
his forehead was visibly throbbing. Still, she didn’t quite
understand. Nothing was working out the way she’d
intended.

It had at first, of course. She’d flown back from the

ranch and put the show together. Calm, cool, and
confident, she’d sat behind the anchor’s desk, with her
new hairdo and sleek, red Chanel suit, and delivered the
shocking story of the wild shapeshifters living in the
Wyoming mountains.

She’d watched the tape of herself afterward and was

extremely pleased with it. She had just the right amount
of tremor in her voice when she’d told of personally
seeing men shift their shapes into beasts and of her
experience facing the gruesome, flesh-eating monsters
with nothing to protect herself with except her
microphone.

The congratulatory calls had started almost as soon as

the clip aired. Marcy received calls first from LA, then
from all over the world as anchors of the network news
shows, talk show hosts, scientists, tabloid reporters, and
politicians clogged the phone lines. She’d had Ursula
screen the calls, of course, but had graciously spoken
with everyone who called from LA’s “A” list. Suddenly,
she was the hottest commodity in town, with invites to
some of the most exclusive parties and standing
reservations at a half-dozen elite eateries. Oprah wanted

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 152

her. Leno and the ladies at The View did, too, and they
were all prepared to pay big bucks to get her. She’d
grinned so widely for so long that her cheeks were numb
from it.

Then, not thirty-six hours after the broadcast, Walter

Vicks had called her up into his office, and he wasn’t
smiling. Not one bit. In fact, he was positively livid,
screaming at her at the top of his lungs and repeatedly
slamming his hand on the top of his desk.

She felt blindsided. Was he saying that her job was in

jeopardy? It couldn’t be... she was the darling of the
network, the woman who’d singlehandedly broken a
story that would forever change the way man viewed his
neighbor. Why was Walter yelling at her? It didn’t make
sense.

“Walter, I just don’t understand! I broke the story of

the century. You should be kissing my ass right now,”
she said. “I brought in higher ratings with that one show
than your top five line-up did, combined!”

Walter didn’t look impressed. “You lied to me,

Marcy. I believed what you told me when you got back
from that ranch. But in truth, all you did was throw
together a haphazard show that would have been better
suited to Ripley’s Believe It or Not than a serious news
program!” he roared. “You didn’t have the facts, so you
made them up! You portrayed those shapeshifters as
snarling, baby-eating monsters, and swore to me and our
viewers that you were lucky to have escaped with your
life! Sure, our ratings were astronomical... how could
they not be with that type of content? If it were true, this
network would be top dog and our advertiser dollars
would triple.

“But not a day later, the beasts, as you called them,

show up on Jeffrey Wainwright’s Meet the People show,
and guess what? They weren’t snarling and trying to tear

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 153

his throat out. They were holding a rational conversation
with Wainwright, sitting next to him on the goddamn
sofa in their fucking living room, answering questions,
and looking and behaving like normal, everyday
humans! One of them even shifted right there on camera
and didn’t so much as bare his teeth at Wainwright!
Don’t you get it? Wainwright’s show totally and
completely debunked everything in your report. We look
like yellow journalists now. No one will take The
Headline seriously after this. You’ve ruined the show
and the whole fucking network with this stunt!”

“B-but Walter...”
“Don’t ‘but’ me. I should fire you and pull the plug

on the show right now!” Walter screamed. He jabbed a
finger in Marcy’s direction. “Our advertisers are
threatening to pull their accounts. The Board is
breathing fire down my neck. We’re going to find both
of our asses at the curb over this!”

“They are? Why? I mean, you saw the clip...”
“I saw a wolf and a bear change into men, then run

into a house. I did not see any mayhem, human sacrifice,
devil worship, or baby kibble. Unless we can prove that
your original story is correct, that these creatures are to
be feared and destroyed before they devour our children,
we’re done here, finished, cancelled, and probably sued
to the eyeballs by the shifters you defamed! The network
itself might sue. There may be criminal charges involved
if they can prove you doctored the film, since the
footage is property of the network. We’re going to lose
everything, Marcy.”

He took a deep breath and seemed to calm down, but

when he spoke again, his voice was chilling. “The Board
has given me one chance to make this right, or pay the
piper. I don’t even know why I’m doing this, except
maybe because it’s my last opportunity to save the show

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 154

and both our asses, but I’m giving you one last chance.
Get an interview with these hairy yahoos. I don’t care
how you do it, but get them to show themselves as the
blood-drinking, rabid beasts you made them out to be in
the first show, or not only will I fire you and make
certain you never work in this industry again, I’ll make
sure you couldn’t get a job selling TVs at fucking Wal-
Mart! Do I make myself clear?”

Marcy nodded, too stunned to speak. All her recent

dreams of superstardom, of writing her own ticket
anywhere in the world, fizzled instantly. Instead of
being celebrated, she was suddenly faced with
termination, possible lawsuits, and being blackballed in
the business to boot! She could practically hear her life
crumbling around her. Her job meant everything to her.
Everything!

She’d save herself. Somehow, she was going to get

an on-camera interview with someone from the Shifting
Sands Ranch and expose them for what they truly were
on live television -- which, of course, was whatever
Marcy Jarvis said they were. If she determined they
were vicious, cruel animals without conscience, then
that’s what they’d be, and she’d prove it if she had to
break every law known to modern man in the process.
She was desperate and willing to do anything it took to
restore her credibility.

Lie. Cheat. Steal.
Even kill.
She left Walter’s office silently, her mind cranking

through different options.

The first scenario was the most obvious. She could

call the Shifting Sands Ranch, apologize for her
behavior and the report, and offer to let them tell their
side of the story, to set things straight on The Headline.
Then, once she had them in the studio, she could bait

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 155

them until one of them lost control and shifted, then
continue to hammer them with outrageous accusations
until they attacked.

She shook her head, discarding the idea. After what

she’d done and said, there was no way the shifters at the
ranch would want to be within five hundred yards of
her. They were monsters, but they weren’t stupid.

That slug of an intern, Derek MacCauffie, was still

with the ranch as far she knew. Maybe she could get
hold of him, promise him a seat at the anchor’s desk
with her if he agreed to help. The shifters must trust him
if he was still at the ranch after all that had happened.
Derek might be able to convince them to do her show.

No, she thought, he’d never help me. I stole his story,

and by now, he knows it. If I were him, I’d be out for
blood. I’m almost surprised he hasn’t tried to serve me
with court papers yet.

Derek was yet another bridge she’d burned and left

lying in rubble behind her.

Well, if I can’t do it the ethical way -- well, what

passes as ethical for me, anyway -- then I’ll need to be
craftier, she thought. More creative.

She blew past her secretary without a word and

slammed her office door shut behind her. Sliding behind
her desk, her nails tapped anxiously on the desktop as
she waited for her computer to boot up. A few clicks on
the keyboard brought up the raw footage of the film shot
at the ranch. She had the entire thing memorized, but
this time she watched it with a different purpose. She
was looking for an opportunity, for something she could
exploit to get what she wanted.

She gasped as the answer came to her. She paused

and rewound the video, watching the same short
segment over and over again. There it was... the answer
to her problems.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 156

Tapping a couple of keys, she froze the frame and

zoomed in. At this size, the picture was beginning to
pixelate; it was slightly fuzzy and out of focus, but still
clear enough to see.

A laughing, cherub face with an infectious, gap-

toothed grin filled the screen.

The boy. It had been the kid running back and forth

across the front of the ranch house while surrounded by
animals that’d caught Marcy’s attention in the first
place, and now she stared at his image. What are you?
You must be like the others -- you’re one of their
children.

She smiled. Children are pliable, she thought.

Trusting. Eager to please. Easy to fool. Her smile grew
wicked. And their parents would no doubt do anything
to get them back in one piece.

She wouldn’t hurt the kid, of course. Marcy was

many things, but a child abuser wasn’t one of them. She
was just going to... borrow him for a while. The adults
were another story. If she was holding the boy, she
could force them to give her an interview. If she was
lucky, they’d go feral on the set and need to be
tranquilized, right there while The Headline cameras
were rolling. What phenomenal footage that would be!
Perhaps she could even get shots of them being leashed
and caged. Oh, was it too much to hope for that one of
them would have to be put down?

A shiver of delight teased her spine and widened her

smile.

By the time she powered down the computer and

picked up the phone to make airline arrangements, the
details of her plan were gelling in her mind.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 157

Chapter Seventeen

The delivery truck lumbered over the rough road,

pulling to a stop next to the guard shack at the gate that
marked the beginning of the Shifting Sands property.

Stan, a sheriff’s deputy for the town of Cedar Creek,

was on duty. He was sitting on a tall stool next to Len,
the guard at the gate, jawing about the hubbub discovery
of the shifters had caused. After all the commotion last
week with the reporters and protesters and all, the
Sheriff had assigned a man to the guard shack to help
with security for the ranch. They’d also closed the road
up to the ranch, keeping out everybody who didn’t have
business up there.

For himself, Stan had never had a problem with the

folks at Shifting Sands. They were generous with their
donations, minded their business, and never gave the
Sheriff’s Office one lick of trouble. Of course, some
people didn’t see it that way. Stan figured those people
must be scared, and he admitted it was a little creepy to
think that Wells and Greene and the rest could turn into
an animal without warning. Personally, Stan didn’t care
what-all they turned into. They were good, decent folk,
okay in his book. Hell, it could’ve been worse... they
could’ve had a commune of those hippies living up here
on the mountain, smoking everything but the seat
cushions, or one of those cults like you saw on the
television. He’d take the shifters over them any day of
the week.

He glanced up as the truck rumbled to a halt in front

of the gate. The driver opened his window and handed
Stan a sheet of paper. “Got a load of produce going up
to the ranch,” he said.

Stan looked past the driver to his assistant, who was

sitting slouched in the passenger seat with a ball cap

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 158

pulled down low. The hat did nothing to hide her
feminine attributes. Huh, he thought. A woman. He
shrugged. They’re working everywhere now. Didn’t the
Sheriff just make Ruthie Simmons a deputy? Someday,
one will be president, just you wait and see. It sure ain’t
a man’s world any more. He turned his attention to the
paperwork and motioned for the driver to get out and
open the back of the truck for inspection.

Everything looked to be in order. There were boxes

of fruit, a few vegetables, and a couple of sacks of flour.
Stan handed the driver back the paperwork and nodded
to Len to open the gate.

He didn’t see the sly, smug smile on the truck

driver’s assistant’s face as the truck pulled past the gate
and headed for the ranch house.

***
Marcy could barely contain herself. Her plan was

working perfectly. Even though it had taken several days
and every one of her more dubious contacts to find a
man willing to pose as a driver for her scheme, and a
piss load of money to guarantee both his assistance and
his silence, she was finally in!

Her plan was simple. She’d faked delivery papers,

rented a truck, and together with Sid, her hired gun,
would enter the property right under the goddamned
shifters’ noses. Then all she had to do was find the kid
and get gone.

It was going even better than she’d thought. The

shifters were keeping out of sight, probably due to the
helicopters that continually flew over head as paparazzi
circled like vultures, practically hanging out of the
aircraft with their cameras.

No one, she noticed, seemed to be paying any

attention to the white delivery truck with “Evergreen

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 159

Farms” emblazoned on the side over a painted bowl of
fruit.

“There,” she said to the driver, a burly man named

Art. He had black hair and an even darker nature, but he
was perfect for her purposes. He didn’t care why she
wanted the boy; all he cared about was the money. “Park
over there, next to the barn.”

“Can’t get charged with kidnapping,” he’d said. “The

boy ain’t human, right? The worst we can get collared
for is livestock rustling.”

Brilliant man, that Art. “Let’s concentrate on not

getting caught at all, okay?” Marcy was so excited she
could almost forgive the sour stench that clung to him
like cologne. Almost, but not quite. She’d nearly had to
hold her breath during the entire trip up the mountain.

It didn’t matter. Another short while and she’d have

what she came for and be safely on her way back to LA.

Marcy got out of the truck and closed the door

carefully, trying not to make any noise. She crept around
the side of the barn and peeked into the ranch house’s
yard.

There was no one in sight.
Where was the boy? They were probably keeping

him locked up in the house. Damn it! Didn’t they know
kids needed fresh air? Well, she’d provided for that. She
signaled to Art to get moving.

He nodded and shouldered a bag of flour. She picked

up a small box of fruit, following behind him as he made
his way to the front porch of the ranch house, and
watched as he knocked on the door. She was careful to
keep her hat pulled low and her head down, trying to
stay hidden behind Art’s larger body. The last thing she
needed now was to be recognized. It would spoil
everything.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 160

The door opened to show a woman’s face. She

wasn’t smiling. “Who are you? How did you get on our
property?”

“Sorry, Ma’am. We’re here from Evergreen Farms.

The last order we filled for you was short a couple of
items, and the boss sent me up here with them. The
deputy at the gate checked out my paperwork. He let us
in.”

When the woman cracked the door open, he handed

her the falsified paperwork. She glanced over it, biting
her lower lip. “I guess it’s okay. Is this all there is? You
can bring it in through here. Put it in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. Sorry for your troubles up here,

by the way. I never had any problem with you people.
Always been good to me when I delivered up here,” Art
said, and Marcy could’ve kicked him. No embellishing,
she’d told him. Keep it simple. No conversation beyond
what was necessary, and yet here he was, yammering
on.

Luckily, the woman just smiled and stepped aside for

them to enter the house.

They passed through the living room on the way to

the kitchen, and there, sitting in front of the television,
watching some childish cartoon show, was the dark-
haired boy she’d caught on tape. He turned his cherub
face toward her, and she smiled at him.

Just as she’d hoped, he was full of curiosity and

jumped up to follow them into the kitchen. The only
other person there was the woman, whom the child ran
to immediately, clutching at her legs. His mother? It’s
possible, but she seems too old to have such a young kid,
Marcy thought. His grandmother, perhaps.

Marcy placed her box on the kitchen table. This was

the “iffy” part of her plan. She had to separate the child
from the woman and get him outside and into the truck

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quickly, before anyone else showed up. A cold drop of
sweat dripped down her spine, chilling it as she recalled
the wolf and bear she’d captured on film. If they were
here and caught her trying to take the boy, they’d rip her
to pieces, she was sure of it.

She began unloading the vegetables from the box,

trying to buy a little time. She was hoping the woman
would step out of the room, leaving the boy behind. Of
course, she wasn’t that lucky.

As it turned out, she didn’t need luck. She had Art.
Art, evidently, wasn’t a patient man. The moment the

woman turned her back on him, he picked up a pan
hanging over the stove and brought it down in a swift
arc over her head. The woman slumped to the ground, a
trickle of crimson oozing at her temple.

“Shit!” Marcy exclaimed, jumping back. “Art, are

you crazy? That’s assault!”

He scowled at her. “You wanted the kid, you got him.

Let’s go, before one of those shifters show up.” He
scooped up the child, clamping one large hand over the
boy’s mouth, cutting off a scream, and ducked out the
back door of the kitchen.

Marcy stood frozen for a moment. She was quite

willing to do anything to get what she wanted, and she
wouldn’t have expected that violence would impact her
so strongly, but the sight of the woman’s blood shocked
her. Had Art killed her? She took a closer look and was
relieved to see that the woman was still breathing.
Reassured, she stepped over the woman’s body and
slipped outside, hurrying after Art.

They kept to the shadows, trying to stay out of sight

of the house’s windows and the choppers still circling
overhead. They made it all the way to the barn before
Marcy’s luck ran out.

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A man stood between them and the truck. He was a

huge, hulking man, and the expression on his face was
enough to make Marcy skid to a halt. That he was
furious was plain to see.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the man

growled, in a voice so deep, Marcy felt it in her bones.
“Put him down, now, or I swear to God there won’t be
enough left of you to fill a thimble.”

Then, he roared.
It wasn’t a human sound, not at all. It was guttural

and fierce, and loud, almost deafening. It rolled across
Marcy like a sonic wave, and she screamed in response.

Art must’ve been just as stunned as Marcy, because

he let his hand drop from the kid’s mouth.

“Kong! Kong! They hurt Grandma!” the kid cried.
“It’s okay, JD. I won’t let them hurt you,” Kong

answered. Marcy could see he was visibly struggling for
control. His entire body was bristling, muscles quivering
under his skin. He turned his hard, cold gaze on Art.
“Put the kid down, now. This is your last warning.” He
ripped open his shirt, popping the buttons and shredding
the fabric between his powerful hands. He shimmied out
of his jeans, standing naked before them. Marcy realized
he was getting ready to shift.

What did a huge man named “Kong” shift into? She

didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.

She could hear a commotion coming from the house,

now. Kong’s roar must’ve alerted the others. They’d be
overrun with shifters at any moment. She turned her
eyes toward the sky and the helicopters circling
overhead. Acting on instinct, she began to scream for
help, waving her arms at the choppers.

“Help! Help! They’re trying to kill us!” she cried, as

loudly as she could, jumping up and down. “Help us!”

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“Lady, you’re crazier than I am!” Kong roared. “Give

me the boy!”

When he shifted, Marcy’s scream was genuine.
The gorilla was gigantic, with a huge, domed head

and long, lethal-looking incisors. It beat its chest and the
ground as it roared its fury. Marcy’s nose filled with its
rank smell, and she felt lightheaded. She couldn’t faint.
Not now!

Suddenly, another man ran at them from the direction

of the barn. She recognized him instantly -- it was Derek
MacCauffie, her old assistant. “Derek! Derek help us!”

Derek’s eyes were trained on the gorilla. To Marcy’s

shock, he walked right up to the beast and put a hand on
its shoulder. “Kong, calm down. Shift back and tell me
what’s going on.”

The gorilla didn’t tear Derek apart as Marcy

would’ve thought. Instead, it seemed to calm a little,
although it was still grunting and bobbing, obviously
distressed.

“Come on, buddy. Shift back. You know I can’t

understand you in this form,” Derek said. He seemed to
notice Art then, and the boy Art still held. The
expression on Derek’s face darkened as understanding
registered in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing with
JD? Put him down now, or so help me I’ll set Kong
loose on your ass!”

Kong roared again, loud enough to make Marcy’s

ears ring.

Marcy gathered her courage. “You’d better keep that

ape leashed,” she said, pouring venom into her voice.
She pointed toward the helicopters. “We’re being
filmed. You’ll be arrested if you try anything.”

“You’re kidnapping JD!” Derek spat. She had to give

him a little credit; she’d never suspected he had a

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 164

backbone. “You’re the one breaking the law here, not
us!”

“Newsflash, Derek. They’re not human, but I am, and

if you hurt me, you go to jail,” she countered.

“You? Human?” Derek scoffed. His voice dripped

derision. “You lost your humanity a long time ago,
Marcy. Who uses a child as a pawn to get a story?
That’s what you want him for, isn’t it? To force the
shifters to let you interview them? You aren’t human...
you’re a bitch, in the truest sense of the word.”

He was quick, she’d give him that much. “My

motives don’t matter. All that does is what the film will
show... your gorilla threatening the lives of a man,
woman, and a child. He could be my kid, for all that the
viewers know.”

She could see doubt flicker in Derek’s eyes. She had

him by the balls, and he knew it. It gave her a sense of
satisfaction, and she smiled. “You should have stuck to
fetching my coffee, Derek. You’re way out of your
league here.”

Art chose that moment to make his move. He broke

away, still carrying JD, and raced toward the truck.
Marcy gaped; without the boy, she had no leverage at all
against the shifters.

Kong roared again and took off after Art. The gorilla

was faster than Marcy would’ve expected; he closed in
on Art and the boy quickly.

“Kong! No!” Derek screamed.
For a moment, Marcy hoped the ape would kill Art.

That would certainly take the heat off of her if it was
caught on camera. She almost smiled... until a strong
hand gripped her upper arm and spun her around. She
found herself facing the bear-shifter, Dakota. He was tall
and powerful, and his hand was clamped around her arm

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 165

like a vise. She couldn’t break free, no matter how hard
she struggled.

In the back of her mind, she hoped her thrashing was

being caught on camera. It would look bad for the
shifter, since he was so big, and she, so slender and
feminine. She screamed, long and loud, and hoped it
could be picked up over the noise of the choppers. Even
if it wasn’t, it would be obvious on film that she was
terrified.

Then a wolf charged past them, heading toward Art,

the boy, and the gorilla in a blur of silver-black. She bit
back a smile, imagining the bloodshed when the animals
reached Art. This was perfect! It was just what she’d
hoped she could get on film... the shifters showing their
true animal natures!

She turned back to Dakota, and looked into his dark

eyes, ready to smugly tell him that she’d won, that
they’d lost, and she’d exposed them for their true
natures, but what she saw in them chilled her blood,
making her question the wisdom in her plan. Dakota
might have been in his human form, but his bear was
looking at her through his eyes, and he wasn’t happy.
Not at all. In that moment, she wondered whether she’d
survive to celebrate her victory.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 166

Chapter Eighteen

It was over quickly, but not in the way any of them

wanted or expected.

Kong saw little besides the color red; he was more

furious than he’d ever been before. When he’d realized
the man was kidnapping JD, his memories of being
mistreated as a child in the carnival swam to the surface.
Only two thoughts were clear; kill the man and make
sure JD was safe.

Derek saw only Kong, desperate to get him to listen

to reason before he tore the man apart on camera. No
matter the reason, he was sure images of Kong killing
the man would seal Kong’s doom. He’d be arrested and
tried for manslaughter, if not outright murder. No one
would ever believe the shifters were decent, peaceful
people again. They’d be viewed with suspicion
wherever they went, if indeed, they were allowed to live
free at all anymore.

Marcy was torn between feeling joyous that her plan

to frame the shifters was succeeding -- if not exactly as
she’d envisioned it would, and fear that Dakota would
kill her before she could reap the benefits of her hard
work.

Dakota was struggling to retain his human form and

not kill the woman who’d brought all of this down on
their heads. They’d been doing fine until she came along
with her cameras and her lies. For the first time in his
life, Dakota wanted to taste human blood.

Jax was torn. On one hand, he wanted to get to the

man holding JD before JD could be hurt. On the other,
he wanted to shred Marcy into bits of human confetti.
He dashed after the man, only because Dakota had
already reached the woman.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 167

The house emptied as the other shifters ran up behind

them, gathering in a half-circle around Dakota and
Marcy.

Deidre’s head was still bleeding, a slow, steady

trickle that would’ve required stitches to close had she
been human. As it was, although she was still dizzy and
had a headache, she knew the wound would heal on its
own. Her only concern at the moment was her grandson,
being spirited away in the arms of a stranger.

Oscar wanted to shift into his rhino, to gore anybody

and everybody who stood between him and his
grandson. Only the fact that Deidre was still swaying on
her feet kept him from shifting and charging.

Caedes was struggling to keep from shifting into his

velociraptor. He hadn’t forgotten the choppers filming
the action from above the ranch. Capturing his dinosaur
on film would only add to their troubles.

Ghost was holding Aiden tightly, refusing to let him

go, trying to talk him down from the height of his rage.
Aiden’s eyes weren’t the golden color they usually were.
They were the reptilian yellow-green of The Other.

Tai and Mal exchanged a single, knowing glance,

then held out their hands and focused their combined
talents on the man who was holding JD.

Art saw none of this; his only concern was reaching

the truck before the gorilla could catch him, jumping
inside and driving away from this madhouse. He didn’t
care that he’d left Marcy to the mercy of the shifters.
She deserved it. They were supposed to slip in and out.
It was going to be easy, she’d said.

Well, the bitch had lied, hadn’t she? It hadn’t been

easy. They’d been caught with the kid, and now a
fucking gorilla was getting ready to tear him apart. And
was that a wolf’s howl he heard?

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 168

Fuck her, and fuck them! His thoughts didn’t go far

beyond getting in the truck and leaving. He’d drop the
kid off at a rest area on the Interstate later, once he was
safe.

He’d nearly made it to the cab when the kid was

suddenly wrenched free from his arms. His eyes
widened as the boy was suspended in midair, hovering
for a second before floating away toward the group of
people standing by Marcy. A woman and man stood
slightly apart from the others, staring hard at the boy
with their hands outstretched. The kid soared through
the air and into the woman’s waiting arms.

Then the gorilla hit him with the force of a freight

train, and the world went black.

***

“I’m getting you a lawyer,” Derek said. “You

shouldn’t have hit the guy, but you were only trying to
protect JD and the ranch.”

Kong looked miserable, sitting on the hard cot in the

small jail cell, his head hanging low. He hadn’t spoken a
word since being arrested and incarcerated, not even to
Derek.

It hadn’t taken long for one of the reporters in the

choppers to radio in that all Hell was breaking loose on
the ranch, or for the Sheriff to respond. He’d thrown the
book at Kong, despite the other shifters’ statements that
Kong had been provoked and was only trying to protect
JD.

Art Shoemaker would be arrested, too, but he’d been

airlifted to the Jackson Hole hospital, and they had to
wait until he regained consciousness to read him his
Miranda rights.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 169

Kong glanced up at him, and the anguish in his eyes

made Derek’s very soul ache in sympathy. “I’m in a
cage... again.”

“We’ll get you out of here, Kong,” Derek promised.

“I swear it.”

“No. They’ll never let me go now. Do you know

what they’ll do to me after the trial? They’d never dare
put me in with the prison population, not knowing what
I can do to the other prisoners. It’ll be solitary
confinement, and that’s only if they don’t decide to put
me down. I’ll be in a cage forever.”

“Don’t talk like that! I’m not giving up on you,

Kong. I’m not going to let them railroad you just
because you’re a shifter!” Derek cried. It was killing
him to see Kong like this, and it infuriated him that the
Sheriff had let Marcy go, while taking Kong to jail. It
was a pure case of discrimination, in Derek’s opinion.
The Sheriff had believed Marcy only because she was
human, and the others were not. He was convinced of it.

The videos of the attack looked bad for the shifters,

and the only person who could refute Marcy’s story was
Art Shoemaker, and he wasn’t talking yet. Still, Derek
was positive the truth would come to light as soon as all
the details were found out.

“Go away, Derek,” Kong said. He was looking down

at his hands again, refusing to meet Derek’s eyes. “Just
go away. Forget you ever met me. You’ll be much better
off.”

“How can you say that after--"
“After what? We had sex. Big deal. One night, that’s

all we had. Go away, Derek. I don’t need you here.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this. I felt something

that night, Kong. Something I never felt before--"

“I didn’t.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 170

Derek gasped, feeling as though a knife had sliced

through him. He couldn’t catch his breath for the pain
Kong’s words caused him. “You’re lying! I know you
felt something. I saw it in your eyes. You asked me to
stay with you!”

“I lied. I wanted to get laid again, that’s all.”
Derek didn’t know if he wanted to cry or break

Kong’s neck. “Fine. If that’s how you want it, then sit in
there and rot, for all I care!”

He turned on his heel and walked away, but every

step drove that knife in deeper. He felt as if he was
leaving his life in the cell with Kong. He didn’t
understand it. He’d never believed in love at first sight,
but he couldn’t deny that he felt something deeper than
mere physical attraction for Kong, or that Kong’s words
had hurt him deeply. Stupid. I was stupid to believe one
night together constituted a relationship. I’ll bet he’s
been laughing at me all this time.

He was so absorbed in his painful thoughts that he

almost walked smack into Jax and Dakota, who were
heading down the corridor toward Kong’s cell,
accompanied by a deputy and another man in a dark suit.

“Whoa,” Dakota said. His hands caught Derek’s

elbows, steadying him. “What’s wrong? Where are you
going?”

“Home, to LA. I’m done here,” Derek said softly. He

didn’t want to look at either of them, didn’t want them
to see the misery he was feeling.

“LA? You can’t go to LA!” Jax said. “What about

us? What about Kong? You can’t leave him.”

“Yes, I can. He told me to go. I was an idiot to

think... well, he doesn’t want me here. He was clear
about that,” Derek said. He heard the catch in his voice
and turned his head away so they wouldn’t see the tears
burning in his eyes.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 171

“Kong told you to leave?” Dakota asked. “Are you

sure he didn’t tell you to go wait at the ranch house?”

Derek looked up at the incredulity in Dakota’s voice.

“No, he told me we were through. That we never really
had anything to begin with, and that he didn’t want me,
period. I don’t think it’s possible to misunderstand that.”

When Jax spoke, his tone was almost reverent.

“Kong told you to leave. Nah... really? Wow. I didn’t
think he had it in him.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek demanded. He

was in pain, and now he was confused. He just didn’t
have the fortitude to play games. “Tell me.”

Dakota smiled, which Derek thought was odd,

considering it had to be clear to Dakota how much pain
Derek was in. “Jax, you stay here and explain things to
Derek. I’ll go with Mr. Umbry and the deputy to have a
talk with Kong.”

“No, you explain it to Derek,” Jax argued. “I’ll go

talk to the monkey.”

“He’s an ape, and no, you won’t. You and Kong are

like vinegar and water. I don’t trust you with him by
yourself. You and Derek talk. I’ll be right back,” Dakota
said. He turned away and jogged toward Kong’s cell
leaving Derek and Jax alone in the hallway.

“Why are you two here, anyway? Who was that other

guy? Shouldn’t you be doing damage control at the
ranch?” Derek asked. He knew he sounded peevish, but
he had a good right to be. He’d given up his job and his
reputation, not to mention the story of the century, for
what he’d thought had been a miracle, love, and had just
had his heart and dreams trampled into the dust. He had
a right to be irritated.

Jax thrust his hand through his hair. “We’ve got

Aiden and Ghost keeping an eye on things at the ranch.
The man is one of our lawyers, Mr. Umbry. He’s gotten

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 172

the charges against Kong dropped. That idiot, Art
Shoemaker, woke up in the hospital and spilled his guts.
I think they’ve already arrested Marcy. We came down
here to spring the big, hairy idiot.”

Derek was shocked at the elation that tore through

him at the news. Kong was free!

Then he remembered that while Kong might be free,

Kong still wanted nothing to do with him, and his mood
instantly soured again.

Jax put an arm around his shoulders. “Listen well,

young Jedi, and I shall teach you the way of the
shifters.”

“What? What are you talking about?”
“Remember when I said that I didn’t think Kong had

it in him? My opinion of Kong wasn’t very favorable. In
essence, I thought he was a moron, and a crazy one, at
that. It seems I was mistaken, and I’m a big enough man
to admit it.”

Derek shook his head, befuddled. “I still don’t get it.”
“Kong's a shifter, and shifters mate for life. Now, I’m

not talking about sex. We can have sex with whoever we
want, but when we meet our mates, we never, ever let
them go. You’re his mate, Derek. That’s why he risked
his freedom, something he prizes above all else, to come
back to the ranch with you and JD, and why he stayed at
the ranch after Marcy broke the story. For him to tell
you to leave so that you wouldn’t be saddled with the
heartache of being in love with an inmate was a sacrifice
I can’t even begin to fathom.”

“M-mates? You mean like friends?”
Jax rolled his eyes. “You know better than that,

Derek. That’s why you’re so miserable. It seems that
shifters’ human mates feel the connection, too. At least,
it’s been that way with all the shifters I’ve met over the
years.” Jax sobered, and Derek could see compassion in

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 173

his eyes. “Sending you away must be killing him, Derek.
Combined with being caged, his worst fear, I’m
surprised he’s not climbing the walls by now. Go back.
Don’t let him fuck up both your lives. You belong
together. For what it’s worth, I think he’s a good man
and a good shifter. He risked his neck for JD. That
makes him a hero in my book.”

As comprehension slowly dawned on him, Derek felt

relief so profound it nearly dropped him to his knees. “I
knew I wasn’t wrong about him! I knew what I felt for
him was real!” He threw his arms around Jax, hugging
Jax tightly. “Thank you, Jax! Thanks for this, and for
getting him sprung!” He turned Jax loose and began
running back toward Kong’s cell.

“It’s all good,” he heard Jax call after him, “But if

you tell him what I said about him being a hero, I’ll
deny everything!”

Derek raced all the way back to Kong’s cell, slowing

only when he neared it. He could hear Dakota speaking.

“Kong, be reasonable! You’re free. You can’t stay in

here!”

“Like Hell, I can’t. You make me leave and I’ll just

do something to get me tossed back in. I’ve got nothing
to live for anymore. Not now. Maybe my father was
right all along. Maybe I do belong in a cage. I’m too
stupid to be allowed to run loose.”

“You’re not stupid. What you did was heroic, and

what you tried to do for Derek was incredibly selfless.
He’ll come back, Kong. You’ll see.”

“No, he won’t, Dakota, and I don’t blame him. You

didn’t hear the things I said to him! He’ll never come
back. He shouldn’t anyway. He needs to go find some
human to love, so he can have a normal life. He doesn’t
need a fleabag like me.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 174

Derek paused, touched by Kong’s words, but it only

reminded him that Kong had lied and tried to send him
away. He pasted a scowl on his face as he approached
the now open door of Kong’s cell. “Dakota? I need you
and your friends to step outside for a minute. I realized I
couldn’t go without speaking my mind to Kong, and I’d
like a minute alone with him.”

Dakota looked confused. “Derek? Didn’t Jax talk to

you?”

“Oh, he talked, all right. Would you please give us

some privacy?” Derek asked again, still frowning at
Kong.

“I’m going to skin Jax and nail his pelt over the

fireplace,” Dakota grumbled as he left the cell, followed
by the lawyer. Derek was lucky the deputy didn’t hang
around, since he really didn’t want an audience.
Evidently, the deputy didn’t see the need to stay and
guard a free man, and left with Dakota.

Kong glanced at Derek, looking even more miserable

than he had when Derek first left him. “Well? Go ahead,
get it out of your system. It won’t make a difference.”

“Enough, Kong. Jax told me everything,” Derek said.

“How could you lie to me like that?”

“That mangy, overgrown mutt! I’m going to beat him

senseless! Why couldn’t he mind his own business?”
Kong grumbled. “What did he tell you?”

“Enough to understand why you did what you did.”

Derek’s anger bled out of him, and he sat down next to
Kong on the narrow cot. “Listen, I’m going to try this
again. I love you, Kong. I don’t know how it happened,
and I don’t know why, but I also don’t care. All that
matters is how you feel about me. Now, tell me the
truth, monkey-boy. Do you care about me at all?”

Kong looked up at him with moist eyes. “Yeah, I do.

More than I can say. That’s why I tried to send you

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 175

away. Everything’s getting too complicated... you don’t
need this shit fucking up your life.”

“No, but I do need you. I’m not leaving. Please,

promise me you’ll never do anything like this again. It
damned near killed me to walk away from you.”

A small smile, the first Derek had seen grace Kong’s

face since before all the shit hit the fan at the ranch,
brought life back into Kong’s eyes. “I promise. I love
you, too. I have since the first night in Woodster’s
house. I just never thought you could love me back.”

Derek grinned and leaned in for a kiss. “It’s settled

then. Can we go home, now?”

“Uh, Derek? Where is home, exactly?” Kong asked.

It was a good question.

“The ranch, maybe, at least for a while, if Dakota and

Jax can find room for us. I don’t think you’d be happy in
LA, Kong. There are too many people, too many
buildings. We can get a place out here somewhere and
find jobs. We’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Kong said. “You don’t mind

living out here in the middle of nowhere? What about
your career? Won’t you miss it?”

“My career led me to you. I figure it’s served its

purpose,” Derek said with a smile. “Besides, I’d miss
you more, and that’s a fact.”

When they kissed again, it took Dakota clearing his

throat and pointing at his watch to get them to end it.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 176

Chapter Nineteen

Dakota lay in bed, but sleep eluded him. His mind

kept going over everything that had happened, and he
wondered when, if ever, it would all end. Would things
ever go back to the way they were?

Marcy’s trial had been short and sweet. Her lawyer

tried to argue that the shifters weren’t human, and
therefore, couldn’t own property. He called for both the
trespassing and attempted kidnapping charges to be
dropped. The worst she could be charged with,
according to her counsel, was theft of livestock.

The judge took one look at JD, with his big eyes and

dimpled smile, and overruled Marcy’s lawyer’s
contentions. She was found guilty of felony kidnapping,
along with a slew of other, lesser charges. Marcy was
going away for a long, long time.

Art Shoemaker took a plea bargain in exchange for

testifying against Marcy, and found himself in his new
prison home in even less time.

Dakota only wished the furor over the shapeshifters’

existence would settle down as quickly. Their lives
hadn’t been the same since Marcy first aired her report.
They’d had to hire a team of lawyers to represent their
interests against greedy ranchers who wanted their land,
outraged groups who wanted them caged, and hunters
who wanted their hides.

They’d also had to change their phone number and

hire a service to sort through the tons of mail they
received from people from all over the world. Some
wished them well, others requested money, and a few
threatened their lives.

Doctors and scientists from all over the world were

clamoring for the opportunity to exam them, to run tests
to try to determine exactly how different they were from

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 177

humans and what gave them their unique abilities. They
wanted to measure the shifter’s abilities, monitor their
health, and explore the dark corners of their minds. So
far, the shifters had politely but firmly rejected all
requests.

Politicians were divided equally into two camps:

those who believed the shifters were more human than
animal, and those who believed it was the other way
around. All of them wanted to pass laws to support their
point of view, but none of them could seem to agree on
anything. Every bill supporting either side that made it
into Congress was defeated.

The press eventually began to lose interest, although

every so often Dakota and Jax would get a call from a
talk show or from a producer who wanted to make a
movie of their lives. Again, all requests were politely
refused.

Once in a while, shifters not associated with the

Shifting Sands would surface, going public with their
stories, whether for fame or profit or some other reason.
It became almost common place to see shifters featured
on the news.

All Dakota and Jax wanted was to be left alone to get

back to the business of living their lives. It was nearly
impossible, though. Even going into Cedar Creek for
supplies was a test of their patience. Some folks had
accepted them, but others hadn't, and it was trial to
ignore the curious -- and sometimes hostile -- stares as
they walked around town.

The ranch lost a few buyers, as well, which affected

their income a little, although not as much as Dakota
would’ve expected. Financially, they were still doing
fine. If only people would understand that the shifters
were just normal folks who laughed, and cried, and bled
just like everybody else!

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 178

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”
Dakota rolled over on his side, looking at Jax. “Yeah.

I can’t seem to stop myself. What are you doing up? I
thought you were sleeping.”

“I was. Your tossing and turning woke me up.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. That’s what I’m here for, right?” Jax

rolled over, sliding a bare arm and leg over Dakota’s
body. “To distract you from your worries.”

Dakota smiled. “Oh? Gonna give me something else

to think about?”

“Baby, by the time I’m through with you, you won’t

be able to think,” Jax replied. His hand slithered under
the comforter and found Dakota’s cock.

Dakota sighed as Jax milked his tension away via his

dick. He felt himself grow hard in Jax’s hand, and his
sigh deepened into a groan. “Oh, yeah. That’s it, like
that.”

“Like this? You sure? Or like this?” Jax asked.

Dakota could hear the devil in his voice and knew what
was coming. His body tightened in anticipation.

Jax threw back the covers with his other hand and

lowered himself over Dakota’s groin. His hand was
swiftly replaced by his luscious mouth, making Dakota
gasp in pleasure. “Fuck, Jax! Oh, man... harder. Suck
harder.”

He threaded his hands into Jax’s salt and pepper hair,

pushing down a little, urging Jax to take more of his
length. God! Jax’s mouth was so sweet, so hot...
Dakota’s breath grew ragged as Jax’s lips and teeth
tortured him, driving him steadily toward completion.

“No, not yet,” Dakota cried hoarsely. It was an effort

on his part, but he pulled away from Jax and sat up,
reaching for the nightstand. He pulled out the lube and

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 179

tossed it to Jax. “I want you in me, baby. I want you so
deep inside me, I can taste you.”

Jax was silent as he caught the tube and slicked

himself, but he didn’t need to say anything. The raw
hunger in his eyes communicated everything Dakota
needed to know.

Dakota rolled to his stomach, lowering his head to

rest on his folded arms. The air felt cool against his hot
flesh, but not for long. A moment later, the burn of Jax’s
prick entering him sizzled through him like slow
lightning. His body clenched around Jax, as if to hold
Jax there forever.

“You’re so fucking tight, Dakota. So good...”
He groaned as he pictured Jax’s thick cock sliding

into his ass, deep, balls deep. Jax’s cock hit Dakota’s
magic spot at the same time Jax slapped his ass with an
open palm, the sting only serving to heighten the
pleasure. “Fuck me, Jax!” he gasped, as he reached
around his hip to stroke Jax’s thigh.

Jax murmured something unintelligible, but his

meaning was clear as he began to move, ramming
himself into Dakota’s body, his cock filling Dakota
completely, retreating and slamming home again.

The erotic sounds of sex filled the room; flesh

meeting flesh, slick and wet, low-pitched voices
grunting and gasping their pleasure. Dakota’s senses
were inundated from all directions -- sight, sound, and
most of all, touch. His body felt on fire, blistering with
need. He cried out and lifted himself, his hand sliding
under his belly, searching for his cock, desperate for
release.

Jax’s voice was edgy and strained, adding impetus to

Dakota’s climax. “Yeah, do it, Dakota. Let me feel you
come.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 180

“Oh, fuck me!” Dakota cried. “I’m coming!” His

hand worked his cock feverishly as his orgasm soared.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the flood of
pleasure rocketing through him.

Jax continued to thrust against him, pulling the last

few drops of come from him, until he finally heard Jax’s
guttural cry as Jax came, thrusting erratically against
Dakota a few last times. Jax was slick with sweat and
smelled like man and sex when Jax slid free from
Dakota’s body and rolled him over for a deep kiss.

Dakota felt like he’d been rode hard and put away

wet. He didn’t have the energy to do anything more than
help Jax rip off the sheets and crawl onto the bare
mattress. They could wash up and make the bed later.
Right now, he needed to recoup the energy Jax had
sapped from him.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, too sleepy and

sated to even talk, he realized something.

No matter what the future held for the shifters at the

ranch, no matter how their very public coming out
affected them, the most important thing in his life hadn’t
changed one iota, and never would.

He still loved Jax, and was loved in return. Their

feelings for each other went bone-deep, matured and
aged by the years gone by. As long as he had Jax, and
Jax, him, they could and would weather anything the
world threw at them.

They would survive. No, more than that.
They would live.
~END

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 181

Glitter Palms

Gray had a headache. It began as a dull, persistent

throbbing at his temples, but it grew worse as time went
on. Of course, the bells and whistles of the slot machines
didn't help ease the painful thunder inside his skull, nor
did the excited screams of the gamblers on the casino
floor.

Anyone who thinks werewolves have no need for

ibuprofen never walked on my paws, he thought, as he
wearily pinched the bridge of his nose between his
thumb and forefinger. He couldn’t go home, couldn’t
even lock himself in a small, dark room for a few hours
until his migraine passed. His Pack owned the casino,
and as the casino manager, it was his job to make sure it
ran without a hiccup.

A particularly shrill woman shrieked at her good

fortune as he passed her, competing with the machine's
jackpot siren and flashing lights to form a spear of
agony that pierced Gray's skull. He bit back a moan,
shot her a black look, and moved away toward the
cashier cages at the rear of the casino.

His earpiece chose that moment to squelch with

static. Spurred by the high-pitched noise, a sharp pain
shot through his teeth, setting them on edge and bringing
the sting of tears to his eyes. He squeezed them shut for
a second.

"Boss? You need to come up to the Crow's Nest."
It was Marc Bright Water, his Chief of Security, and

mate of Gray’s sister, Ana. "What is it, Marc? I'm on my
way to the cages." A commotion rose at a nearby craps
table, the shooter whooping something about hard
eights. Gray's head pounded in response, and he shrank
away, threading his way in between the tables. "Can't
you handle whatever it is?"

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 182

His question was met with silence that stretched long

enough for him to glance up toward the security camera
above his head. "Marc? Did you copy?"

"It's a Code Black, Boss."
Gray rolled his eyes, which only made his headache

worse. “I copy. Take care of it.”

"Um, there’s a problem. You'd better come up." The

Security Office was located on the second floor of the
casino that overlooked the gaming floor. They called it
the Crow’s Nest because from there they could observe
every inch of the casino.

Gray swore under his breath. "Okay,” he said

reluctantly. “I’m on my way up." He turned heel and
headed back the way he'd come, threading his way
between the gaming tables.

There were several code words used in his casino to

alert the staff of potential problems. Code Blue was for
medical emergencies. Code Red meant fire. Code Green
stood for a robbery in progress.

Code Black meant someone was counting cards,

using loaded dice, or messing with the slot machines. It
rarely happened, and when it did, most of the
perpetrators were caught immediately. His security force
was trained for it. They could spot a cheater a mile off
and knew the procedure to follow when one was found.
Why Marc needed Gray present was a mystery, one he
really didn’t want to deal with today. Not when his skull
was getting ready to explode all over the roulette tables.

He reached the elevator and stepped inside, pressing

the button for the second floor, tapping his foot
impatiently as the doors slowly slid closed. Thirty
seconds later, he was inside the Crow’s Nest. A long
desk lined with closed circuit monitors was positioned in
front of a wall-to-wall one-way mirror. Marc sat at the

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 183

desk, scowling intently at the third monitor from the
right.

"Hey, Boss. It’s this guy in row six, at number

thirteen, the Triple Diamond machine. He's hit eleven
jackpots in the past two hours, all on different machines,
plus at least sixteen smaller but still substantial hits,"
Marc said, pointing to the monitor. “The guy has chits
stuffed inside his pockets worth over fifty grand.”

Gray leaned over his shoulder, staring at the small

black and white image on the screen. A dark-haired man
dressed in a nondescript, long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans
sat in front of a slot machine. Gray watched as the man
fed the machine a few quarters and pressed a button.

Marc hit a button and the camera zoomed in for a

tighter shot of the man and the machine. He peered at
the payout line. One bright red seven stopped in the first
slot. A second seven clicked into place, followed by a
third. Gray didn't need to hear them to know the bells
and whistles were ringing, signaling a major hit on the
machine. The man watched as the machine spit out a slip
of paper with his winnings on it, picked it up and shoved
it inside a pocket. He didn’t jump up, or yell, or even
crack a smile.

"That makes the seventh one he's hit! The odds

against winning seven jackpots in the space of a couple
of hours are astronomical, but he’s scored one on every
machine he’s sat at. He’s got to be screwing us over, but
I’ll be damned if I can figure out how. These machines
are electronic, not the old fashioned spinning reels.
Magnets wouldn’t do him any good, so how’s he doing
it?” Marc said, jabbing his finger at the monitor. “Plus,
he’s trying to play it smart. Never hits twice on a
machine, never a progressive jackpot or one that would
require an attendant to pay him.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 184

Gray nodded his head. "Yeah, you’d better go pick

his ass up. Wait until he goes to cash out, then ask him
to come up here. Be firm, but polite. We don’t know for
sure that’s he’s cheating...yet."

"You got it, Boss."
Gray turned his attention back to the monitor. The

man who'd won the jackpot was walking slowly down
the next row of slot machines. Gray’s mind filled with
questions. What was this guy thinking? Any pro would
know our suspicions would be aroused by the same
person hitting so many jackpots in so short a time. Plus,
manipulating electronic slots isn’t child’s play. We’re
talking serious technology here, expensive and hard to
come by. Is he working for somebody? If so, who?

The man stiffened, his head turning slightly to the

left. Gray saw a couple of security men standing by the
far left wall. The man suddenly spun around and hurried
toward the cashiers’ cages.

Marc swore and put out the call to the security men

on the floor, ordering them to detain the man at the cage
until he could get there. He ran from the office, leaving
Gray in front of the monitors.

Gray rubbed his temples, again wishing his headache

would subside. He had enough on his plate right now,
what with the Pack Council breathing down his neck
constantly about the revenues, dealing with the State
Gaming Commission, getting the air conditioning
system fixed before the cool weather broke, and figuring
out what the mysterious black fungus was that had
appeared on the brand new carpeting in the high roller
baccarat pit and stank like old cabbage. He didn’t need
any more grief.

But more was exactly what he got when Marc

ushered the dark-haired player into the Security Office.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 185

“Get in there and sit down,” Marc snarled. Gray

could see the hair on Marc’s arms standing straight up,
and thought he caught a glimpse of an elongated incisor
when Marc spoke. Not that Gray could blame him. Marc
had been head of security for the casino for years, and it
was a blow to his ego that he couldn’t figure out how the
man was manipulating the slots, or if indeed, he was
cheating at all and not just the owner of a streak of
extraordinary good luck. Even though Gray had ordered
Marc to be polite, he could tell the incident was taking
its toll and stretching Marc’s patience paper thin.

Still, Marc was close to losing control and shifting.

That wouldn’t do, not at all, not in front of a stranger.
Gray needed to seize control of the situation and
separate Marc from it, and quickly.

Marc loomed over the suspect. “This is Mr. Silver

Moon, the casino manager. He has a few questions for
you.” The tone in Marc’s voice left no doubt that he
fully expected the man to cooperate...or else.

“Thank you, Marc. Take your men downstairs and

patrol the floor. Be conspicuous. I want our presence
known down there for a while,” Gray said, working to
keep his voice steady and even despite his headache.

“But, Boss," Marc protested, scowling at him. “We

need to--"

“Now, Marc. Thank you.” Their eyes locked for a

moment, but Gray easily won the silent battle of wills.
One of the perks of being the boss was having your
orders followed, however unwillingly. Holding a far
higher place than Marc in the Pack hierarchy didn’t hurt,
either. It was one of the few times Gray was glad to be a
son of the Pack Leader. Usually, his birthright was just a
pain in the ass, but at times like this, it came in handy.

Marc left after throwing the player a black look, and

slammed the door closed behind him. The noise caused

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 186

the pain in Gray’s head to spike. I swear, brother-in-law
or not, Marc is going to be a pelt tacked up on the wall
in the gift shop by the end of the day if he doesn’t knock
off the crap, he thought. He spent a few moments
controlling his pain, silently observing the suspect.

The first thing Gray noticed was that the man was

frightened. The smell of fear clung to him like a cloak.
The second was that he’d obviously been down on his
luck for a while.

The man was overly lean. The sharp angles of his

face and deeply hollowed cheeks spoke of hunger. Dark
smudges under his eyes indicated many hard, sleepless
nights. His clothes were worn, although clean.

How could a man who was obviously in need of

basic comforts come by the expensive technology
required to manipulate electronic slot machines?

“What’s your name, and who are you working for?”

Gray asked, getting right to the point.

The man turned his eyes up at Gray. They were

crystal blue, and for all that they were weary, were
striking against his tanned skin. “My name is Walker
Doe.”

“Doe, huh?” Gray smirked. “Not very original.”
“Maybe, but it’s what’s on my birth certificate. I was

a foundling at St. Andrew’s Children’s Home.” He
fished out a driver’s license and passed it to Gray.

Gray glanced at the license, picked up a pen and

paper and began writing. “Who are you working for,
Walker? I know what you’ve been doing, and I know
someone had to put you up to it, supply you with the
technology. You might as well tell me. I’ll find out
sooner or later.”

Walker turned his head away, staring at the one-way

mirror in silence. His expression was even more strained
than when he’d been brought in.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 187

Stubborn, or just scared out of his wits? Gray

wondered, watching him. Both, he decided. “Okay, let’s
start with this question, then: how? How did you
manage to manipulate my machines? They’re all
equipped with erasable programmable read-only
memory,” he said. “The EPROM is supposed to render
the machine nearly impervious to fraud. How did you do
it? Microwaves?”

Walker shook his head. “No. You can search me.

You won’t find any kind of device on me.”

“Oh, we’ll take a look, but it would go much easier

on you if you’d cooperate and tell me what I want to
know up front.”

A thought occurred to Gray. Could this Walker guy

be working with somebody on the inside? It was almost
inconceivable that a Pack member would betray the
casino, but if history taught him anything, it was that
money could tempt even the most virtuous man. Maybe
Walker was a programming genius who’d been given
access to his casino’s software. “Did you program
certain machines to pay out? Who got you into the vault
to do it?”

Walker grunted with a deprecating smile. “My formal

education ended after high school, when the State
emancipated me. I’m barely computer literate. I can
Google, and I can use Facebook. That’s about it.”

Gray blew out a breath in frustration. Walker’s scent

told him the man was being truthful. “Then how?”

“You wouldn’t believe me, even if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“I can’t.”
Gray staunched the growl that rumbled in his chest.

His questions were getting him nowhere, and his
headache was still pounding. It was time to use a
different tack. “Okay, look. I’ll make you a deal. You

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 188

tell me how you did it, the name of who you’re working
for, and turn over the receipts in your pocket -- they
won’t do you a spit wad of good now, anyway -- and I
won’t press charges against you. You can walk out of
here a free man. You’ll be blacklisted, of course. You
won’t ever be allowed back inside my casino, but you
won’t go to prison. How about it?”

Walker snorted softly. “Jail is the least of my worries.

If I talk, I’m dead. Period. Hell, I’m probably dead
anyway.”

“I can protect you.” Gray blinked at his own

generosity. He wasn’t seriously offering Pack protection
to a guy who just ripped them off, was he? Still, there
was no faking the fear in Walker’s scent or the fatalistic
look in his eyes. Gray was suddenly certain Walker
wasn’t there by his own volition. Somebody had forced
him into doing it, probably by threatening his life.
He took a minute to digest his thoughts, to think things
through. He didn’t want to call the police on Walker, at
least not yet. Something in his scent told Gray that
Walker’s fear wasn’t of Gray, but of someone or
something else.

Walker was down on his luck, but even that couldn’t

camouflage the fact that he was a handsome man. A
hottie, as his sister Ana would say. His eyes were
mesmerizing, so different from Gray’s own golden
brown ones. They were like clear mountain lakes that
reflected the very fibers of Walker’s soul.

He grunted at his own foolishness. Maybe his

headache was eating away at his brain.

For a moment when Walker looked at him, Gray

could swear he saw a glimpse of heat in Walker’s eyes,
the kind of fire that came from somewhere south of the
bellybutton. Well, now, Gray thought, where did that

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 189

come from? He almost smiled, feeling his body react to
Walker’s brief, unspoken invitation.

Then Gray blinked and shook his head, and the

moment was gone...or maybe Gray had only imagined it.

“Nobody can protect me from these guys. You’d only

get hurt,” Walker murmured.

Gray laughed softly. “You don’t know me. You don’t

know my people.”

He was taken aback when Walker gave him a chill

look. “Oh, I know what you are. And I have news for
you -- there are bigger and badder things than you in this
town.”

Suddenly, the entire incident took on a more ominous

meaning. Walker couldn’t be saying that he knew about
the Pack...could he? It was unthinkable. Nothing was
more closely guarded than the secret of the
shapeshifters, not even the casino’s vault! More than
ever, he had to find out what Walker knew.

Gray got up and went to the door, locking it. Now

was not the time for Marc to burst in, or any of the other
security personnel. He stared hard at Walker and let his
voice drop into a deep growl. “Tell me what I want to
know, or you don’t leave here. Ever.”

It was a hollow threat, since Gray would never

condone killing a human. It would only make things
much, much worse if the authorities got wind of the
murder, even if he could convince himself to do it. The
police would be crawling over his casino and his Pack
like ants in a sugar bowl. But Walker couldn’t know
that. Obviously, the people who’d sent Walker into the
Glitter Palms had no such compunctions, and Gray was
not above using threats and theatrics to get what he
wanted. Not if it meant keeping the Pack safe. He even
let his canines drop down. There, he thought, watching
Walker’s wan face pale even more. Fear the wolf.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 190

“I guess I’m dead either way, huh?” Walker asked in

a small, shaky voice.

“Tell me what I want to know, and you live.” Jeez,

maybe Gray should’ve become an actor instead of a
casino manager. He sounded frightening, even to
himself. His head continued to pound, shooting daggers
of pain into his eyes, and he growled, hoping it sounded
fierce and not more like a whimper.

Walker seemed to come to a decision, although Gray

could tell his confession was costing him in terms of
terror. The more he spoke, the more frightened he got.
The stench of fear was almost overpowering.

“They call themselves the ‘Ultimate Predators,’ and

they’re based out of Miami. They’re like you,
shapeshifters,” Walker said. That he was completely
miserable at having to spill his guts was evident. His
facial muscles pulled tight; Gray could see thin, blue
veins pulsing in his forehead, and he was beginning to
tremble. “I only met with three of them, but I think they
have other members, although I don’t know how many.”

Ultimate Predators? Gray had never heard of them

before, and he thought he knew every Pack within the
state. “I know of no wolves who call themselves that.”

Walker barked a short, sardonic laugh. “Oh, they’re

not wolves. Wolves would be cuddly puppies next to
these guys. And they know all about you. Their leader is
a gator who calls himself, ‘Chomp.’ His breath smells
like death, hot and rotten.” A shiver raced visibly across
Walker’s shoulders. “He has two others with him, a
hyena and a vulture.”

Non-lupine shifters? It was possible, Gray supposed.

He’d heard rumors of such creatures and of other ones
even more strange. Hadn’t there been a report of
somebody seeing dinosaurs in the Everglades a while
back? He’d discounted it as hogwash when he’d heard

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 191

it, but now... He filed the information away in his
orderly brain to be thought about later. First things first.
“You’re human. I can smell it. How did you get mixed
up with these shifters?”

Walker sighed, and his face reddened. “I’ve been

having a real streak of bad luck lately. I lost my job
when my employer closed, and couldn’t find another
one. My unemployment insurance ran out. I lost my
apartment, my car... I went to Miami in hopes of starting
over, but I made a mistake. I was desperate; hungry...I
walked up to an ATM and tried to get a few dollars to
buy a sandwich. One of the Predators happened to be
standing nearby and caught on to what I was doing. He
followed me and hit me over the head with something.
Next thing I knew, I was in a small warehouse out on
the wharfs.”

“And then...?”
Walker paused, looking away, frowning as if deep in

thought. Then he stood, rolling up the sleeves of his
shirt, and stuck his arms out toward Gray. The skin on
his arms was marred by deep bite marks -- lots of them.
They were fairly fresh, barely scabbed over. He stood up
and lifted his shirt, showing Gray the same marks on his
belly and chest. There were still more on his back.
“They tortured me until I agreed to do what they wanted.
This casino was only a trial run. ‘Only take small
jackpots,’ they said. I think they just wanted to see if I
could do it. They’re aiming for Vegas, next, and the
really big money.”

Gray winced and swallowed hard at the sight of the

lurid bite marks. He forced himself to think about the
questioning and not the pain Walker must have suffered
through, but it was difficult. “You said you were trying
to get money out of an ATM. How?”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 192

“I have this...gift. It’s more of a curse, really. It’s

never brought me anything but trouble. I can manipulate
machines with my mind. I think it’s a form of
telekinesis. I’ve always had it, for as long as I can
remember. The nuns at the Home thought I was
possessed. I could change the television channel from
across the room without the remote.” Walker became
agitated, pacing, and wringing his hands. “I wasn’t
going to take more than a couple of dollars from that
ATM, honest, and only because I was at the end of my
rope. I was even going to pay it back when I got a job! I
didn’t want to come in here. I swear it!”

“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Gray sniffed and could

smell the truth sweetening the sharp tang of fear in
Walker’s scent. Whatever power Walker had, it was
real, but Gray didn’t have the time to consider the
ramifications. He’d figure out what to do with Walker
later. He gestured toward the chair. “Sit down, Walker. I
believe you, and I promise you, nobody here will hurt
you. We’re not like these Ultimate Predators. We don’t
torture people.”

Walker looked doubtful. “You threatened to kill me.

Well, not in so many words, but I knew what you
meant.”

“I know. I’m sorry for that, but I had no idea of what

you’d been through. All I knew was that you came into
my casino and were ripping us off. I thought you were
working for one of my competitors.”

“I’d be better off if you did kill me. At least it would

be quick. They’ll drag it out for the fun of it. They’re
here, you know, the Predators. Outside. Waiting for me.
If I don’t come out soon, they’re going to know I was
caught. I don’t know how many of them are there,
either. It might only be the three I spoke with, but it
might be the entire Pack. If they decide to come in here

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 193

after me, they’ll rip this place to pieces along with
everyone inside it, including me.”

The news hit Gray like a splash of icy water, instantly

making his headache spiral into agony. He hadn’t
considered that they would’ve followed Walker to the
casino. No way was he letting these Predators inside his
casino or near his Pack. “Nobody’s getting killed
today.” He pressed the button on his radio. “Marc? Code
Zero. Repeat, Code Zero.” It was a code he’d rarely had
to use before. It meant the casino was to be shut down
immediately, emptied, and locked.

“Boss? You need help up there?”
“No. Just get the casino in lockdown. I’ll explain

later.” He picked up the telephone and dialed a number.
“Father? Get the Pack inside and keep them there. Put
guards on all the entrances. We have enemies.” He
listened for a minute. “I’ll explain everything later. I’ve
got to see to the casino before I come home.” He hung
up and turned again to Walker. “You are now officially
a guest of the Silver Moon Pack. My father is the alpha
wolf, the Leader. As his son and his named successor, I
have the right to offer you our protection. But listen
carefully...if it turns out that you’re lying, or if you
betray us to our enemies, all bets are off. Pardon the
pun, but I’ll throw your ass to the wolves.”

“I’m not lying. I didn’t want to help them. I just

wanted to get my life back on track.” He eyed Gray,
then stood up and walked over. “Look, I’m taking a real
chance here, but I owe you. This is something the
Predators never learned about me, even after they
tortured me. Something tells me you’re not like them,
and I want to prove to you that I can be trusted.
Telekinesis isn’t my only gift.” He slowly lifted his
arms, placed his fingers gently on either side of Gray’s

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 194

face, and closed his eyes. “You’re in pain. I felt it the
minute I walked in the room.”

Like a drop of water drizzled onto a hot skillet,

Gray’s pain instantly disintegrated. One moment he’d
had one of the worst migraines of his life, the kind that
made him sick to his stomach, and the next, he was fine.
“You’re a healer!” Gray whispered, amazed at how
swiftly the pain was gone. “Why didn’t you just heal
yourself?”

“I can’t. It doesn’t work on me. Ironic, huh?”
Gray gave a quick nod. Magic was a fickle bitch. He

knew that better than anyone. It was magic’s
inconsistent nature that had left Gray next in line for
Leader, a job he didn’t want. His older brother, Matt,
who should have been their father’s successor, had been
born with a disability -- he was fully human, a non-
shifter, and as such, could never lead the Pack. Matt had
accepted his place without complaint, which was more
than Gray could say for himself. “Okay, then. Our
healers will look after your wounds, but I need to make
sure the casino is locked up tight before we leave for the
Pack grounds.” He glanced out the two-way mirror. The
machines were dark; play had halted at all the tables. His
people were already herding players toward the exits. Pit
bosses and security personnel were picking up the chips
from the tables, and the cashiers were counting out their
tills in the cages.

“They’re going to know something is wrong,”

Walker said. “They’re watching the casino. Seeing all
these people leaving and the casino shutting
down...they’re going to know I got caught.” His voice
was paper thin with rising panic.

Gray put a gentling hand on his shoulder. “They can’t

get in. Look...my men have the doors locked already.
You’re safe.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 195

“What about when we leave to go to these Pack

grounds you keep talking about?”

Gray laughed. “This casino sits on Pack grounds.

There’s a tunnel that connects the condominium
building where the Pack lives with the casino. Come on.
It’s not far.”

They met Marc on the way to the elevator. “You

want me to cuff him?” He had what passed for
handcuffs for the casino security personnel in his hand --
a pair of heavy duty electrical ties.

“No. There are extenuating circumstances about this

case. He’s not guilty. He’s not our prisoner, Marc. He’s
our guest,” Gray said. He ignored the shock and
disbelief on Marc’s face. “I’m taking him to my father.”

“You’re bringing him to Chief Silver Moon? Why?”

Marc asked.

Gray lifted an eyebrow. It was not Marc’s place to

question his boss and future Leader, but it only showed
the level of Marc’s anxiety. It hadn’t been an easy night
for Marc, after all. First suspecting Walker of
manipulating the machines (he’d been absolutely right
on that count, Gray conceded), then being shut out of the
questioning, and then ordered to put the casino on
lockdown...it was taking its toll on him. Gray opted for
compassion. “I’ll fill you in on the way. Come on.”

***

The Pack was agitated, milling around the entrance to

the condominium building. They knew something
momentous was happening. Only dire circumstances
would warrant the casino closing. The only other times
it had been shut down were when a powerful hurricane
was bearing down on the Florida coast and on 9/11. At
the moment, the weather was clear, with no storms

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 196

predicted. Was the country under attack again? Fear was
thick in the air, adding to their unease.

Gray needed to calm them. He climbed up on a chair

and howled for their attention. “My brothers and sisters,
all is well. We have received information that a rival
Pack tried to infiltrate the casino and cheat us of our
money. It has been dealt with, but we closed the casino
to avoid further confrontation with this Pack until we
have had time to discuss the situation with Chief Silver
Moon. On his orders, the casino will reopen.”

The crowd chattered excitedly over the news, but

their stress had been relieved. A rival Pack could be
dealt with easily. Everyone knew that the Silver Moon
Pack was the largest and strongest in the area. They
assumed Gray meant a Pack of wolves, and were more
curious over which Pack would be stupid enough to
challenge them than afraid. He saw the Pack warriors
separate from the rest, no doubt already beginning to
discuss strategies. Gray hopped down and signaled for
Marc and Walker to follow him.

They found Chief Silver Moon in the War Room,

surrounded by his Council of advisors, all elders of the
Pack. The room was thusly named because it was where
the Chief and his advisors planned for the Pack’s
survival and dealt with threats, be they shifter, human,
or weather-related, and oversaw the Pack’s financial
empire, including the casino.

Gray led Marc and Walker to his father’s side. Gray

and Marc touched their fists to their hearts in salute.
“Father, this is Walker Doe. He is a friend of the Pack.”

Chief Silver Moon was a man just past the prime of

his life. His face was an older version of Gray’s, still
handsome despite the deep wrinkles around his eyes and
mouth that time had carved into his skin. His long, dark
hair was shot through with silver, and his

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 197

responsibilities rested easily on his broad, if slightly
stooped, shoulders. He nodded at Walker. To his credit,
he didn’t question his son’s proclamation. “Welcome,
friend.”

“T-thank you,” Walker whispered. He looked to

Gray, who gave him a reassuring smile.

Gray told Walker’s story succinctly. He knew his

father trusted his judgment; if he hadn’t been so trusted,
Gray never would have been allowed to manage the
casino, or named as the Leader-to-follow. He had
Walker show the wounds on his arms, stomach, and
back to the others. “Walker is also a healer, although he
can’t heal his own hurts. He gifted me with his magic
and cured a nasty migraine for me.”

Healing magic was rare. Few wolves claimed the

power to heal, although many were versed in the ways
of herbal remedies, and some had even gone to human
schools to become doctors. The Silver Moon Pack
boasted several herbalists and had two members
working as interns at a local hospital, but no permanent
doctor or healer. Walker’s talent made the proper
impression on the elders.

Chief Silver Moon and the elders debated at length,

speaking in the language of the wolves. Soft yips and
barks, punctuated by a howl or two, filled the air.
Finally, they seemed to reach a decision. “Gray Silver
Moon, I charge you with this mission. Meet with those
who call themselves the Ultimate Predators and
negotiate peace between our Packs, if possible. We will
go to war only if there is no other way to resolve this
matter.”

Walker shook his head. “The Predators won’t listen

to reason! They want money. It’s all they care about,
and they’ll stop at nothing to get it!”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 198

“We will not pay those who try to blackmail us or

steal from us,” Chief Silver Moon said, his face hard.
“But neither will we draw first blood in a war that may
yet be avoided.” He gestured toward Gray. “Go. Take
this one with you, since he knows them and their ways.
Return when you have learned these Predators’
intentions.”

“Father, I do not wish to take him. He has been hurt

enough at these Predator’s hands,” Gray said. He
grabbed Walker’s elbow, trying to will Walker to be
silent. It worked, although he could feel Walker’s
muscles tremble under his fingers. “He has suffered
enough.”

Chief Silver Moon nodded. “So be it. Leave him with

the healers.” It was obviously Chief Silver Moon’s last
word, because he turned his back to them and began to
talk to the elders again in the language of the wolves.

Gray led Walker and Marc out of the War Room.

“Marc, take Walker to the healers’ quarters, then go take
a position to defend the doors.”

“No!” Marc and Walker shouted at the same time.

“I’m going with you,” Marc said firmly, matched by
Walker’s cry of, “You can’t go. They’ll kill you!”

“You heard the Leader. I have to go,” Gray retorted.

“But I won’t put anyone else in danger. Marc, you’re
staying here. Walker, I’ll be fine.”

“Sorry, boss. I’m head of your security force. My

place is with you on this. I can take your back. I’m
going.” Marc’s eyes were steely. Gray sighed. Taking
Marc along was probably a good idea, especially if it
came down to a fight. Gray was good, but wouldn’t last
long against an entire Pack. He nodded his assent. “Then
take Walker to the healers. I’ll meet you at the tunnel
entrance.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 199

“Listen to me, Gray. You won’t even know where to

look for them. You haven’t smelled them, and I know
wolves need a scent to track,” Walker said. “They were
very careful about leaving no trace of them on me before
sending me into the casino.” He seemed to stand
straighter. “You’re the first person in a long, long time
that’s been kind to me. Even though I was robbing you,
you understood why and forgave me, even offered to
help me. I’m going with you. They’ll scent me and come
running to find out what happened in the casino.”

“You’re a human! They’ve hurt you enough,” Gray

growled.

“Friend or not, your Pack won’t let me stay in here

forever, especially if you fail. Then the Predators will
get me anyway. I’m tired of being afraid, and I’m tired
of taking their shit. This is my chance at a little payback.
If nothing else, I can draw them into the open for you.
Besides, I saw all those kids you have in here. I can’t
even fathom what the Predators would do to them if you
get...if you don’t return. I’m coming.” Walker’s face
was set in grim determination. “If you don’t take me
with you, I’ll leave anyway and try to follow you.”

“You’re being stupid!”
“No, I’m being stubborn. There’s a difference.”
“No,” Marc put in, patting Walker’s shoulder with a

wry smile. “He’s being a wolf, putting the Pack before
himself. I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you,” he
said to Walker. “Not too shabby... for a human.”

Walker’s face reddened, but a smile played at his

lips. Gray again thought that, even though he was
seriously underfed, Walker was a handsome man. His
body realized it, too, hardening despite the seriousness
of their situation. It took a little doing to get his libido
under control again. “Alright, alright. You can both
come. But I don’t want any heroes, understand? We’re

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 200

going to talk to the Predators. If the shit hits the fan,” he
continued, pointing to Marc,” you run back here for
reinforcements. And you,” he said, pointing at Walker,
“just run! Understand?”

Both men nodded.
Gray rolled his eyes and hoped the Predators would

listen to reason and that things wouldn’t turn violent, but
something deep in his gut warned him they were
walking into a bear’s den smeared head to foot in honey.
He prayed all three of them would live to see morning.

A gator, a hyena, a vulture, and the gods knew what

else waited for them somewhere outside the casino. He
fought back a shiver that threatened to become a full-on
shudder. He needed a few minutes to regroup, to collect
his thoughts and relax before going to meet these so-
called Ultimate Predators.

Without really thinking why, he motioned for Walker

to follow him.

***

Gray’s apartment was one of the smallest in the

building, located on the lowest floor. Although his status
as Next-Leader warranted one of the larger, more
expansive units on the upper floors, he was content with
what he had. Being a bachelor, he didn’t need much
room, and since he spent most of his waking hours in the
casino, he certainly didn’t need a view.

He motioned for Walker to take a seat on the sofa.

“Might as well make yourself comfortable. We’re
waiting for sunset before we go out. Darkness may be to
our advantage, since we have excellent night vision.” He
motioned to the small bar set against the wall. “Can I get
you a drink?”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 201

Walker nodded. Gray thought he looked like he could

do better with a meal than booze. Gray trotted to the
fridge and pulled out a few packets of cold cuts and a
loaf of bread. He shuffled a couple of sandwiches
together and brought them to Gray, who gave him a
grateful look. Then he poured them both a generous shot
of Patrón and handed one to Walker. With one quick
movement, Gray tossed his back, relishing the slow burn
of the liquor as it slid down his gullet.

“Why would your father only send you and Marc out to
face them by yourselves?” Walker wondered.

It was a logical question, Gray supposed. “He is

following the Order of the Wolf. All Packs in this area
adhere to the same rules of warfare. When a challenge is
made, a small party of high-ranking wolves is sent out to
negotiate terms. Until first blood is drawn, no war is
recognized.”

“I don’t think the Predators have ever read these

rules,” Walker said. He fell silent as he went to work on
the sandwich. Evidently, his hunger won out over his
need to converse.
Gray watched Walker eat. There was something erotic
about watching a man eat, and the knife-edge of
Walker’s hunger seemed to make the sight even more
so. Gray’s body, already strung tight by the events of the
day, hardened again. His wolf howled, wanting, needing
sex to relieve some of the tension.

Would Walker be amenable to an advance by Gray?

He hadn’t picked up any signals that might indicate
Walker was ready for sex, or that Gray would be his
particular cup of tea, but, he rationalized, he also hadn’t
picked up on any that said the opposite, either.

In fact, hadn’t there been a few moments in the

Crow’s Nest when Walker seemed to eye Gray with

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 202

more than just frightened, weary eyes? Hadn’t there
been a quick flash of something warmer, something
lusty in Walker’s crystal blue gaze?

Yes, there was, he thought. I know I didn’t imagine it.

He took a seat next to Walker on the sofa, sitting close
enough for their thighs to touch, and smiled inwardly
when Walker didn’t make an effort to move away.

You don’t have long, Gray thought. A few minutes, no

more. You can’t put off going out there to find the
Predators and end this nonsense. He eyed Walker’s lean
body, letting his gaze skip over Walker’s square jaw,
wide shoulders, and narrow hips. Gray watched Walker
lift the shot glass of Patrón and tip it to his mouth. Gray
barely resisted the urge to lick his own lips as the liquor
slid past Walker’s.

Nice lips, almost too full, he thought. Kissable, soft.

He pictured them wrapped around his cock, and a small
moan escaped him.

Walker heard and gave him a questioning look. It

was now or never, Gray realized. Time was running out.
He decided to be honest and direct, since he didn’t have
time for a proper seduction. “I’m pretty tense. I feel like
my whole body is strung as tight as a bass fiddle. I can
really use a little release.”

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t managed to be as direct as

he’d intended, but he saw understanding glimmer in
Walker’s eyes. He knows what I’m asking. Damn, he’s
hot, even when he’s blushing, Gray thought.

Walker grimaced as he tossed back the remainder of

his tequila, but when he turned back to Gray, there was
definite interest in his gaze. “Do we have time...?

Gray grinned, feeling relieved and excited at the

same time. “Honey, I doubt that being quick is a
problem I’m going to have today.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 203

Walker returned his smile. It was hesitant at first, but

then it was there in all its glory, full of smoke and heat
and want. Gray didn’t waste another moment. He took
Walker’s face between his hands and hungrily tasted the
lips he’d been admiring.

Their kiss swiftly grew punishing as their respective

needs ratcheted up several notches. Hands began to
explore, clothing was unbuttoned and unzipped. The
smell of their arousals rose between them. Gray’s
sensitive nose filled with it; the scent seemed to suffuse
his entire body. He backed away for a moment, afraid
he’d come without Walker even touching him. As he
struggled for control, he gazed at Walker’s exposed
body.

Just as Gray had suspected, Walker was in need of

nourishment. His bones poked against his skin, making
him appear fragile, and Gray couldn’t help but see the
brutal marks left on Walker’s skin by the Predators.
Suddenly, Gray wanted to slow down, to take it easy
with Walker, to be gentle with him, and damned himself
silently for not being able to. His body was too keyed
up, too hard, too needful. Waiting now was impossible.
His wolf strained beneath his skin, howling to rut. He
wrapped his fingers around Walker’s cock, groaning at
the burn of flesh against his palm.

“Oh, yeah,” Walker breathed against Gray’s lips.

“Like that. Just like that.”

Gray gasped when Walker returned the favor by

fisting Gray’s cock with bold, sure strokes. “Fuck!
More. I want more.”

“I got more. I got all you want,” Walker replied, his

voice husky with need.

Gray realized he’d worried for nothing -- Walker was

no amateur at sex. He knew his way around a man’s
body, knew where to touch and how to stroke. Then the

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 204

thought was gone as Gray’s body began its slow,
euphoric journey to climax. His lips left Walker’s sweet
mouth and reached for Walker's shoulder, jaws open to
bite, but he stopped himself just in time. No way could
he allow himself even a love bite, not after what Walker
had been through. But he wanted to. Oh, yeah, he
wanted to badly. Bite him, taste him, mark him as the
sole property of one alpha wolf by the name of Gray
Silver Moon. He contented himself with licking a long,
slow path over Walker’s shoulder and neck and nipping
gently at Walker’s ear lobe. He suckled the soft flesh of
Walker’s ear and whispered, “Come for me. I want to
see it. I want to smell it, feel you come in my hand.”

Walker grunted, threw his head back, and came. The

hot smell of sex wafted up, spurring Gray on. His
breathing grew ragged; his hips pumped against
Walker’s hand before his entire body went rigid as his
climax shot through him, diamond hard. He pulled away
from Walker’s fingers and stroked himself to the end,
painting Walker’s bare belly with his come.

“Shit. Made a mess,” he said, when he finally caught

enough breath to speak. He chuckled, reaching for his
shirt to wipe his hands off and then swiping it across the
white drips on Walker’s belly. “That hurts, huh?” he
said, when Walker winced. “I’m sorry.”

“That was totally worth a little discomfort,” Walker

answered with soft smile. “So very, very worth it.”

Gray sighed, and sat back against the sofa, tossing his

soiled shirt on to the coffee table. “It was a great
distraction, but we have to get back to business. It’s
almost dark out.” He looked at Walker. “Are you sure
you’re ready for this? You don’t have to come along. I’d
feel better if you were here, where you’d be safe.
There’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to parlay peace

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 205

with these Predators. Things could get bloody out
there.”

Walker returned Gray’s steady gaze with a

determined one of his own. “I’m going with you. End of
discussion. You might be alpha here, but I’m not a
member of your Pack. I don’t follow your orders. I’m
coming.”

Gray’s lips hitched in a smile. If nothing else, he

admired Walker’s grit. “Okay. Let me grab a clean shirt,
and we’ll go do this thing.”

***

Gray and Marc followed Walker at a short distance, far
enough not to be scented with him, but close enough to
rush to his aid if he was attacked. Although the smell of
wolf clung to Walker’s clothing, they were banking on
the Predators thinking it had come from the casino,
where their scent was everywhere.

They didn’t have long to wait.
Only a few blocks from the casino, on a deserted,

dark street, three figures stepped out of an alleyway and
blocked Walker’s path.

“Where’s the money?” a deep, raspy voice asked.

“What happened in there? Did you get caught? How did
you get away?”

Another voice chimed in, this one as thin and high as

a reed. “Did you tell them anything? You’d better not be
trying to fuck us over, Doe, or this time, you’ll be the
main course instead of just an appetizer.”

A rumbling growl rolled from Gray’s lips as he and

Marc moved quickly to stand on either side of Walker.
“I am Gray, of the Silver Moon Pack. Who are you, and
what do you want of us?”

“You fucking traitor!” The second figure, the one

with the high, reedy voice, hissed at Walker. His arm
drew back, and Gray caught a glimpse of dirty, black

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 206

talons. He caught the arm before it could slice through
Walker’s flesh, and twisted it. The figure screeched in
pain and jumped back.

“Touch him again, and you’ll lose your fucking arm,”

Gray snarled. “My Pack will tear you to pieces.” Well,
they would eventually, once Marc brought more
warriors. Of course, he and Walker would most likely be
dead by then, but that wasn’t something Gray thought
merited mentioning.

“Enough!” the first voice commanded. The way the

other two cowered at his bellow told Gray that this one
must their Leader. “We are the Ultimate Predators. We
don’t fear you mangy wolves!”

Gray took a step forward, standing just in front of

Marc and Walker. “Then you are stupid, as well as
ugly.”

Gray didn’t miss the slight step backward the Leader

of the Predators took, even as he bellowed his outrage.
Good. Then they don’t have the rest of their Pack with
them, or he would’ve attacked, Gray reasoned. With any
luck, it was just the three of them, and they’d lied to
Walker about the size of their Pack. In any case, Gray
doubted blood would be shed that day.

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with, dog!” the

Predator Leader hissed. “I am Chomp, Leader of the
Ultimate Predators. You’ll learn your place soon
enough. And you,” he continued, pointing a finger at
Walker, “I’ll be picking my teeth with your bones!” His
eyes flashed yellow, the pupils elongating like a lizard’s.

“Chomp? Sounds like a cartoon character,” Gray said

sarcastically. “And you’re supposed to be the big, bad
gator? I think you’re more like a fucking gecko. Get out
of our territory and don’t come back, or I’ll turn your
hide into a pair of boots.” He knew he was purposely
goading Chomp. He hated these three on sight, not only

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 207

for threatening his Pack, but for torturing Walker. He
was under orders from his father not to draw first blood,
but his father had said nothing about not baiting these
assholes. If Chomp shifted and attacked, Gray was free
to rip the bastards into bite-sized pieces.

“Yeah, and I can use a new wallet. Although I’m not

sure we’d ever be able to get the smell out,” Marc added
with a menacing grin, and Gray could’ve kissed him for
catching on so quickly.

Chomp’s face began to shift, muscles bulging and

receding under his skin. His mouth and nose began to
elongate and flatten; his teeth grew dagger-like. For a
moment, he was caught between human and alligator,
and Gray winced. Ugly sumbitch, he thought. Not even a
Mama could love that face. Gray reached for Walker’s
hand and gave it a squeeze. “Go,” he whispered. “Run.”
He nodded at Marc, the signal that Marc should return to
retrieve the rest of the Pack.

He felt Walker back away, and felt immeasurably

relieved but irritated that Marc didn’t move from his
side. Still, it was only the three Predators. Surely two
wolves in their prime could take out a vulture, a hyena,
and the gator!

He returned his attention to Chomp, who was still

stuck mid-shift. Chomp obviously knew he wouldn’t
escape a confrontation with two large wolves unscathed
and was uncertain if he could take them at all. Chomp’s
indecision was keeping him from completing his
change.

Just like a bully, Gray thought. All bark and no bite

when it came to somebody his own size.

A few moments later, he had cause to eat his own

words as figures began to emerge from the shadows on
either side of the street -- dozens of them.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 208

He’d been wrong. The Ultimate Predators did have

more than three members, and it looked as if Chomp had
brought them all to the party.

Gray howled as he realized he’d been played for an

arrogant fool. First, Walker had been nothing but a
diversion, a smoke screen. Chomp had no intention of
being satisfied with a few grand from the slot machines.
He wanted to take over the casino and the Pack, and
he’d brought the muscle to do it. Chomp must’ve
expected the entire Pack to turn out to fight and figured
he’d have enough men with him to take them all.

Had Walker been in on it all along? No, it couldn’t

be...Gray had smelled the truth in what Walker had told
him.

Hadn’t he? Or was Walker just so good a fraud that

his lies were undetectable? Was that another of Walker’s
incredible talents? Had he brought viper into the midst
of his Pack? He pushed the thought aside. He didn’t
have time to second guess himself now.

There were too many of them. He and Marc would

never be able to kill them all. His only chance was to
take out Chomp and hope the others would back off
without their Leader to spur them on. With another
howl, he kicked off his shoes, tore off his clothing, and
shifted. He felt more than saw Marc do the same at his
side.

Chomp had finally finished shifting. His gator was

tremendous, at least twelve feet long, three of it gaping
jaws filled with knife-like teeth. His immense, clawed
feet shuffled over the tattered remains of his clothing
that had shredded as he’d changed shape.

Before Chomp could charge him, Gray leapt up and

over his head. Chomp’s horrible jaws snapped shut just
inches from Gray’s rear paws. He landed on Chomp’s

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 209

back and immediately bit the back of Chomp’s head, a
vulnerable point on most animals.

Unfortunately, Chomp was not most animals.
His skin was extremely thick and armored with heavy

scales. Gray’s teeth barely made a scratch in it. Chomp
thrashed underneath him (Gray was shocked at how fast
Chomp moved; he’d thought the gator would be slow
and sluggish on land. Another assumption proved
disastrously wrong), twisting and snapping at him. Gray
barely jumped out of the way in time.

His attention was centered on his fight with Chomp,

but he could see Marc battling a vulture and a hyena.
The hyena seemed to be trying to keep Marc focused on
it while the vulture dive-bombed Marc from the air. Its
cruel beak scored deeply into Marc’s flesh several times.
Marc’s cry of pain seared Gray, instantly bringing to
mind his sister, Ana, and her young, who would be left
without a mate and father to provide for them if Marc
died. He leapt away from Chomp and caught the
vulture’s skinny neck midair, snapping it easily. Tossing
the bird-shifter to one side, he returned to his fight with
Chomp.

Gray was nothing if not fast. The entire maneuver

took less than a few seconds. Chomp barely had time to
register what was happening before Gray spit out the
remains of Chomp’s lieutenant at his feet. Chomp
bellowed in anger, rage flaming in his eyes.

Facing off against the gator, Gray planted his front

paws, keeping his body low, ready to move in any
direction necessary. His hair bristled as he snarled,
showing his teeth. Come on, you scaly bastard. Let’s
end this!

Gray wasn’t stupid. He knew when he was

outmatched. This would be his last fight. He felt it in his
gut as he stared into the gaping jaws of the gator and

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smelled the charnel breath Walker had spoken of. Gray
had scored the first kill, and smell of blood and death
was thick in the air, agitating the rest of the Predators.
Their howls and growls filled the air. He knew he and
Marc would probably not escape this fight alive, but
he’d be damned if he wouldn’t take Chomp down with
them.

Suddenly, Gray heard a sound coming from behind

them. It quickly grew louder, until he could distinguish
individual voices. Chomp backed up, his massive head
swinging from one side to the other. There was a look of
confusion in his yellow eyes. All of the Predators
seemed to freeze, including the hyena that had been
fighting with Marc.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gray saw Marc take

advantage of the pause and rip out the throat of the
hyena. The hynena collapsed to the ground.

Gray felt his Pack surge up the street to stand behind

him. Nearly forty individuals strong, these were his
warriors, the strongest, fastest, most fierce wolves of his
Pack. At a slight nod from Gray, they attacked.

He caught Chomp’s charge out of the corner of his

eye, turning just in time to see a mouthful of wicked
teeth coming at him faster than he ever would’ve
imagined.

Suddenly, a silver blur swept across his vision.

Something hard connected with Chomp’s thick skull.
Gray heard a loud crack as a metal pipe smashed against
the side of Chomp’s head. Chomp hit the ground, lying
stunned. Gray blinked and looked to his left. Walker
stood there, panting, holding a piece of pipe in his
hands.

Every unkind thought and suspicion Gray had about

Walker disappeared in that instant, and he felt a strange
surge of warmth flood him, giving him new strength and

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 211

resolve. He stalked toward Chomp, who was beginning
to recover already from the blow, growling fiercely. He
made sure the so-called Ultimate Predators were
watching as he pounced on Chomp, rolled Chomp over,
exposing the shifter's soft underbelly, and ended him.

Gray lifted his bloody muzzle toward the moon

overhead and howled. His song was quickly picked up
by the rest of the Pack and the streets rang with the eerie
notes of wolfsong. He shifted and addressed the few
surviving Predators. “Your Leader is dead. Many of
your Packmates are dead. End this now, leave and never
come back into our territory, or join them!”

It didn’t take much to convince the surviving

Predators to retreat, not now that their Leader and his
lieutenants were destroyed. They ran like rats,
disappearing into the darkness.

Maybe they’d be back someday, but no time soon,

Gray thought. And if they did come back, his Pack
would be ready for them. No one would ever catch the
Silver Moon Pack unawares again. As Next-Leader,
he’d see to it.

Walker had survived the battle without an additional

scratch, Gray was relieved to see, but Marc didn’t fare
nearly so well. He laid where he’d fallen earlier,
bleeding heavily and barely breathing.

Gray knelt next to him, gently petting Marc’s bloody

scruff. From the looks of his wounds, Marc wouldn’t
even survive being moved back to the Pack grounds.
When Marc shivered and shifted back into his human
form, his wounds looked even more horrible without the
thick pelt to hide them.

Gray felt the heavy weight of guilt settle on his

shoulders. It was his fault. He should never have
allowed Marc to come along. What would he tell Ana

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 212

and her children? It was Gray’s responsibility to protect
his Pack, not lead them to their deaths!

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Move away

now, Gray. Let me work.” He looked up into Walker’s
crystal blue eyes.

“Can you? I mean, will it work? He’s hurt so

badly...” None of the healers Gray knew of would be
able to cure wounds as grave as Marc’s.

“All I can do is try,” Walker replied. Gray moved off

to the side as Walker settled down on his knees next to
Marc and placed his hands over two of Marc’s more
serious injuries.

Gray watched in amazement as Walker’s hands

began to glow with a golden light. It spread from
Walker’s fingers over Marc’s body, enveloping it like a
pulsing, gilded aura. The light widened until it
encompassed both Walker and Marc, and Gray lost sight
of them both.

The very air thrummed with the power of Walker’s

gift. Gray heard the other Pack members going about the
business of cleaning up the mess they’d made, removing
the evidence of the battle, including the bodies, and
helping the injured, but he ignored them. His entire
being was focused on the scene playing out before him.

Then, suddenly, the light was gone. To Gray’s

amazement, although he remained unconscious, Marc’s
body didn’t bear a single wound. There wasn’t even a
black and blue left to prove he’d been nearly killed. His
breathing was slow and steady, and his color good.

Gray breathed a sigh of relief and signaled for a

couple of men to carry Marc home. He turned his
attention to Walker, who’d collapsed to the pavement.
Walker smiled at him weakly.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 213

“Did it work?” Walker asked. His voice was no more

than a whisper, as if he didn’t have the strength left to
speak.

“You did good,” Gray said softly. “I think he’s going

to be fine.”

Walker closed his eyes, and Gray spoke to him as he

rested. “You were amazing. You saved my life, too, you
know. You swung that pipe like a major leaguer!”

Weary, crystal blue eyes blinked up at him. “If it

wasn’t for me, nobody would’ve gotten hurt today at all.
I should’ve let them kill me instead of agreeing to help
them.”

“Don’t say that! It’s not your fault, Walker. They

only would’ve come at us another way. It wasn’t the
jackpots they wanted. It was the casino itself and our
land. At least you warned us. We wouldn’t have seen
them coming otherwise.”

Walker slumped back against the pavement. He

looked too tired to breathe, never mind move. Gray
could sense how much healing Marc had taken out of
him. When Walker’s eyes drifted closed again, Gray
gently scooped him up (he didn’t weigh nearly as much
as Gray thought, and he realized Marc was seriously
underfed) and carried him back to the Pack grounds.

***

It took a full two days for Walker to regain his

strength. Gray stayed with him as much as possible,
visiting often throughout the day whenever he could
duck away from the casino. When Gray wasn’t there,
Ana and Marc, who’d been given time off from his job
to make sure he was fully recovered, fussed over
Walker, making sure Walker rested and ate. Gray

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 214

thought he could see Walker’s cheeks filling out a little
already.

When Walker was finally strong enough to move out

of the healer’s rooms, Gray took him aside. “What are
your plans now?” he asked.

“Plans? I...I don’t know. I guess I’ll go back to what I

was doing before -- searching for work,” Walker said.
“Before I go, I wanted to thank you, your father, and
everyone for all they did for me. I wouldn’t have
survived if you hadn’t taken me in.”

“No, you’re the one who needs to be thanked. The

Pack is in your debt. Many of us would be dead if it
weren’t for you. Marc certainly would be, and so would
I. If you’d run away instead of going back and getting
the Pack, and then given Chomp a smack down with that
pipe, there’d be nothing left of me but bits of fur.”

Walker smiled. “You’re welcome. Listen, Gray... I

was wondering if I might stay here for a few days, until
I find a job and someplace to live. I know it’s asking a
lot, but--"

Gray held up his hand. “I’ve already spoken with my

father. You’ve proven yourself a friend to the Pack
several times over, and he’s asked if you would be
interested in staying with us as our healer. Plus, maybe
you can use that other talent of yours, the one that let
you manipulate our machines, to keep things like the air
conditioning system working. We would pay you for
your services, of course.”

Walker’s eyes lit up. His pleasure at the possibility of

using his talents to earn a legitimate living was evident
in his excited smile. “Really? A job? I...thank you, Gray.
Thank you! Now all I have to do is find a room for rent
nearby, and I’ll be set!”

“Uh, about that...as it happens, I know of a room

that’s available.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 215

“You do? Where?”
Gray felt his cheeks heat up. “Well, actually, I was

wondering if you might want to be...well, roommates
with me. You know, until something else opens up.” Or
until you decide you want to stay forever, he added
silently. Maybe it was only the extreme circumstances of
the day that had made the sex they’d shared so potent,
but Gray, for one, doubted it. He felt there was
something more there, something that could develop
between them in time, although he’d never embarrass
himself by saying it out loud.

Walker blinked. “You mean, stay with you? In your

apartment?”

Gray rolled his eyes. “No, in my pocket. Of course I

mean in my apartment! You can have the spare
bedroom.”

Evidently, Walker caught on quick. He gave Gray a

wicked little grin. “Or...maybe I can just stay in your
room, and we can use the spare bedroom for storage.”

Gray returned Walker's grin with a knowing one of

his own. “Storage for what?”

Walker gave a little, nonchalant shrug. “Oh, I don’t

know...rubbers and lube? We’re going to need a lot of
both if I have my way.”

Gray laughed and slung an arm around Walker. “We

are, huh?” He glanced at Walker’s crotch, which showed
the impression of just how excited Walker truly was at
Gray’s offer, and raised an eyebrow. “So, is that a roll of
quarters in your pocket, or are you just as horny as I
am?”

“Let’s just say that I’m fully ready to hit the jackpot,”

Walker retorted. “And I won’t even have to cheat this
time to do it.”

~ END

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 216

Divinity Park

Chapter One

The SUV farted out a thick plume of black smoke,

bucking under Alan's ass like a surly bull as he drove
down the long, lonely stretch of I-75 into northern
Florida. The air-conditioning had given out in
Tennessee, and the further south he drove, the higher the
temperature rose, until he felt as if the SUV’s cab had
turned into an oversized toaster oven. He opened the
windows, but all that did was let in the hot wind.

Everything he owned was crammed into the back of

the older model SUV. Not that he owned a great deal --
just his clothes, books, exercise bike, and miscellaneous
knick-knacks he'd acquired over the past few years, but
it was amazing how much room the junk took up. He'd
barely been able to squeeze it all in.

I should have just dumped it all at the curb and flown

down, he thought, grimacing as the SUV hit an
especially large pothole and he bounced hard enough to
bite his tongue. He'd probably end up throwing most of
it away once he was settled into a new house.

Speaking of which, finding a place to call home was

number one on his list of priorities. He hadn't had time
to find one before he left Michael's apartment.

The fight had been a humdinger, the worst Alan

could remember them ever having, and as usual, it'd
been over nothing, a simple misunderstanding. Alan did
nothing wrong by going out to have a drink after work
with a colleague, but when he'd called home to say he'd
be late, Michael had a conniption fit.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 217

Michael’s jealousy, always a point of contention

between the two of them, roared to life and raged out of
control. He’d threatened to come down to the bar and
drag Alan home -- by the nuts, no less.

Alan resented having to cut his drink short, and

almost didn't. Only the thought of Michael showing up
and causing a scene made him leave and go home. When
he opened the door, Michael was waiting for him in a
full fury, and the fight started.

A vase sailed perilously close to Alan’s head,

smashing against the wall, followed by a steady barrage
of insults and threats by Michael, all of which involved
sharp objects and sensitive parts of Alan's anatomy.

"Get out! I want you out of here, out of my life, and

out of my apartment by the time I get home from work
tomorrow afternoon, or I'll have the cops throw you
out!" Michael screamed. "I never want to see your lying,
cheating ass again!"

Alan tried to be civil, to keep his temper in check, but

it wasn't the first time Michael had threatened him with
eviction over a perceived dalliance. The truth was that
Alan had never cheated on Michael, not once, never
even considered it, but Michael refused to believe him.
In fact, Alan tried -- yet again -- to talk some sense into
Michael.

"Michael, listen to me! I didn't do anything! Greg and

I only stopped to have a drink because it was his last day
on the job. I had to work through his farewell luncheon
and didn’t get to see him all day. I was saying goodbye
to a friend, that's all!"

"Bullshit! You were fucking him! I know you were! I

know that smile, that look you get after you've gotten a
piece of ass! Get out! Take your stuff and leave!"
Michael’s words were punctuated by another piece of
bric-a-brac sailing by uncomfortably close to Alan’s

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 218

head and exploding against the wall behind him in a
shower of porcelain.

Alan finally had enough. He was sick and tired of

coming home worried he'd find Michael on the warpath.
He was especially weary of walking on eggshells in his
own home. Anything could set Michael off, and Alan
never knew what might or might not light his short fuse
-- a letter for Alan with a return address Michael didn't
recognize, a phone call for Alan from a number Michael
didn't know... even a dream of Alan cheating could be
cause for an explosion.

Once upon a time, he’d thought he’d have a future

with Michael. They might not have had a ceremony, but
Alan loved Michael. They shared everything -- their
bills, their bed, even their bank account.

He just hadn’t seen the darker side of Michael’s

personality yet. Once he did, Alan made excuses for
Michael. But when Michael’s behavior devolved into
violence, it became harder and harder to justify.

This was the absolute end. He couldn’t do it

anymore, couldn’t live this way. "Fine! I'll be gone as
soon as I can pack the SUV!" he'd yelled, turning on his
heel and stalking out of the apartment. Of course, by the
time he'd finished stuffing the last of his possessions
into the back of the SUV, Michael was ready to forgive,
assuming, as Michael always did, that Alan would relent
and stay.

Not this time. Ignoring Michael's protests and dire

warnings of unspeakable horrors should Alan leave,
Alan tossed the key to the apartment on the kitchen
table. He left without another word, refusing to be
sucked back into the maelstrom of jealousy and
bitterness that was life with Michael.

He realized that he didn’t want to stay in the same

town as Michael. Hell, he didn’t even want to stay in the

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 219

same state! He needed a clean break, a fresh start
somewhere else.

Alan paused only long enough to call work and quit

his job and gas up the SUV. Maybe he overreacted, but
what was done was done. He wasn't even sure where to
go. A flip of the coin decided it, and he found himself
heading south with no clear destination in mind, wanting
only to put as many miles between himself and Michael
as he could rack up. It didn’t help that Michael had
called Alan’s cell phone no fewer than fifteen times --
not that Alan had picked up. The last thing he wanted
was to listen to another of Michael’s tirades, especially
while trying to drive.

He'd reached Florida and kept right on going,

thinking he might not stop until he hit Miami. South
Beach, with its white sand and flashy nightlife, sounded
like just the ticket.

Another few miles brought him to the central part of

the state, when suddenly the SUV’s engine began to
sputter and hiss. Alan cursed a streak of highly
imaginative expletives, steering the truck off the
highway at the next exit.

There were no gas stations, no restaurants, and no

gaudy tourist traps at the exit. In fact, there was nothing
at all except trees dripping Spanish moss, their roots
choked by weeds, ferns, and kudzu, lining both sides of
a narrow, two-lane highway. Steam began to puff out
from under the hood in billowing, white clouds, but he
pushed the SUV further, not wanting to stop on the side
of the road before finding at least a little shade.

The SUV was old. Since Michael’s car was new,

Alan thought to run the damn thing into the ground
before buying a new one. He didn’t even have Triple A
on it, and anyway, he didn't want to fry to a crisp
waiting for a tow. He figured he’d find some shade, then

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 220

use his cell phone to call information for the number of
the nearest towing service.

A waist-high, arrow-shaped sign at the side of the

road, half-hidden by vegetation, caught his eye.
“Divinity Park” was printed in black, block lettering,
and underneath it, in smaller script, “Population: 57.
Homes for Sale and Rent.” It pointed down a narrow,
dirt drive that cut between a grove of trees whose
branches stretched from one side to the other, forming a
green and gray canopy.

The area certainly wasn’t what Alan had in mind for

a new roosting place, but it was miles better than
spending who knew how long parked on the side of the
road, baking under the bleaching Florida sun. Maybe
they’d do a short term rental for him. He could stay just
long enough to get his SUV fixed and his head in order.
It was worth a shot to try, anyway. If nothing else,
maybe they’d have an air-conditioned office where he
could wait for the tow.

He turned the SUV in, following the dirt road. It went

on for a good half-mile, eventually cutting between two
pastures, both dotted with a few head of cattle, mostly
cows and their calves, until it ended at a tiny guard
shack. A long, wooden barricade extended from the
shack across the road. Alan stopped the SUV, turned off
the engine, rolled down the window, and smiled.

A man sat inside the booth, his belly straining at the

buttons of his blue uniform shirt. He was eighty if he
was a day; what little hair remained on his age-spotted
scalp was wispy and white. His face reminded Alan of a
Shar-Pei, wrinkles upon wrinkles. When he smiled, it
was with a set of loose-fitting dentures. They slipped a
little when he spoke, making Alan think of a set of
wind-up teeth he’d had as a kid. The nametag on the
guard’s shirt read, “Phil.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 221

“Afternoon. Engine trouble?” Phil asked. He had a

southern accent, at least to Alan’s northern ears.

“Um, yeah. It started overheating. I think I may have

sprung a leak a little ways back.”

“Huh. No garages at this exit. No motels, neither.

Best to get right back on the highway. Next exit is only
five miles or so, and the Road Rangers patrol the
highway pretty regular. They’ll fix you up.”

“No, I wanted to stop at the Rental Office.”
A bushy, white eyebrow cocked. “Our Rental Office?

At Divinity Park?”

“Well, yeah. That’s what the sign out on the main

road says, right? That there are rentals?”

Phil nodded, but his expression seemed confused.

“That it does, indeed. You just don’t seem...the type to
want to rent here.” He blinked and shook himself,
opening a small drawer and rifling through it, talking
softly under his breath all the while. He finally pulled
out a dust-covered roll of stickers. “What’s your name,
boy?”

Alan swallowed his resentment at being called “boy,”

telling himself that to a man of Phil’s advanced years,
anyone shy of Social Security retirement probably
seemed like an adolescent. “Alan Morris. One L in Alan,
double R’s in Morris.”

Phil stuck his arm into the window and planted a

nametag sticker on Alan’s chest with one gnarled hand.
“Alrighty then, Mr. Alan Morris with one L and two R’s,
you follow this road straight back. You’ll pass the corral
on the left and the duck pond on the right. The road T’s
back there. Go left. The rental office is right there, next
to the restaurant. You can’t miss it.”

Alan nodded and started the SUV back up. It belched

out an angry puff of white steam. He couldn’t go

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 222

anywhere, though -- the gate remained down, blocking
his path.

Phil’s hand reached into the window again, his bony

old-man fingers digging into Alan’s shoulder. “Now,
listen close, sonny. Stay on the road. Don’t go
wandering off nowhere. Our folks don’t take too kindly
to strangers, understand?”

Alan blinked at Phil, feeling himself nod, but

wondering what sort of people made their home in
Divinity Park. From the way Phil was talking, Alan half
expected to see them sitting in rockers on their front
porches, polishing their shotguns and drinking
moonshine from earthenware jugs.

He put the SUV in gear as Phil raised the security

gate, and drove slowly inside the trailer park. He was
happy to note that there were no gun-polishing, booze-
swilling residents in sight.

Instead, he saw well-tended double-wide trailers

sitting in neat rows, hemmed in by small, emerald green
lawns. Fruit trees seemed to be a staple; almost every
house boasted at least one in the front yard -- lemon,
orange, or grapefruit, their branches bowing under a
bounty of fruit. Palm trees were abundant, too, in all
sizes. Big ones that towered over the roofs of the trailers
-- Alan recognized them as “Queen Anne” palms --
down to miniature ones that would reach no higher than
Alan’s waist.

Although each home boasted a carport, there weren’t

many automobiles that he could see. Lots of golf carts,
though. Just like the fruit trees, almost every home had
one parked in its driveway. Maybe everyone was at
work.

It was quiet here, and peaceful. Pretty, too. Divinity

Park was a huge change from the soaring skyscrapers

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 223

and juggernaut traffic of the city he’d left behind, and
just what he needed, at least for a while.

He passed the corral Phil had mentioned, a

rectangular patch of grass. A few horses grazed within
its fenced perimeters. Directly opposite was the duck
pond. There were no ducks, but several swans glided
gracefully over the mirror-like surface of the water.
They glanced in his direction as his SUV rumbled by.

Following Phil’s instructions, he took a left when the

road T-ed, and spotted what seemed to be the only
building on the property that wasn’t a trailer. It was of
log construction, very quaint in a Little House on the
Prairie sort of way, and a sign hanging over the door
proclaimed it to be the “Honey Pot Grill.” A second sign
hung beneath the first that read, “Divinity is our
Specialty!” It had a wraparound porch, with several
wooden rocking chairs lined up at the railing.

At the far end of the building was a second entrance,

and in the small window there Alan spotted a sign that
read, “Sales and Rentals.” He pulled the SUV into a spot
out front, turned off the motor and hopped out, arching
his back. His legs were grateful for the opportunity to
stretch, and his ass even more so for the chance to
escape the bite of the springs in the driver’s seat.

There was still no sign of the local population. He

couldn’t hear anyone, either -- no voices, no laughter,
not even the canned noise of a television set or radio. He
shrugged and made his way to the door of the Sales and
Rentals Office.

The door was locked, and no one responded to his

knock. He peered into the window and saw that the
office was empty.

Alan shook his head and walked along the porch to

the Honey Pot’s entrance. He stepped inside, breathing a
sigh of relief as the cooler air hit him. He’d been so hot

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 224

for so long that he’d nearly forgotten how wonderful air
conditioning could be.

There were people inside the restaurant -- two elderly

men sitting at a booth and a woman well past that
“certain age” behind the counter. Three sets of eyes
stared at him as if he’d just landed on Earth and
demanded to be brought to their leader.

He addressed the woman behind the counter. “Um,

excuse me, but I was wondering if you knew who I
might speak to about rentals.”

The woman blinked at him as if he had two heads and

both of them stupid, and said nothing.

Alan frowned and looked at the two men. “Rentals?

The office next door? There’s nobody in there.”

The men exchanged a glance. One of them answered,

although he seemed reluctant to do so. “That’d be Jet
Williams you’re looking for, but he’s gone for the day.
Best if you came back tomorrow.”

“I can’t. My SUV won’t even make it back down the

driveway to the highway. Does this Mr. Williams have a
phone?” He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the
men expectantly.

“No. No phone.”
Alan sighed. No phone. The man had to be lying.

Who didn’t have a cell phone these days, or at least a
land line? What did they do for communication in this
park? Send up smoke signals? “I don’t suppose you’d
point me in the direction of his house? I’m really stuck
here.”

The men just shook their heads and returned their

attention to their plates. The waitress busied herself with
something under the counter. They all seemed to be
studiously avoiding looking at him.

Alan didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or scream. He

was dead-tired, irritable, hungry, and probably stunk to

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 225

high heaven. He wanted to rent a trailer, grab something
to eat -- he noticed from the blackboard suspended over
the counter that the Honey Pot’s specials were meatloaf
and fried chicken -- and then sleep for at least twelve
hours straight.

But these people didn’t seem inclined to help him. He

turned back to the waitress, only to find she’d
disappeared, fleeing into the kitchen.

Wonderful. Country hospitality at its best, he thought

bitterly. He was about to give up, go back to the SUV,
resigned to spending the night cramped up in the front
seat, when the door to the Honey Pot opened. He turned
and found himself looking into a pair of the clearest,
most unusual eyes he’d ever seen. They weren’t quite
light brown, nor quite amber, but something in the
middle. If pressed, Alan would’ve described them as
golden.

“Jet, this Yankee here was looking for you. Told him

you was done for the day,” one of the old men said.

Those uniquely colored eyes never left Alan’s.

“Much obliged, Skeeter. Go on back to jawing with
Stew. I’ll take it from here.”

Alan cleared his throat. “Um, my name’s Alan

Morris. I was looking to rent a trailer. Short term, if
possible.” He felt slightly unnerved by the intensity of
Jet’s eyes as they stared unblinkingly at him. They
remind me of predator’s eyes, Alan thought. Like a
hawk’s, or a big cat’s.

Jet’s hair was almost as unusual as his eyes. It was

tawny, for the most part, although it was sprinkled with
dark brown and black. He had a full head of it, wavy and
thick, and the scruff on his jaw was dark. A handsome
man in a rough-hewn sort of way, Jet stood as tall as
Alan and seemed to be about his age. He had a solid
build, not overly muscular, but well-proportioned.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 226

Dressed in a blue chambray, short-sleeved shirt,

faded jeans, and dusty boots, he looked like anyone’s
fantasy country boy. All he was missing was a cowboy
hat and a blade of straw sticking out of the corner of his
mouth.

“Do tell? Well, come on with me. Let’s see what we

can find for you,” Jet said. His voice was easy on the
ears, rich and smooth and thick with a drawl that
virtually screamed deep southern roots. Despite himself,
Alan found Jet’s accent to be as sexy as hell.

Alan heard the waitress, who’d come out of hiding

when Jet came in the restaurant, gasp, and the rattle of
silverware dropping on the countertop, but ignored her.
“Thanks. I was afraid I was going to have to spend the
night in the cab of my SUV.”

Jet flashed him a brilliantly white smile. “Aw, we

can’t have that, now can we? Right this way.”

Alan followed Jet outside and across the porch to the

Sales and Rental Office. Jet produced a key and let them
inside. It was a small office, with no back room. A desk,
a chair, and a filing cabinet were the only furnishings. A
few photographs of double-wide trailers were tacked to
a corkboard behind the desk.

Jet sat behind the desk and rocked the chair back on

two legs, his fingers laced behind his head. Alan
couldn’t help but notice the swell of Jet’s biceps and the
sinewy strength of his forearms. “What brings you to
our neck of the woods, Mr. Morris?”

“Call me Alan, please. I needed a fresh start. This

seems as good a place as any.”

Jet’s expression hardened. “It’s only fair to tell you

that we do background checks on our residents. If it
turns out you’re on the run from the law, you’ll find
yourself a guest of the Polk County penal system before
you have time to memorize your new street address.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 227

A small, bitter smile curled Alan’s lips. “No, it

wasn’t anything illegal. A relationship gone south, that’s
all.”

“Well, in that case, I’m sure we can find something

for you. Anything in particular you were looking for?”

“Not really. I’m not too picky, as long as it isn’t

falling down around my ears. The homes in here seem
really nice. I only need a one or two bedroom, I guess.”

Jet nodded and pulled a photograph from the

corkboard, sliding it across the desk. “Two bedrooms
are the minimum, unless talking about a single-wide,
and we don’t have any singles here. I think I have just
the ticket for you, though. It belonged to old Russ Saber
up to a couple of months ago. He’s gone now, poor
bastard. Alzheimer’s. Barely knew which end spit and
which shit at the end. Helluva way to go, if you ask me.”

“That’s awful.” Alan agreed. He glanced at the photo.

It showed a pale blue, aluminum-sided trailer home with
a screen room attached. Nothing fancy, for certain, but it
looked clean and in reasonably good shape.

“He was crotchety and colorful, a real character

before his mind went. We miss him something fierce.
The home was inherited by his nephew, Jake, but Jake
lives with his family up in Wyoming on a ranch. The
Shifting Sands...ever hear of it?”

Jet’s eyes bore into his, as if searching for an answer

to the question, and Alan had the discomforting feeling
that it wasn’t the one Jet had asked him. He could swear
a look of disappointment crossed Jet’s handsome
features when he answered, “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Well, that’s neither here nor there, I suppose. The

unit is available for rental, and it comes fully furnished,
right down to the kitchenware and linens.”

“Will it be a problem to do a month-to-month lease?

I’m not sure how long I’m going to want to stay.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 228

Jet opened a drawer in the filing cabinet and rustled

through the papers inside. He pulled out a single, legal-
length sheet and slid it in front of Alan. “Not at all. We
get transients in here from time to time, people looking
for a place to light a spell before moving on. Four
hundred a month, lawn service, water, and garbage pick-
up included.”

“I’ll take it,” Alan said, reaching for a pen.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 229

Chapter Two

Alan sat at the white plastic table on the screened

porch, watching the sun paint the roofs in Divinity Park
red and gold. He was enjoying the night air, unwinding a
bit before turning in for the night. He was dead-tired
from the drive, and he’d had to unpack the truck before
the guy he called came with the tow truck and hauled it
off to the garage.

It had taken no more than ten minutes to read through

the lease and sign it. Jet had run Alan’s credit card, and
before Alan knew it, he was the proud tenant of 115
Great Horned Owl Way.

Well, maybe not so much proud as relieved.
It wasn’t much, but it was a place to stay, and more

importantly, was hundreds of miles away from Michael
and Alan’s old life. He had enough in the bank to sustain
him for a while, and if the occupants of Divinity Park --
aside from Jet, who’d been more than pleasant -- were a
bit reticent with their newest resident, well, he’d wanted
peace and quiet, hadn’t he?

Besides, he hadn’t seen a single resident who was

anywhere near his own age. Everyone from the two men
in the restaurant and the waitress to the folks he’d
spotted sitting on porches or riding around on golf carts
looked older than Alan’s parents.

Older than his grandparents, in most cases.
Not that he had anything against the elderly, because

he didn’t. He’d been brought up to respect his elders; it
was just that his only close interaction with any had
been with his grandparents, and it was over twenty years
since they’d passed on. He remembered that his
grandmother smelled like lavender, had a bosom that
could smother a horse, and always carried a ziplock bag
full of raisins in her purse. His grandfather played golf,

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 230

wore white shoes and a white belt even in winter, and
liked to pretend to pull quarters out of Alan’s ears.

Somehow, he doubted the residents of Divinity Park

would want to feed him raisins or pull coinage out of his
anatomy.

In any case, there seemed to be a serious dearth of

people under the age of forty at Divinity Park.

The only one he’d met thus far with whom he might

have something in common was Jet, and Jet, Alan freely
admitted, presented a problem.

Alan was strongly attracted to Jet. He didn’t want to

be. Hell, he told himself he was crazy to even fantasize
about Jet. Not only was Alan suffering from a serious
case of the Bad Relationship Blues, he didn’t even know
if Jet played for the same team as he did. He couldn’t
help himself, though. Jet hadn’t left his mind once since
Alan had left the Rental Office.

It’s his eyes, Alan thought. They’re...haunting. I can

almost feel him watching me, even now. A tiny shiver
rippled between his shoulder blades. He shook it off.

Outside the screen room, an elderly woman with a

poof of blue hair held back by a sun visor toured by on a
golf cart. She cast a glance heavy with suspicion at him
as she passed; her disapproval of his presence was
evident in the frown that made her eyes virtually
disappear into her wrinkles.

Such friendly neighbors, he thought, with more than a

trace of cynicism. I’m gonna love it here. Good thing
I’m not planning to stay long.

Miami still seemed his most viable choice. Orlando

was closer, but something about the beach spoke to him.
Weekends spent on hot sand, literally baking the tension
out of his muscles...yeah, that was the ticket.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 231

It would be at least the next day before the SUV was

fixed. In the meantime, he could call a couple of realtors
in Miami and get a few listings emailed to him.

“Knock, knock.”
Alan jumped, startled by the voice. He’d been so

deep in his own thoughts that he’d never noticed Jet
walking up to the door of the screen room. “Oh, hello,
again. Come on in.”

Jet shifted a paper sack to his other arm and let

himself in. “I figured you might be hungry, and the
restaurant closes at eight. I had Milly put up some fried
chicken and fries. I brought beer, and divinity for
dessert, too.”

Alan tried to hide his pleasure at not only the sight

and smell of the food, but at the unexpected company.
“Yeah, I saw that sign in the restaurant. What exactly is
divinity?”

Jet grinned at Alan with a devilish glint in his eyes.

“A divinity virgin? Oh, you’re going to enjoy this.”

Alan felt his cheeks heat. It had been a long time

since he’d been accused of being a virgin at anything.
His mind instantly dove into thoughts he’d be much
better off not having, such as what Jet looked like naked
and what those full lips would feel like wrapped around
Alan’s cock. His body tightened even as he told himself
to get a grip.

“Divinity is a candy. It’s the specialty of the house

here -- it’s where the name of the park comes from, and
we use the park’s original owners’ recipe. Top secret
stuff, by the way. I could tell you what’s in it, but then
I’d have to kill you.”

Alan laughed. “But I’m a resident now, too, don’t

forget.”

“True, true, but you haven’t decided how long you’re

going to stay. Now, if you were to become a permanent

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 232

resident, say buy this little puppy here outright,” Jet
said, patting the wall of the screen room, “then you’d
have full access to all of Divinity Park’s secrets.” He
winked at Alan, and his lazy smile seemed sensuous.

“Aw, come on...not even a hint?”
“Okay, okay,” Jet said, leaning in toward Alan. He

looked to the left, then to the right, then winked . “It’s
got sugar in it,” he said, in a stage whisper that made
Alan laugh again.

Alan was enjoying Jet’s flirty banter. He was pretty

confident now which side of the fence Jet walked. There
was a definite attraction sizzling between them.
Suddenly, Alan didn’t feel nearly as sleepy as he had
before Jet arrived.

Bad idea, Alan thought, biting the inside of his

cheek, trying to stem his body’s reaction to Jet. Coming
off a break-up, remember? Vulnerable? Possibility of
emotion transference? Any of this ringing a bell?

He shifted in his seat, trying not to be obvious about

it, and scoffed at himself. Oh, can it. A one night stand
never hurt anybody, and you sure as hell can use a little
tension relief. If, of course, you’re on the right track and
he’s willing.

Please let him be willing.
“Alan?”
Alan blinked, so absorbed in his internal struggle and

sidetracked by his body’s reaction to Jet, that he missed
Jet’s question. “Huh?”

“I was asking if you wanted to eat now. The chicken

is going to get cold.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Let’s go inside. You said this place

came with dinnerware, right?”

“Right down to the soup spoons and nutcrackers.” Jet

was smiling as he stood up and picked up the to-go bag
from the Honey Pot.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 233

Alan felt his heart speed up when Jet’s striking eyes

lowered briefly to look at the soft bulge filling out
Alan’s crotch. He’s checking out my package! Alan
thought, biting back a grin. Can we say “interested?”

I hope this house is secured to the foundation,

because I think there may be some rocking and rolling
going on after dinner. Don’t want the neighbors to think
I’m having a seismic event under my trailer.

***

Michael frowned, glaring at the printout of debit card

transactions. Indianapolis, Nashville, Atlanta,
Jacksonville. The last charge had been to somewhere
called “Divinity Park” in Polk County, Florida. A quick
Internet search revealed “Divinity Park” to be a trailer
park.

A trailer park! Michael shook his head at the thought

of Alan living like trailer trash in some two bit,
backwater tin-can-on-wheels.

Thank goodness Alan hadn’t thought to cancel his

debit card, or Michael would’ve stood almost no chance
of tracking him.

How could leave me like this? I thought he loved me,

but we have one little argument and he’s running out the
door like his ass was on fire.

Maybe it was just stress. Yeah, Michael thought. That

must be it. He was stressing over his job, or something,
and when we had that ridiculous fight, he snapped. He
probably regrets leaving me, but doesn’t know how to
tell me, or he’s too ashamed to ask me to take him back.

A smug smile replaced Michael’s frown. Well, he’s

in for a surprise. I’m going to fly down there. He’ll
apologize, and things will go back to the way they were,
the way they’re supposed to be.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 234

***

The fried chicken was good; the company was even

better.

Jet was delightful. He had a wicked sense of humor,

and that, combined with his deep southern drawl, made
him seem sexier with every passing minute.

“So, what are you doing running the sales office at

Divinity Park?” Alan asked, as they both helped
themselves to generous portions of food. “I mean, don’t
get me wrong, but it isn’t exactly a fast track to success,
is it?”

Jet chuckled. “No, but it’s exactly where I want to be.

Believe it or not, I connect with the people here. If it
wasn’t for Divinity Park, most of these folks would be
living in the woods.”

“That can’t be true. Surely, most of them have

family.”

“Some, like poor old Russ Saber. Unfortunately, like

I said before, his kin live up in Wyoming. Russ couldn’t
take the cold, especially after he got older. It’s the same
story with most of our residents.”

“There are other trailer parks, though. Assisted living

centers, nursing homes...”

“Not for our folks. They’re a special breed.”
“No doubt. They’re not an overly friendly bunch,

though, are they?”

“They just don’t know you yet. It just takes a while

for them to warm up to strangers, and most of them
haven’t had easy lives. They’ll come to trust you
eventually, I’m sure.”

Alan shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll be here long

enough. I’ve been considering a move to Miami.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 235

Jet’s eyes opened wide. “Miami? Why? All that

traffic, and noise, and crowds... Why would you want to
move there?”

“Because of the traffic, the noise, and the crowds,”

Alan quipped. “I’m not sure I could stand living here for
any sizable length of time. It’s too quiet, too boring.
Present company excepted, of course,” he was quick to
amend.

Jet snorted. “Oh, of course. Actually, I was born here.

My grandparents are the ones who founded the park. I’m
used to it, I guess. I don’t think I’d be happy living
anywhere else.”

They fell silent, both lost in their own thoughts as

they ate. Alan couldn’t stop watching Jet. He was even
sexy when he ate. His lips would close around the tines
of his fork, eyes closing, his pleasure in the taste of the
food evident on his face.

Alan remained hard all through dinner, his thoughts

never quite getting past wanting Jet naked in his bed.

When they were through, they each took a beer and

divinity into the living room and sat on the sofa. They
each had a piece of the light, fluffy divinity candy, and
made stilted small talk.

Alan was distracted, trying to figure out how to bring

up his desire to sleep with Jet, when Jet turned to him
and solved his problem for him.

“I’ve always been a firm believer in speaking my

mind, Alan, and you can feel free to tell me to go to Hell
if you want, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

Alan felt his mouth quirk in a relieved smile as he set

his beer bottle down on the coffee table next to the open
bag of divinity. “Yeah?”

“Been wanting to ever since I brought you into the

rental office and talked you into staying.”

“Oh is that what you did?”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 236

“Damn straight,” Jet said with a smile. “Got you to

lease this house, then wined and dined you with fried
chicken, divinity, and beer.”

Alan leaned in a little closer to Jet. “Had an ulterior

motive all along, did you?”

Their lips were only inches apart. “Oh, yeah. I’m

sneaky that way.”

“Well, I guess it would be a shame to disappoint you

after all the trouble you went through,” Alan whispered,
and closed the distance between them.

Jet’s lips were cool from drinking his beer, and tasted

sweet from the divinity candy. Combined with
something else, something uniquely Jet, the flavor was
intoxicating. Alan cupped Jet’s cheeks, feeling bristly
beard scraping his palms, and deepened the kiss.

“Want more than a kiss, Jet,” Alan said, when he was

finally forced to break away for a gulp of air. He was
breathing hard, his entire body strung tight. “Want you.”

Those two words broke the tension that had been

steadily building between them. They stood up as if by
mutual agreement. Hunger that had nothing to do with
the remains of the fried chicken in the kitchen heated
Alan’s belly.

Jet responded by pulling off his t-shirt, exposing his

wide, finely muscled chest. His oddly beautiful, golden
eyes blazed with a need that matched the one Alan felt.
“Now. Right now. Right here.”

“The bedroom...?”
“Too far.”
Jet tugged at Alan’s clothing, pulling off his shirt,

going for his belt. Alan slapped Jet’s hands away
impatiently -- he could get naked a lot faster if he did it
himself, and proceeded to do just that, stripping off in
record time. Jet took the hint and did the same.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 237

They stood still for a moment, as if frozen, each

drinking in the sight of the other’s bare skin.

Jet’s body was firm and nicely muscled. His body

hair matched the odd coloring of the mop on his head,
including the smattering of hair between his amber-
colored nipples and the thicker thatch at his groin. His
skin was darkly tanned, except for a swimsuit line. The
contrast between the creamy, pale skin of his groin, hips,
and ass and the rest of him was stark and sexy.

His dick mesmerized Alan. It was shorter than Alan’s

own, but thick, and already hard for him. Before Alan
even realized he was doing it, he’d dropped to his knees
and taken Jet into his mouth.

“Oh, yeah, suck me. Fuck, that’s hot,” Jet said. His

voice was hoarse, sounding more like a growl.

Alan fondled Jet’s sac, then slipped a hand around

Jet’s slim hips to give his ass a squeeze. One finger
slipped between Jet’s cheeks, and the long, low moan
Alan heard told him he’d hit his mark.

“Fuck, I want your ass,” Alan said, looking up at Jet.
Jet’s eyes were darkened to bronze, his lips parted

slightly as he nodded. Alan stood up and led him into
the bedroom.

Alan took a moment to grab lube and a condom from

his vanity case. When he turned to the bed, Jet was
sprawled on it, stroking himself. He watched Jet’s hand
work that lovely cock for a minute or two, until his own
body demanded equal treatment.

Jet’s body accepted Alan as if it were made for him,

cocooning him in fiery silk. His eyes rolled to the back
of his head, and he groaned loudly, pleasure spiking
through him.

“Move, damn it,” Jet growled. “Fuck me.”
Alan was more than ready and happy to oblige.

Words ceased to have meaning; the only sounds were

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 238

the creaking of the bed, flesh slapping flesh, and moans,
rough and guttural as he drove himself into Jet’s body
again and again.

He felt the tingle that signaled his climax and rushed

to pull out, ripping off the condom just in time to stroke
himself to release, painting Jet’s pale ass with streaks of
come. Still feeling the lingering effects of his orgasm, he
rolled Jet over and took Jet’s cock in his hand. “Come
for me,” he said breathlessly.

Jet’s small cries of ecstasy were almost as exciting as

his body had been. Alan’s dick valiantly tried to wake
again, although given the strength of his orgasm, it
proved to be impossible. Within moments, Jet came,
adding the scent of his sex to the air.

“Wow,” Jet said, leaning up for a kiss. “That was

amazing.”

Alan was feeling too sated and boneless to answer.

He simply nodded, then padded into the bathroom for a
towel. It had been amazing. No, more than that, it had
been outstanding.

He’d felt a connection with Jet that he’d never felt

before, not even with Michael. It went bone deep, and
although he was too tired to think about it now, he
would wonder about it in the days to come.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 239

Chapter Three

Alan locked the door of the mobile home. Jet waited

at the curb in front of the house, looking slightly goofy
behind the wheel of a golf cart. He just didn’t seem the
type to drive one -- Alan thought Jet would look much
more at home on a Harley.

Just thinking about Jet dressed in biker leather sent a

jolt of desire through him, his body reacting
correspondingly. Damn, he thought. Am I getting hooked
on this guy? Not good, my friend. Not good at all. I’m
supposed to be going to Miami, remember?

He refused to think about why going to Miami didn’t

seem like it was as good an idea as it had at the
beginning of the week. Alan always considered himself
to be level-headed. Running away from Michael (which
was the bald-faced truth, even if he didn’t want to admit
it) was the most irresponsible thing he’d ever done in his
life.

Staying in a senior citizen trailer park because of a

guy he’d only known less than a week would be the
second, and yet he couldn’t deny that he was seriously
considering it. Jet seemed to be everything Alan had
ever looked for in a man. Jet was hot, sweet,
considerate, and didn’t accuse Alan of cheating every
time he stepped out of the room.

“Ready for dinner? I have to warn you, the Honey

Pot makes a mean chicken fried steak. It’s death to your
cholesterol levels and weight, but totally worth it,” Jet
said, as Alan climbed into the shotgun seat of the golf
cart.

They’d become almost inseparable since that first

night. They took most of their meals together and had
crazy-wild monkey sex each night. There was no other
way Alan could describe it – it wasn’t sweet or tender; it

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 240

was always fiery and passionate, hard, fast, and
incredibly satisfying. Alan figured if he stayed long
enough, they’d eventually get around to taking it slowly
and gently, but for now, he was imminently content with
enjoying the blow-the-top-of-his-skull-off sex they
shared.

People smiled and waved at them as they rolled

through the community, heading toward the restaurant.
It was a good feeling, even though Alan knew they were
really waving at Jet and not at him. He was a stranger,
and as he’d come to realize, strangers equated with
suspicion at Divinity Park. He was certain those same
people would be thumbing their noses at him if he were
alone.

It was frustrating.
“Don’t worry. They’ll get to know you,” Jet said

softly. It was as if he read Alan’s mind. “I told you
before, it’s just going to take them a little time.”

“Why are they like this? Is it because I’m a Yankee?”
Jet laughed. “Nothing so simple, I assure you.

They’re just old and set in their ways and have a hard
time trusting anyone they don’t know. Like I told you
before, most of them haven’t had easy lives. They’ll
come around, you’ll see.”

The horses were in the corral, just as they’d been

yesterday, but the swans were missing from the duck
pond. “Huh. Wonder where the swans are,” Alan said.
“Is there another pond around here?”

“Nah. Zsa-Zsa’s feeling under the weather, and her

sisters are fretting over her, so--”

“Wait...who? Are we still talking about the swans?”
Alan swore that Jet paled under his tan. “Uh, yeah.

Their names are Zsa-Zsa, Eva, and Magda. I meant to
say that one of the swans is sick, and we’re keeping the
three of them out of the water for a day or so.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 241

The golf cart pulled to a stop in front of the Honey

Pot, and it seemed to Alan that Jet practically shot out of
his seat before Alan could ask any more questions about
the oddly named swans. “Well, here we are. Let’s eat.”

As they tucked in to plates laden with thick slices of

chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and green bean
casserole, Alan considered his options. Maybe Jet was
right. Maybe the residents would warm up to him after
they got to know him a little. After all, Millie had
flashed him something that actually resembled a smile
when they walked into the Honey Pot, and that boded
well for his chances.

Now if only he could decide whether or not he

wanted to stay, he’d be golden.

***

They retired to Alan’s double-wide after dinner. By

the time they reached the narrow hallway leading to
Alan’s bedroom, they were both half-naked, having left
a trail of clothing behind them that began at the front
door. Shirts, socks, shoes, and jeans lay scattered on the
floor – only their underwear remained to be shed.

Jet pushed Alan up against the wall, his mouth

hungrily demanding a kiss. Alan moaned as Jet rubbed
up against him, his dick aching sweetly from the
friction. “Dude, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come in
my underwear.”

“So? You have a washing machine, right?”
“I want to be in bed, naked with you, not spraying my

Fruit of the Looms in the hallway.”

“Well, you’re in luck, then,” Jet said. His voice

sounded rough. Alan couldn’t help thinking it might be a
reflection of the level of his desire. At least, Alan hoped

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 242

it was. “Because I happen to have plans for this ass
tonight.”
“Oh, do you?”

“Fuck, yeah.”
“Then why are we still yammering out in the

hallway? Time’s a-wasting.” Alan ducked under Jet’s
arms and ran into his bedroom.

All thoughts about what Jet had planned for his

bottom fled when he flicked the lights on and realized
someone was waiting for them in the bedroom.

It took a moment for Alan to get his mouth to work.

“Michael? Michael, what the fuck are you doing here?”
He didn’t bother asking how Michael got into the house.
The gaping, slit screen in the bedroom window said it
all.

“This is him, huh?” Michael’s eyes were narrowed,

and the hate in his expression chilled Alan to the bone.
“The asshole you’ve been cheating on me with? Has it
been him all along, or is he just the newest trick you
picked up?”

“Michael, my life is no longer your concern. How did

you even find me? We’re done, remember? You threw
me out, and this time, I went. You need to leave, and I
mean within the next thirty seconds, or I’m calling the
police,” Alan said. He fought to keep his voice level and
not scream at Michael, although it was extremely
difficult.

Michael sneered at him. “That part was easy. I just

followed the trail you left with your debit card.”

Alan silently cursed himself for being a complete

moron. Weren’t people on the run supposed to avoid
using plastic like the plague? Then again, it had never
occurred to Alan that Michael would go so far as to
follow him. His only concern at the time had been

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 243

putting miles between them, not cancelling his bank card
on their joint account.

“It doesn’t matter, Michael. You need to leave, right

now.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Look, I’m going to make

this easy for you. I forgive you. Pack up your stuff, and
let’s go home before I change my mind. And tell the
whore behind you to leave. I can’t stand looking at
him,” Michael said.

Forgive him? Surely, Michael didn’t seriously think

Alan would go back to him? Especially now, after
Michael hunted Alan down and broke into his house.
What sort of fuckery was Michael up to now?

Alan took in a deep, shaky breath, trying to control

his anger, and failing. “Michael, for the record, I never
cheated on you when we were together. Now, try to
wrap your head around this – I’ll use small words so
you’ll understand. We are not a couple anymore! We’re
done. Finished. Through. I have a new life now, and
you’re no longer a part of it. Go home, Michael. Find
somebody to make you happy, because it isn’t me.”

“No! You belong to me, Alan. Not to anyone else.

It’s not over between us. You still love me!”

“Michael--"
“Even your whore can see it. He left. He knows he

can’t win against me. Get your stuff. I have tickets on
the redeye back home.”

Alan blinked, glancing over his shoulder. It was true;

Jet was gone, not that Alan blamed Jet for leaving.
They’d only known each other a week; surely that
wasn’t long enough to want to hang around for what was
shaping up to be an extremely uncomfortable situation.

“Alan, I told you to get your stuff. Don’t make me

any angrier than I already am,” Michael growled. He
advanced on Alan, and for the first time, Alan saw the

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knife in Michael’s hand and the madness glittering in his
eyes. “Don’t make me hurt you. ”

Alan began to slowly back away from Michael. For

the first time, he realized Michael didn’t just suffer from
terminally low self-esteem coupled with a serious case
of asshole, as he’d previously thought.

Michael was insane.
And there was no telling what someone who was not

in their right mind would do.

“Michael, please, calm down. Let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about! You’re coming with

me.”

Michael jabbed the knife at Alan, who sidestepped to

avoid the flashing blade. He realized Michael was
herding him away from the bedroom door.

“This is the last time I’m going to tell you. Get your

stuff packed. You have five minutes, then either we’re
leaving here together, or I’m leaving you behind in
pieces,” Michael said. He swung the knife in Alan’s
direction again, making Alan take another step away
from the door.

Suddenly, a ferocious snarl echoed through the

house, bringing both Michael and Alan up short.
Whatever made it sounded as if it was in the house with
them.

“What the fuck was that?” Alan asked, looking out

the bedroom door to the hallway.

“Maybe your whore is watching television,” Michael

said. His laughter sounded as poisonous as his threats
had been. “Just goes to show how much he cares about
you, huh?”

Alan didn’t have time to formulate an opinion on the

matter, because at that moment a tremendous cat padded
into the bedroom. It’s ears were flat against it’s head,
and a growl rumbled in its throat. It was obviously

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 245

angry, although where it had come from and how it had
gotten into Alan’s house was a mystery. Had Jet left the
front door open when he’d left?

The cat was tawny, with golden eyes and a mouthful

of very long, very sharp teeth. It was facing Michael,
and snarled again.

Michael’s face went chalk white, and he dropped the

knife, obviously terrified. When the cat took a step
toward him, he backed up. For a moment, it looked as if
he and the cat were doing some sort of synchronized
dance moves. The cat took a step forward, and Michael
a step back. The cat took a step to the side, and Michael
countered.

Amazingly, the cat backed Michael from the

bedroom into the living room and right up to the front
door. It didn’t attack; it just kept snarling and taking one
step closer to Michael at a time.

Alan could’ve sworn the cat was playing with

Michael, although he was sure Michael didn’t see it that
way. Michael’s eyes bulged like boiled eggs. He kept
asking for Alan to help him, but what did he expect Alan
to do? Wrestle the big cat to the ground?

A siren wailed in the distance, getting closer by the

minute. By the time the cat backed Michael out of the
house and into the carport, a county sheriff’s car was
pulling up to the curb.

The cat turned its attention away from Michael for

the first time, looking directly at Alan. For a moment,
Alan had the strangest feeling that he’d seen those
golden eyes before. Then the moment was gone,
replaced by the sheriff’s questions, Michael’s screaming
accusations, and Alan’s explanations.

Jet returned just as the sheriff was taking Michael

away to the hospital for “observation.” In the morning,
Alan would swear out a restraining order on Michael,

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 246

just in case he was released after the customary seventy-
two hour hold.

“I think I need to be alone right now, Jet,” Alan said

through gritted teeth. He noticed Jet was wearing jeans,
although he himself was still wearing nothing but his
underwear. He was feeling very tired and vulnerable and
angry, both at Michael, and at Jet for deserting him. If it
wasn’t for the appearance of the cat (which, by the way,
the sheriff insisted must not have been a cat at all, but
rather a big dog), Michael might’ve stabbed or even
killed him!

“No, you don’t. What you need -- what you deserve -

- is an explanation,” Jet said, taking Alan’s arm.

Alan allowed himself to be pulled into the house

against his better judgment. He didn’t want
explanations. He wanted to get out of Divinity Park
before he invested any more of his heart into a man like
Jet, somebody who’d run at the first sign of trouble.
“There’s really nothing to say.”

“Oh, yes, there is,” Jet said. He pushed Alan firmly,

if gently, onto the sofa. “I know what you’re thinking,
but you’re wrong. I didn’t run out on you tonight. I left
only long enough to put a call into the Sheriff’s Office.
Then I came right back.”

Alan rolled his eyes. “I was scared, but not blind, Jet.

You weren’t there.”

“Yes, I was. I just didn’t look the way I do now.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jet sighed heavily. “I needed to protect you, Alan, but

I couldn’t do it like this,” he said, gesturing toward
himself. “I was afraid that if I rushed Michael, he would
hurt you. So I came back in my other form, hoping to
frighten him off, and it worked.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 247

“O-other form?” Alan caught himself just before

rolling his eyes. Leave it to him to leave one nut-job
only to travel a thousand miles and find another one.

“I know you don’t believe me, so I’m going to show

you. Just promise me you won’t freak out, okay?
Remember, I’d never hurt you,” Jet said, stepping out of
his underwear.

Then, in a blink of an eye, Jet disappeared. In his

place stood the big cat with the golden eyes, the one
who’d saved Alan from Michael.

Suddenly, Alan recalled thinking he’d seen those

beautiful eyes somewhere before. He had.

They were Jet’s eyes.
“J-Jet? No, it’s not possible...” He sat back against

the sofa cushions, his mind frantically trying to make
sense out of what he was seeing. He jumped when the
big cat rubbed its head against his knee.

Just as quickly as Jet had disappeared, he was back,

squatting next to Alan’s leg. “I’m a shapeshifter, Alan.
My other form is a Florida panther. Everyone who lives
here is a shifter. That’s why they don’t trust strangers.
Most of them have spent their entire lives in hiding. My
grandparents founded this park so that the elderly of our
kind would have someplace to go that was safe.”

“Y-you...they...all of you?”
“Afraid so.”
“So, the swans are actually...”
“Three sisters. Zsa-Zsa is feeling much better, by the

way. They’ll probably be out on the pond tomorrow.”

“The guard? The waitress?”
“An elk and a bear.”
Alan moaned, holding his head in his hands. “I can’t

think. I can’t...this is impossible!”

“No, it isn’t. Alan,” Jet said, tipping Alan’s face up,

“I’m still me. I saved you, risked exposing not only

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myself but the whole park to you because I think I’m in
love with you. Our kind mates for life, Alan. I knew
you were mine the first time we made love, maybe even
from the first time I saw you, but you’re human and
probably don’t feel the same way. I’ll understand if you
want to move on. I won’t stand in your way, but I
wish...no, I pray, that you’ll take a few days to think it
over. I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay, here,
with me. I love you, Alan.”

Alan remembered how he’d felt that first time. “On

our first night together, I felt something, Jet. It was a
feeling of being connected to you that I’d never felt with
anyone else. Did it have something to do with this
mating business you’re talking about?” Alan asked.

“Maybe. I’ve never heard of a human feeling it, but

then again, I’m more familiar with shifters than humans,
having been raised here at Divinity Park.”

Alan looked into Jet’s warm golden eyes. They were

full of concern, but more than that, they were filled with
trust, the one thing his relationship with Michael had
been missing from the start. The very thing he’d been
looking for. For Jet to tell him a secret like this was an
incredible leap of faith. Jet was basically entrusting Alan
with not only his own life, but the lives of everyone in
Divinity Park.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
When he opened them again, he knew what his

decision would be.

Divinity Park, Population 57, had just acquired a new

full-time resident.

~END

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 249

Killer Love

The tank was gigantic, as was the eleven-ton creature

swimming laps within it. The Orca, more commonly
referred to as a killer whale, dwarfed the trainer who
rode on its back. They made two circuits around the tank
before both dove deep.

In a startling display that demonstrated the power of

the whale, the Orca burst out of the water in an
explosion of black and white and water with the trainer
balanced precariously on the tip of its nose. The crowd
in the stadium went wild, applauding and screaming
their approval.

There was one person on the bleachers who was not

clapping or shouting, and with good reason. Jeremy
knew that whale, and furthermore, knew the whale had
not chosen to spend its life performing parlor tricks for
tourists in spandex shorts and “Save the Whales” t-shirts
at the Aqua-Venture Amusement Park.

No, the whale was still here because he was sulking.
If there was anybody who enjoyed a good sulk, it was

Killian.

Well, it’s time for this one to end, Jeremy thought

resolutely. The crowd around him began to disperse, but
Jeremy remained where he was, waiting for the stadium
to empty. He’s coming home with me if I have to drag
him by his dorsal fin all the way up I-95.

He finally rose to his feet and followed the last

stragglers of the crowd out of the arena. He cast a last
look at the tank and saw Killian swim through a gate.
Probably his holding pen, Jeremy thought. He made sure
no one was looking, then ducked into the men’s
washroom. The park was closing, and it was already
dark outside. As soon as the park closed for the night,

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 250

he’d try to sneak back into the holding pens and find
Killian. Hopefully, they’d be on their way home in
another hour.

Damn Killian for putting him through this. If only

Killian would just get over himself and shift back, all
this subterfuge could be avoided, he thought. But no,
that would be too easy. No, Killian much preferred
forcing Jeremy into a life of crime. Let’s start with
trespassing, Jeremy thought. Breaking and entering. Oh,
and let’s not forget grand theft and cruelty to animals,
because that’s what they’ll charge me with if I get
caught trying to steal their fucking killer whale!

Not to mention that if Jeremy hadn’t happened to see

a piece the local news did on the Aqua-Venture Park and
their new killer whale acquisition, he wouldn’t have
known where to look for Killian at all. He’d still be
home, beside himself with worry, fearing Killian would
never come back.

Jeremy ducked into a stall and quickly took off his

clothing. Luckily for him, the public restrooms at Aqua-
Venture didn’t have doors. They were built so that
guests could walk around a wall directly into the
restroom. Only the stalls had doors. It was good thing,
because in his animal-form, Jeremy would never be able
to turn a something as large as a doorknob.

He stuffed everything into a small tote bag and hung

it on the hook behind the door. Hopefully, no one would
come in to clean the bathrooms before he could get
Killian and redress, or they’d be driving home in the
nude.

Not that he minded being nude with Killian any time,

any place, but the state troopers and toll collectors might
take umbrage with it. His cock twitched, remembering
what Killian looked like naked and in human form.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 251

Stop thinking about sex! You’re pissed off at him,

remember?

He did remember. He remembered their argument

and how Killian had dove off the pier behind their house
in a fit of temper, flashing Jeremy a fluke, the killer
whale equivalent of the one finger salute.

And he remembered how soft Killian’s lips were, and

how hard Killian’s body was, and what the combination
of the two did to him when Killian put forth the effort.

His cock twitched again, refusing to behave, like a

wicked child gleefully disobeying their elder. Naughty
dick. Naughty. No cookie, he thought petulantly. He
ignored his body’s betrayal and shifted into his squirrel-
form. He scampered out of the men’s room, chattering to
himself, and raced across the empty stadium toward the
holding pens.

The gates between the public arena and the private

holding pens were built to keep humans out and large
aquatic mammals in, not deter squirrels on a rescue
mission. Jeremy squeezed easily through the four-inch
gap at the bottom of the gate and found himself staring
at six large water tanks. He walked along the narrow
bridge between them, looking into each tank as he
passed.

A pair of dolphins poked their heads out of the water

in the first tank, chiding his intrusion with loud squeaks
and clicks. In the next tank, a beautiful, white beluga
whale swam in circuits around the pen, ignoring him
completely. The next pen held a pair of so-ugly-they’re-
cute manatees, who rolled on their backs and waved
their flippers at him. Nice girls, those two, he thought as
he passed. Wish everyone was as friendly. He passed
more dolphins and another smaller killer whale. Finally,
he spotted Killian in the last, and largest, pen.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 252

Jeremy perched on the edge of the tank, staring

balefully at the huge black and white Orca. He gave a
quick look around for any sign of human trainers or
security, and seeing none, quickly shifted into his man-
form. “Are you happy now? Throwing a tantrum and
swimming off in the middle of an argument was bad
enough, but then you had to go and let yourself get
caught, besides.”

Killian turned his back and swam to the opposite side

of the tank.

“Killian, come on! I’m sorry. Okay? I said it. I’m

sorry. Will you come home now?”

Killian swam closer, then turned his back again and

flipped his enormous flukes, showering Jeremy with
cold salt water.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Killian!” Jeremy sputtered. He

swiped water from his eyes, glaring at Killian. Then, he
smirked. “Okay, I guess I deserved that. Look, I really
had no interest in the guy who was hitting on me at the
bar. I don’t know his name and don’t want to know it.
After you left, I told him so. I followed you right home,
didn’t I?” He sat down on the edge of the tank, letting
his feet dangle in the water. It was almost too cold to be
comfortable for very long. “Look, Killian, I love you.
Maybe I don’t tell you often enough, but I do. I miss
you, Killian. Come home, okay?”

For a moment, Jeremy though Killian was going to

ignore him, but then Killian swam over to him. In the
blink of an eye, Killian shifted and hoisted himself out
of the water, sitting on the edge next to Jeremy. Killian’s
dark eyes seemed moist, but that might’ve been because
of the sea water he’d been swimming in.

Somehow, Jeremy doubted it, especially when

Killian spoke with a voice that crackled with emotion.

“I missed you, too.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 253

Jeremy smiled and reached for Killian. It seemed like

it had been eons since he last held Killian close, felt
Killian’s heart beating against the skin of his chest and
felt Killian’s warm breath on his neck.

His body hardened immediately, and no amount of

self control could dampen his arousal, not that he even
bothered trying. His mouth found Killian’s, just as warm
and soft as he remembered. He flicked his tongue over
Killian’s lips, wanting a deeper taste.

His hand slipped to Killian’s lap, where Killian’s

cock stood at full alert. Feeling Killian’s hard shaft and
the silky, hot skin of Killian’s erection under his palm
sharpened Jeremy’s desire. “Fuck, even after all this
time, I get hard just touching you,” Jeremy whispered.

Killian’s only answer was a low moan and thrust of

his tongue that swept Jeremy’s mouth. Jeremy allowed
Killian to push him backward, guiding him to lie back
on the walkway. He surrendered himself to Killian, who
in the water was an apex predator, but on land was a
consummate lover. Killian’s lips, teeth, and tongue
sampled Jeremy’s skin, darting from place to place --
under his jaw, his throat, his chest, a nipple – sending
shivers racing over Jeremy’s skin.

Jeremy groaned as Killian’s lips encircled the head of

his cock, thinking it just didn’t get better than this and
that he could forgive Killian anything as long as Killian
would keep doing what Killian was doing. When
Killian took him in deeply, sucking hard, Jeremy ceased
having any thoughts at all.

He didn’t hear the squeaking and clicks of the

dolphins, or the splashing of the beluga and manatees, or
the prickly spouting of the other killer whale. All he
heard was his own blood pounding in his ears as he
came, his back arching off the walkway.

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 254

Laughing, dark eyes glittered in the dim lighting.

“You could never stay mad at me,” Killian said. His lips
curved into an arrogant smile.

“Don’t be too sure. You know, someday I’m going to

throw a tantrum of my own and take off. See how you
like it.” Orgasm or no orgasm, Jeremy was still a little
irritated at Killian for running off again.

“I’m sorry. I was just so...”
“Jealous? Childish? Stupid? Feel free to use any of

these.”

“Jealous, maybe. Okay, actually, I was all three. I get

it. I said I was sorry,” Killian said. His lower lip jutted
out in a pout.

“Let’s just forget it and go home, huh? I brought

clothes for you,” Jeremy said.

“Can we stop at IHOP on the way home? I’m

starving.”

“You just got fed! I can see the empty fish pails right

there,” Jeremy said. He pointed to a stack of empty
metal pails near the tank.

“They didn’t feed me enough. I’m still a growing

whale.”

“Yeah, growing sideways,” Jeremy said. “A fat

mammal is a fat mammal, whether you’re human or a
whale.”

“Hey, how about showing a little sympathy, huh? Did

you see the droop in my dorsal fin?” Killian whined.

But Jeremy was having none of it. Jeremy stood up

and helped Killian to his feet, leading Killian back
toward the bathrooms. “Don’t be such a big baby. You
did it to yourself, Killian. You shouldn’t have let the
Aqua-Venture people capture you. You know what the
stress of captivity does to whales and dolphins. They
develop dorsal fin collapse. Don’t worry. Yours will
perk up soon enough, once I get you home.”

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 255

Killian’s pout turned into a grin. “That’s not all that’s

going to perk up once you get me home. You owe me
one, pal.” He cupped his balls as if Jeremy had any
doubt whatsoever about his meaning.

Jeremy tried to look stern, but failed. He found the

thought of returning the favor incredibly exciting,
although he wasn’t about to let Killian know it. He
coughed to cover his smile and said, “Come on. Let’s
get dressed and get out of here before somebody spots
us and we end up arrested and on the six o’clock news.”

“Wonder what they’re going to think when they get

up tomorrow morning and find their new killer whale
gone?” Killian asked.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Besides, you were never

their whale. You belong to me, remember?”

Killian smiled and slipped an arm around Jeremy’s

waist, giving him an affectionate squeeze. “Yup, and
you’re mine. Pecan.”

Jeremy blinked. “Pecan...what?”
“Pancakes. There’s an IHOP right down the road

from here. I’m going to order pecan pancakes.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind, don’t you?”
“Yup, and a killer appetite.”
Jeremy snorted and hugged Killian back. He really

didn’t care if they stopped at IHOP or if Killian gained a
hundred pounds eating pecan pancakes and whatever
else was on the menu. He had Killian back in his arms,
and that was all that mattered.

END

If you liked this book you might like: In Their Own
Skins: Shifting Sands, In Their Own Skins: Mark of
Cain

In Their Own Skins 3: Uncaged - 256