Slade

  Slade

  Laurann Dohner

  Book 2 in the New Species series. The books can be read as stand-alone stories, but it is advisable to read them in order to get the most enjoyment from the series.

  Dr. Trisha Norbit is flat on her back in a hospital bed, pinned under a really big New Species male. Though drugged out of his mind, he promises her ecstasy and is determined to deliver—but hospital staff intervenes. 215 is a man Trisha will never forget. But, when she meets him again at Homeland…he doesn’t even remember her!

  The nosy new doctor wants to know all about the breeding habits between humans and Species. Slade proposes a hands-on education but she’s not interested in a one-night stand. He can’t offer more because he’s haunted by the memory of a woman he once tried to claim. He’s shocked when he realizes they are one and the same. He’s blown it—she’ll never give him a chance now.

  But, when her life is in danger, he’s the only one who can save her. As they flee through the wilderness, their desire ignites and cannot be denied. Hot sex, on the run, has consequences that are even more dangerous and will change their lives forever.

  Reader Advisory: There is a scene of an attempted rape.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Slade

  ISBN 9781419935831

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Slade Copyright © 2011 Laurann Dohner

  Edited by Shannon Combs and Pamela Campbell

  Cover art by Syneca

  Photography by Vishstudio on Shutterstock.com

  Electronic book publication August 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Slade

  Laurann Dohner

  Dedication

  To my always and forever—Mr. Laurann.

  Prologue

  “Didn’t you used to work for a veterinarian, Trisha?”

  Trisha frowned, taking a sip of her iced coffee. Her body tensed when she heard the man’s voice. Dr. Dennis Channer was a prick. He always tried to go out of his way to harass her by any means possible. The guy just had it in for her.

  It was difficult for people to get to know her, she’d come to grips with that, but it still hurt her feelings sometimes. She’d graduated high school at the young age of fourteen and by the time she was twenty-four, she’d finished medical school, had completed her residency, and spent a few years in the trenches of some of the toughest hospitals known for incoming trauma victims. At twenty-eight she had landed her dream job at one of the top-rated hospitals within the U.S.

  Most people were either intimidated by her or believed she had to be pretty conceited. She wasn’t a snob, didn’t think she was better than anyone else, and she definitely wasn’t a cold fish. Her social skills just sucked. She had always been a bit shy, led a busy life that hadn’t allowed her friendships for the most part, and then there was the fact that few people were friendly to her. It wasn’t easy to warm up to people who gave her the cold shoulder.

  Dennis Channer was her boss and he resented the hell out of her. He’d been in his thirties, a full decade older than Trisha, when he’d come to work at Mercy Hospital. He thought her too pretty and he hadn’t hidden his opinion that her looks had landed the job rather than her skill. She’d worked her ass off to get where she had. She’d sacrificed having a personal life for her career.

  “Yes, I did. I worked at an emergency veterinarian hospital through med school.”

  “No scholarship?” He sneered at her.

  She counted to ten silently. “No.”

  “You’re up next.” His lined face appeared highly amused, too pleased to suit Trisha. “We have an incoming that is right up your alley.” He laughed, obviously making some private joke, targeting her.

  Her teeth clenched to prevent her from saying something she’d regret. She dumped her iced coffee and the rest of her sandwich into the trashcan before following Dennis down the hallway from the lounge. It will probably be another unfortunate soul, Trisha guessed. Dennis loved to toss drunks, vagrants, or gang members her way. Since he’d mentioned alley, a homeless person came to mind.

  An image of a highly smelly, unwashed body that would knock her back with its stench flashed through her brain. It might even be one of the crazy ones who would yell about how aliens from Mars were going to kidnap them all. Trisha had dealt with many of them, unfortunately. A lot of them tended to wrap foil around various body parts to prevent aliens from supposedly scanning them. Removing the stuff to evaluate their injuries usually resulted in at least four of the staff having to hold them down.

  Trisha passed Sally, a nurse she had become friends with, as she moved quickly toward the emergency doors. The frightened, grim expression on other woman’s face made Trisha tense more. Whatever was coming in had to be pretty ominous since the woman was one tough cookie, having seen a lot of horrendous things in her fifteen years working the emergency room.

  Trisha started to worry. There wasn’t much that scared Sally. The nurse hadn’t even flinched when two weeks before a gang member had been brought in with three gunshot wounds to the back. While they’d been working on the young man, a rival gang had sent one of their members into the emergency room to finish him off. Sally had calmly helped Trisha wheel the unconscious man into a closet to hide him while security cleared the building to locate the armed thug.

  Dennis turned, smiling smugly at Trisha. “We have an incoming half man, half dog.”

  “That’s not funny.” Trisha sighed. “I dumped my dinner for this? Grow up, Dennis.”

  He lifted his hands, still smiling. “I wish this were a joke but I’m serious. He’s been rescued from some Frankenstein research facility for a drug company. We have incoming to different hospitals to the tune of about sixty-five patients. We’re the nearest trauma center and they are flying him to us because he’s the worst of the victims. The onsite paramedics and the life-flight crew have confirmed that this man is human with doggy parts.” Dennis appeared downright gleeful. “And he’s all yours since you know your dogs.”

  Trisha put her hands on her hips. “You should have saved this one for April’s Fool’s Day. What is the real story? Are they bringing in a victim wearing a dog suit? Is he a character actor who tripped at some kid’s birthday party while playing a mutt?”

  “It’s true,” Sally intervened softly. “It’s on every major channel.” Sh
e didn’t play practical jokes on Trisha. Her dark eyes looked anxious. “The cops busted some research facility and they are pulling survivors from the building, saying they are part animal and part people. We do have an incoming life flight with one of them onboard. We called an emergency vet to back us up but he’s twenty minutes out.”

  Shock rippled through Trisha as she struggled to take in the ramifications of what she’d heard. She spun around to stride quickly to the nurse’s station to peer up at the television mounted to the wall. Two nurses were already watching, their eyes glued to the set. A news helicopter circled a building while filming ambulances, police, fire and swat vehicles on the ground. In bold lettering scrolling across the screen she read enough to cause her to spin back around.

  “Time?” Trisha shouted.

  Cory, the male nurse who did incoming control, spoke from his tucked-away position behind a desk at the entrance. “They are three minutes out. He’s stable so far.”

  “Crap,” Trisha ground out. Her gaze flew to Dennis and she gave him a grim nod. “What do we know so far?”

  “Shaky details at best.” Dennis still smiled. “He’s got blood loss, he’s in shock, and they don’t know what is wrong with Dog Boy. They just scooped him and ran when his vitals crashed. Maybe you can give him a doggy treat and he can bark out his injuries.”

  “You’re amused?” Trisha glared at him with disgust. “God, you’re a bastard. This is someone’s life.” She turned her back on him and focused on Sally. “Prep an OR just in case since we don’t know what we’ll be dealing with. Get everyone woken up. We’ll have to cross and match his blood type and I want full panels. We—”

  “Don’t carry doggy blood,” Dennis interrupted.

  Trisha whirled around and glowered at him. “I’m working here. I’m a professional. Do you remember what that is?”

  His smile died. “Don’t speak to me that way. I’m your boss.”

  “You’re only one of them and I’ll go over your head if you don’t back off me right now,” Trisha threatened. “Either help or get out of my way. The life flight should land in under a minute.” She spun on her heel, jogging toward the outer door. She yelled instructions on her way outside to scan the sky.

  She heard the helicopter before she saw it. Noises behind her assured that her team moved into place as the doors whished open and she turned her head, throwing her arm up as the helicopter lowered. The wind blown up by the blades made her turn her head even more, tucking it under her loose white coat sleeve to shield most of her face. Her gaze fixed on Sally and the other two medical personnel who had rolled a gurney outside with them. She hoped she didn’t look as apprehensive as the other three did. The helicopter touched down.

  Only years of experience kept Trisha calm. She barely glanced at the large, covered bundle being lifted from the helicopter. She gave her full attention to the attendant while he yelled out the patient’s vitals and information. Trisha nodded, listening.

  “What’s his name?”

  “215.”

  Trisha frowned at the life-flight medic. He nodded vigorously. “It’s all we have. It is what they called him.”

  “Thanks.” Trisha pivoted, hurrying after the gurney being pushed inside. She flashed Cory a glance as she stormed past him. “Get me more information on him. Call the police handling that mess, whatever it takes, but I need to know everything I can about this guy. The only name they have for him is 215.” She yanked gloves out her pocket and pulled them on.

  “I’m on it,” Cory promised, grabbing up his phone.

  Trisha loved working with him. He was a “can do” kind of guy. He never bitched, never whined about a thing, and did whatever she asked even if it wasn’t technically his job. She knew he’d do what he could to help. She rushed into the exam room and watched as her team transferred the victim from the gurney onto an exam bed. She moved to his head and her gloved hands reached for his face.

  “Let’s go,” Trisha ordered. She glanced at the body being revealed as her team began removing his clothing. The victim had dirt smeared on his face and body, some of it dried clumps of mud, making it difficult to make out his features.

  “Look at this,” Sally muttered. “His clothes have Velcro on the sides instead of seams.”

  “Handy,” Pete grunted. “Help me roll him, Ally. He’s a big son of a bitch.”

  “Possible knife wound to the lower back,” Ally noted. “Four inches at least.” She probed the wound with her gloved hands. “It isn’t deep.”

  “We have some burns on his right shoulder,” Pete added. “Second degree, so not bad. I think someone used Taser darts on him. There are small puncture wounds centered in the affected areas. What kind of weapon causes burns? I’ve never seen this before.”

  Trisha had been feeling his head. “He’s got a lump but no visible bleeding. Order a CT scan.” She released him and gripped her mini flashlight. She gently opened one eyelid, seeing he had beautiful blue eyes. She flashed her light in each eye, checked responses. Her relief was instant when his pupils reacted perfectly. She touched his throat, feeling for anything off. No obvious broken bones, no swelling, she mentally ticked off the checklist inside her head. She focused on his mouth next and pulled apart his lips. And gasped.

  Her team froze, all focused on her. Trisha shook herself from the stunned moment. She stared at the sharp teeth inside the patient’s mouth. They resembled vampire fangs. She carefully reached between his full lips and spread his jaw farther apart to check inside his mouth and get a look at his airway.

  “Are those dog teeth?” Pete’s voice came out shaky.

  “Gunshot wound to the left thigh,” Ally announced. “Through and through.”

  “Bleeding?” Trisha released the patient’s mouth.

  “Manageable but he’s nicked an artery. The medics pressure patched it. His blood pressure is stable at the moment. The fluids they pushed in transit seem to have helped.”

  “Let’s move him to OR as soon as we’re done. Wrap it up. It should be prepped and waiting for us.”

  Trisha ignored the other staff who dashed in and out of the exam room grabbing samples from the victim. She had faith in her team and they worked well together. Mercy Hospital had a reputation of only hiring the best staff. They carefully rolled the patient onto his side and searched every inch of his skin.

  “Needle marks on his right ass cheek,” Sally noted. “He isn’t a junky. He would have to be pretty flexible to reach there and with those guns he has, men aren’t real flexible.”

  “He has a gun?” Trisha yanked her hands away from the patient. “Where? Be careful.”

  Sally laughed for the first time. “Not a real gun. Guns, Trisha. Don’t you know that means big, buff muscles? The guy is total beefcake. Didn’t you notice?”

  Trisha shook her head, relieved the guy wasn’t armed. “Let’s get him into the OR and check out that thigh. It’s still bleeding.” She examined the gunshot wound. She prodded the holes on each side where the bullet had gone through.

  “Let’s move, people,” Ally ordered.

  Trisha headed for the door. “I’ll scrub up.”

  She made it to the hallway before she was brought to a stop where Dr. Jose Roldio blocked her path. He looked pale. “I have this one, Trisha. Thanks.” He shoved past her.

  Trisha stood there stunned for a few seconds that Jose had just taken over her patient’s care without her asking for a consult. She leaped out of the way quickly though when her team wheeled the unconscious man from the exam room. She stared at the patient’s face now that she had time to think, her mind allowing impressions to register. He had long, thick, brown hair with blond streaks threaded through it. His eyes had been unusually colored—dark blue with lighter blue streaks swirling in the irises, making them really beautiful. She tore her bloody gloves off and stormed to a trashcan. It irritated her badly that she wasn’t the one who’d operate on him.

  Trisha found herself back inside the doctor’s lounge six
patients later. She sipped another iced coffee and tried to cool down. Jose Roldio was one of the leading trauma surgeons in the country and the patient was important, newsworthy. It shouldn’t bother her so much that he’d come running from wherever he’d been to take over the man’s care but it did. Her shoulders slumped. She always wanted to follow through with her patients.

  The door behind her opened, drawing her attention. She met the gaze of the devil himself as Dr. Roldio walked in looking worn out. He nodded at her, moving for the coffee machine. Trisha twisted in her chair to face him.

  “Did he make it?”

  “Yeah. I had to repair an artery but that was the worst of it. The bleeding wasn’t as bad as we thought. The vet guy showed up but he was too afraid to touch our patient. He just took up space inside my operating room. You saw the patient’s abnormalities. That’s not from plastic surgery. I checked while he was on my table. They somehow made that guy. He’s got enough anomalies that I’m convinced he’s not totally human. Can you believe this shit? I mean, Jesus.”

  “Were we able to match his blood?” That mystery had bothered Trisha’s thoughts for hours.

  “No. We gave him universal plasma and he didn’t reject it. He’s stable now but I had to send him up to ICU, considering we have no idea what we’re dealing with. We got word from the division handling this nightmare that some of these people are kind of dangerous. We had to put guards outside his door for his protection and ours. I guess there are news crews camping at reception trying to sneak inside too.” Jose slumped into a chair as he met Trisha’s gaze. “I didn’t mean to step on your toes. I think you’re a great doctor but this one was over my head. The big guys were afraid he’d die so they called me in. The shit is going to hit the fan worldwide over this.”