On the Road: When a brown bear shifter runs across his mate, he discovers a scarred soul in need of healing.

  As a brown bear who’s been be-spelled by witches and rescued by horsemen and demons, Madagascar has spent months recovering. He’s bored. When Kontra’s gang gathers the information they need to take out a facility holding and experimenting on shifters, he decides to help them. While there, Madagascar runs across his mate—a wolf shifter working as a janitor... who pulls a gun on them. After disarming and securing the man, they learn his name is Ishmael Cartwright, a shifter who’d been kidnapped and sold by a now-deceased councilman gone rogue. The experiments done on Ishmael have left him with little memory of his past, and he believes any recollections of him shifting are delusions brought on by the house fire that left scars on his back. With Ishmael believing the scientists saved him, can Madagascar find some way to break through his conditioning and win his mate?

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  Reconditioning the Wolf

  Copyright © 2023 Charlie Richards

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-4001-5

  Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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  Reconditioning the Wolf

  Kontra’s Menagerie 36

  By

  Charlie Richards

  Dedication

  In family life, love is the oil that eases friction, the cement that binds closer together, and the music that brings harmony.

  ~Friedrich Nietzsche

  Chapter One

  “You’re going to do what?”

  Madagascar had expected his older brother’s shocked question upon his announcement. “I’m going to go with Kontra and some of his people to shut down the facility they’ve been researching,” he repeated.

  Congo scrubbed a hand through his thick dark hair. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you said,” he rumbled, concern evident in his voice, scent, and expression. “But... why?” Congo asked with a shake of his head.

  With a shrug, Madagascar tried to put into words what he was feeling, and he couldn’t very well just tell his brother that he was bored. “I feel like... I should be doing something,” Madagascar began slowly, trying to explain. Just because he’d anticipated Congo’s incredulity didn’t mean he’d had a proper response prepared beforehand. “Something to... I don’t know, help others after so many have helped us.”

  Maybe there was something to Congo’s assertions that Madagascar didn’t always think before he acted. Even after over two years under the spells of a circle of witches, being trapped in his brown bear form and forced to do their bidding for fear of bone-deep pain debilitating him, that didn’t seem to have changed. On the other hand, perhaps that had just exacerbated Madagascar’s tendency. Since he could once again act on his own inclinations, he wanted to exert his control in every way possible.

  When Congo sighed deeply, rested his hand on Madagascar’s shoulder, and squeezed lightly while smiling, Madagascar realized he must have said something right.

  “I understand,” Congo told him, his deep voice soft and low. His brother smiled warmly at him. “I’m proud of you for wanting to pass it on.”

  Madagascar sucked in a sharp breath. His bear rumbled happily within his mind. His chest warmed upon hearing his brother’s praise. Not only was Congo his older brother, but the man was the Alpha of their brown bear shifter sleuth—as small as it was with only six members remaining.

  Eight now, if we count the couple of mates Congo and Shannon found and bonded with.

  And I do not feel jealous. Nope, not one bit.

  “I know I don’t say it enough, Mads,” Congo muttered, using his other arm to pull him into a hug. “But I am proud of you. After everything we’ve endured, we deserve to not only build a new life, but to be happy.” While nuzzling Madagascar’s temple with his goatee, Congo murmured, “If going on this expedition makes you happy, then you have my blessing.” Drawing away, Congo pinned him with a serious expression. “Just be careful. Okay? You’re the only family I got.”

  Madagascar decided not to correct Congo’s assumption of why he’d fallen silent. No way did he want his brother to know about his discontent at not having found his own special someone. He just had to keep believing that Fate would smile upon him one day.

  Plus, technically, Madagascar wasn’t the only family he and Congo had left. They had two other brothers. Somewhere out there was their eldest brother, Kenya, as well as their youngest brother, Chad. When he and Congo had left their sleuth due to being gay, the pair had joined the rest of the sleuth in turning their backs on them.

  Some nights, Madagascar lay awake in bed and wondered if the pair ever thought of them—ever wondered where they were and if they were safe. On more than one occasion, he’d been tempted to ask Lamar—a tech-savvy peacock shifter in Kontra’s gang—to look into them. So far, Madagascar had resisted, too afraid of what he might find.

  Focusing on Congo, Madagascar offered a small nod and a cocky grin. “I’ll be fine, big bro. Don’t you worry.” He squeezed his brother’s upper arms, offering comfort. “You know these guys know what they’re doing.” Barking a laugh, Madagascar added, “Besides, I’m teamed up with Beta Sam and his mate Ryan. The dude’s enhanced. Did you know that?”

  “Enhanced?” Congo appeared confused. “What’s that mean?”

  Over the course of the year, Madagascar and the other bears in Congo’s sleuth had been recovering from the witches’ spells. The bitches had carved them into the backs of their skin in a ritual using demon blood, stripping them of free will and forcing them to follow the orders of magick users. Although, the occasional dominant paranormal, like Kontra, as well as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse who’d rescued them, could get them to respond, too. Meeting those guys had been super cool in a really scary way.

  During that time, Madagascar had heard stories from many of the guys about how they’d met their mates.

  “Well, Ryan was a soldier, a sniper,” Madagascar explained. “And one of his commanding officers approached him about getting his abilities enhanced.” With a curl of his lip, he rumbled, “Guess some military stooges were working with some of the scientists and getting some of their best to agree to experimentation by showing them bogus propaganda videos about paranormals attacking humans.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Madagascar shrugged. “Anyway, Ryan got his eyesight and reflexes enhanced before he’d discovered the truth and started helping shifters. That’s how he met Sam. A wolf pack sent him up to Kontra’s people to give them a hand.” Recalling their story, Madagascar smiled wistfully. “They had a few bumps, but they got together, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “Huh.” Congo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Guess I’ve been a little wrapped up in my mate’s activities to have heard.”

  Madagascar nodded. He knew that Congo’s panda bear shifter mate, Zhaul, was working with the group trying to get a few of the more stubborn or abused shifters to change into human form. There were also several who’d been experimented on, and with the drugs involved, Eli—Kontra’s pack doctor—had been working long-distance with a doctor in a wolf shifter pack to figure out what was in their system and clear it so they could shift, too.

  Last Madagascar had heard, there were a number who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—change. There was a trio that had been held by a different group of witches than their bear sleuth in a sort of animal refuge that they used to make money—a gray wolf, a capybara, and a coral snake. The elephant and camel who’d been with them had shifted upon finding their mates, so everyone had hope that it would happen that way for them, too.

  Another group in Kontra’s people’s care had been at another scientist facility that they’d taken out just prior to Madagascar’s arrival. Zhaul had come from that group. Although he’d been able to shift shortly prior to their arrival—as had Able, a leopard shifter who’d mated with Olson, the owner of the Victorian home they were staying at in the bayou—several others were taking longer.

  A meerkat named Mickey had recently begun to shift just prior to meeting his mate—CIA Agent Rhone Craigson—and he’d left with Rhone the week before. After a close call, the agent had discovered who’d been leaking information to the military. Rhone had needed to return to help his boss end that source, and as his mate, Mickey had insisted on being by his side.

  There was a rhino from that group, too, and Madagascar had learned that he’d shifted just the previous day. His name was Aaron, and he didn’t stay in human f orm for long stretches, yet. The last two were a vulture and a sloth, and neither had been seen shifting so far.

  “Well, again, be careful, Mads,” Congo encouraged, patting Madagascar on his shoulder again. “Accidents can happen even with the most well-thought-out plans.”

  Madagascar would never say it, but he appreciated that Congo still worried for him, even though they were both well over a hundred years old. “I will,” he promised.

  Best laid plans of mice and men, and all that.

  After squeezing Madagascar’s neck once, Congo released him and stepped back. “It’ll be morbidly interesting to see what you all find this time,” he grumbled with a shake of his head. Then Congo turned and headed toward the back of the house.

  Madagascar silently agreed as he headed in the other direction.

  Stepping into the front yard, Madagascar paused and swept his gaze over the myriad of men preparing to leave. Kontra’s people loaded two SUVs and two box trucks with supplies. Their expressions were a mixture of anticipation, concern, and determination. Except for Payson—a hyena shifter that Madagascar knew he wasn’t alone in thinking had a few screws loose. No, Payson grinned widely and rushed about in obvious glee. Payson’s human mate, Land, however, stood on the front porch with a mixture of worry and fondness on his face.

  “You ready?” Sam asked, the big Texas-longhorn bull’s long legs quickly closing the distance between them. “Get permission from your brother?”

  While Madagascar hadn’t realized that was what he was doing, Beta Sam was right. His brother was his alpha. He hadn’t truly needed it to go, but he’d wanted it.

  “Yes, sir,” Madagascar replied.

  Sam tipped his chin in a small nod before turning and leading the way toward one of the SUVs.

  Madagascar slipped into a middle captain’s chair, his excitement ramping up.

  *

  It took every ounce of self-control Madagascar felt to keep from bouncing on his toes. He hadn’t told Congo, but Ryan had given him several shooting lessons. Even though Madagascar wouldn’t call himself a marksman, yet, he wouldn’t shoot any of his own people, either.

  Plus, Madagascar would be more liable to shift into his bear if any real problems started.

  Or I’ll stay back with Lamar, covering the peacock shifter, like Kontra and Sam instructed.

  Sam, Ryan, Lamar, and Rueben—Lamar’s human mate—were headed to the control room. Madagascar was going with them. They were supposed to keep Lamar safe as he took control of their systems.

  Of course, Madagascar had heard that Lamar was no slouch at taking care of himself. The shifter appeared fastidious and uptight, considering the way he always appeared clean and put together. Only his rough and tumble human mate managed to ruffle his feathers, and Lamar seemed happy about that.

  “Remember,” Sam reiterated, focusing on Madagascar. “Stick with the group. No one goes off alone.”

  “Yes, Beta,” Madagascar confirmed, even though that had to have been the tenth time Sam had said that.

  A second later, Madagascar knew he wasn’t the only one to hear Kontra’s deep voice ordering that they advance through his earpiece.

  Sam hefted a firearm in his right hand and the forged keycard in his left and led the way toward the secluded warehouse-like building hidden deep in the swamp. They’d already bypassed a security fence and a number of cameras. They’d just been waiting for all the other groups to get into position.

  Madagascar’s group was going through what was supposed to be a secret entrance closest to the control room. There was a guard room they would need to neutralize outside it. The barracks were on the other side of the building, so most of Kontra’s people would be going in on that side.

  Hoping their small incursion could swiftly and quietly secure the room, Madagascar followed the others through the swamp.

  After Sam swiped the card through the reader, the door beeped. Rueben opened the door. Ryan slipped through the opening, his rifle ready at his shoulder. Sam followed his mate.

  As ordered, Madagascar hurried after them, Lamar flanking him. He heard the door click behind him and knew that Rueben was at their back. They paused at a door to the left, and after Sam opened it, Ryan confirmed that it was clear.

  Madagascar had been told that the word meant the room was empty.

  They passed two more empty rooms without incident. Evidently, entering at night had been a good idea. Supposedly, that meant there would be little staff on hand, so fewer people to raise the alarm.

  Just as they reached the door with a plaque heralding Control Room, Authorized Personnel Only, a high-pitched claxon sounded through the place.

  The alarm.

  Madagascar couldn’t help wincing upon hearing the offending noise, but the others didn’t react. Instead, Sam used his keycard to try to unlock the door. It worked, the light on the panel turning green.

  Rueben yanked open the door, and Ryan swung into the opening, weapon at the ready.

  Able to see over Ryan’s shoulder, Madagascar made out two occupants—a slender guy in white sitting at a control panel and a huge, black-haired guy standing next to a bucket holding a mop. Unable to help himself, Madagascar found himself admiring the clearly shocked janitor’s heavily muscled body and lightly bronzed skin. His black brows had disappeared beneath his shaggy bangs, and his equally dark eyes were huge in his ruggedly handsome face. Even his full lips were parted, and Madagascar found himself wondering what they would taste like.

  Shit! Focus!

  Without turning from the computers, the slender guy asked, “Well? What triggered the alarm? I’m flipping through the damn screens as fast as I can, but there’s too many of the damn things.” The human continued to grouse as he kept hitting buttons.

  “We’re here to shut you down,” Ryan replied coldly.

  As the computer guy spun in his chair, gasping as he did so, the janitor dropped his mop. He reached into a pouch attached to his bucket cart. A second later, the man yanked out a gun and began lifting it, clearly intending to point it at them.

  Ryan squeezed off a round, hitting the panel directly to the left of the janitor’s head. “Don’t even think about it,” he ordered.

  The man’s fear must have intensified his scent, for it wafted over Madagascar’s senses. “Fuck,” he whispered, his bear roaring in his mind. Mine! “Please don’t hurt him.”

  While Ryan didn’t lower his rifle, he commented, “If he continues to lift that gun, I won’t have a choice.”

  At the same time, Sam asked, “Why?”

  Staring in shock at the huge man before him, Madagascar whispered in a strained voice, “He’s my mate.”

  Chapter Two

  Ishmael didn’t know who the guys were or what they were doing there. The fact that they had guns and talked about shutting down the facility meant one thing, though. The men were bad guys—people averse to scientific advancement or environmental terrorists or some shit.

  The people who’d saved Ishmael had warned him about such people—namely, Doctor Kaylie Meyer. She’d helped him so much. That was why she and the others working there had trained him on how to use a weapon. Everyone who lived and worked there had to be able to defend themselves at all times from people like these men.

  I was too slow to respond. What do I do now?

  Guilt flooded Ishmael, and he felt like a big fat failure. He’d failed those who’d saved his life, who’d helped him relearn everything, who’d given him a purpose. These men obviously wanted to stop the good work Doctor Meyer was trying to do, and he should have found a way to stop them.

  Of course, there were more of them than me, and Simon is zero help.

  A fresh wash of guilt flooded Ishmael upon his uncharitable thoughts. Sure, Simon was a total dick, but he was super smart, too. He was way smarter than Ishmael. Simon manned the computers, and Ishmael cleaned... things.

 

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