the receiver from the phone base. Dialing quickly, he waited for a voice to answer.
“Doc Martin’s.” Sherra’s voice was carefully cultured, smooth and cool.
“Get Doc out to the house as soon as possible. I have a problem.”
There was silence on the line.
“What kind?” she asked him worriedly.
“Physical. I need some tests. Just get out there.”
He hung the phone up before she could answer. He was throbbing, his flesh sensitive, his body demanding relief from the little journalist that tempted him so desperately.
Lust wasn’t like that. He knew he was intensely sexual, more than a little driven in that area, and he knew it wasn’t like this. It didn’t drug, it didn’t intoxicate. It didn’t dig its claws into your loins, demanding satisfaction. Which meant it could be a problem. An instinctive, genetic problem only now showing itself. Shaking his head, he could only pray he was wrong as he headed for his truck and the peace of his home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“It may take a few days.” Doc Martin, the only scientist left alive from the original five that had worked with the creation of Callan and the others, set the dozen or so vials in a small box and began to pack his instruments.
He had blood samples, saliva samples, hell, even more than one semen sample. Despite the manual releases, though, Callan’s cock still throbbed. His blood rushed through his veins and he couldn’t get the scent of that damned woman from his body.
“Any guesses?” Callan asked him.
Doc shrugged. “It could be anything, Callan, though I say we can safely narrow it down to a sexual problem. I won’t know anything conclusive until the tests are finished. And I need samples from the woman as well. You need to bring her here tonight, let me get those samples to test alongside yours.”
“No.” He couldn’t trust himself anywhere around her.
“From what you say, she’s affected as well, Callan,” Sherra stated from behind the doctor. “We need to know what’s going on. This isn’t just about you. It could affect all of us.”
The full Pride was assembled, the other three watched him somberly, more than a little concerned at the news of this new problem they were facing.
“Let’s wait and see what mine say. If she’s still experiencing this problem, then we’ll see,” Callan bit out. “Until then, there’s no sense in alarming her.” No sense in tempting the lust raging between them.
“It’s dangerous enough that he’s had any reaction with a normal person,” Dayan said darkly. The cougar breed was brooding, his brown eyes unsettled, angry, his expression more savage than usual.
“We aren’t monsters, Dayan.” Beside him, Dawn, the youngest of the pride, also a cougar breed, protested softly.
“What do you call it, Dawn? Do you want to fuck a normal male and take the chance that your nature will destroy him?” Dayan sneered.
Callan watched Dawn flinch, her face paling, fear flashing across her expression.
“Enough,” Callan growled. “What’s happened to you, Dayan, that you would turn on the women now? There is nothing to indicate we would hurt anyone.”
“She’s not normal. She has no business—”
A savage snarl erupted from Tanner’s throat. Bengal, unpredictable, and fiercely protective of the women, as a young male his temper often ran hot and impatient.
“Enough, dammit.” Callan came to his feet, staring at them all. Taber and Tanner had placed Dawn behind them and now faced Dayan, incisors showing, their expressions masks of anger.
“They’re at it again,” Sherra sighed. “It won’t go any further.”
“It should not be going on this far.” Callan turned to her angrily. “Is this what you do while I’m drawing the Council soldiers from our home? Fight amongst yourselves?”
“Only when Dayan attempts to take over,” Tanner burst out. “You left Taber in charge, he has no right to order us, or Dawn and Sherra.”
“He is getting out of hand,
“Doc Martin’s.” Sherra’s voice was carefully cultured, smooth and cool.
“Get Doc out to the house as soon as possible. I have a problem.”
There was silence on the line.
“What kind?” she asked him worriedly.
“Physical. I need some tests. Just get out there.”
He hung the phone up before she could answer. He was throbbing, his flesh sensitive, his body demanding relief from the little journalist that tempted him so desperately.
Lust wasn’t like that. He knew he was intensely sexual, more than a little driven in that area, and he knew it wasn’t like this. It didn’t drug, it didn’t intoxicate. It didn’t dig its claws into your loins, demanding satisfaction. Which meant it could be a problem. An instinctive, genetic problem only now showing itself. Shaking his head, he could only pray he was wrong as he headed for his truck and the peace of his home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“It may take a few days.” Doc Martin, the only scientist left alive from the original five that had worked with the creation of Callan and the others, set the dozen or so vials in a small box and began to pack his instruments.
He had blood samples, saliva samples, hell, even more than one semen sample. Despite the manual releases, though, Callan’s cock still throbbed. His blood rushed through his veins and he couldn’t get the scent of that damned woman from his body.
“Any guesses?” Callan asked him.
Doc shrugged. “It could be anything, Callan, though I say we can safely narrow it down to a sexual problem. I won’t know anything conclusive until the tests are finished. And I need samples from the woman as well. You need to bring her here tonight, let me get those samples to test alongside yours.”
“No.” He couldn’t trust himself anywhere around her.
“From what you say, she’s affected as well, Callan,” Sherra stated from behind the doctor. “We need to know what’s going on. This isn’t just about you. It could affect all of us.”
The full Pride was assembled, the other three watched him somberly, more than a little concerned at the news of this new problem they were facing.
“Let’s wait and see what mine say. If she’s still experiencing this problem, then we’ll see,” Callan bit out. “Until then, there’s no sense in alarming her.” No sense in tempting the lust raging between them.
“It’s dangerous enough that he’s had any reaction with a normal person,” Dayan said darkly. The cougar breed was brooding, his brown eyes unsettled, angry, his expression more savage than usual.
“We aren’t monsters, Dayan.” Beside him, Dawn, the youngest of the pride, also a cougar breed, protested softly.
“What do you call it, Dawn? Do you want to fuck a normal male and take the chance that your nature will destroy him?” Dayan sneered.
Callan watched Dawn flinch, her face paling, fear flashing across her expression.
“Enough,” Callan growled. “What’s happened to you, Dayan, that you would turn on the women now? There is nothing to indicate we would hurt anyone.”
“She’s not normal. She has no business—”
A savage snarl erupted from Tanner’s throat. Bengal, unpredictable, and fiercely protective of the women, as a young male his temper often ran hot and impatient.
“Enough, dammit.” Callan came to his feet, staring at them all. Taber and Tanner had placed Dawn behind them and now faced Dayan, incisors showing, their expressions masks of anger.
“They’re at it again,” Sherra sighed. “It won’t go any further.”
“It should not be going on this far.” Callan turned to her angrily. “Is this what you do while I’m drawing the Council soldiers from our home? Fight amongst yourselves?”
“Only when Dayan attempts to take over,” Tanner burst out. “You left Taber in charge, he has no right to order us, or Dawn and Sherra.”
“He is getting out of hand,
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