by Amy Pennza
The heat grew and grew, distracting her from her bizarre physical reaction. This was far more intense than any healing she’d experienced in the past. Sweat trickled down her back. A harsh, labored sound reached her.
Bard’s lips were parted. Every breath was a pant. He tightened his grasp on her skull, his fingertips digging into her scalp.
All at once, fire bolted through her skull. The sensation was fast and intense and it took her breath away. Her vision blurred, then exploded in a rush of stars. Heat seared her face, the rush so fierce it ruffled her hair.
Just as soon as it arrived, the feeling fled. She gasped. Bard released her head, and her upper body fell back against the pillows.
He slumped, too, one hand going out for support. His palm landed on her thigh with a light slapping sound.
She froze.
He froze.
Their gazes locked.
Time stood still. Heat radiated from his hand, through the blanket and hospital gown, and into her skin.
Was he always that warm?
He snatched his hand back and stood. “No. Only when I used my Gift.”
Confusion swept her—then she realized she’d spoken out loud. Like a dork. Good grief, could she be any more awkward? On the other hand, her question had broken the strange spell that had descended over them.
“How do you feel?” Bard asked.
Just like that, he was back to the cool, professional version of himself, the strange connection between them severed.
She suppressed a shiver. Funny . . . she'd been so hot a minute ago. Now she was cold.
His gaze sharpened. “Haley?”
“Good.” The word jumped from her mouth without her brain being on board. As soon as she said it, however, she realized it was true. The ache in the back of her head was gone, along with the racing heartbeat. “Better than good, actually.”
He nodded. “Your clothes are here.” He went to the curtain and ducked around it. There was a crinkling sound, then he reappeared with a clear plastic bag in hand. He returned to the end of her bed and placed the bag near her feet. “Do you need help getting dressed?”
Her pulse jumped. Help? As in, help from him? “N-No. Wait. Am I leaving?”
“We,” he said. “We are leaving. My shift is over, and I’m exhausted. More importantly, we need to get you out of the hospital before the next shift goes on the clock and people start asking questions. My protection only extends so far.”
Right. Because he wasn’t the Alpha in this place. He was just another employee. An authority figure, sure, but still just one worker among many.
Once again, bewilderment crept over her. How did a dominant werewolf hide his true nature? Humans had their own pecking orders, but their social structure was entirely different from the rigid confines of werewolf life.
He gestured toward the bag. “Get changed. I’ll turn my back.”
Whoa. What? He wanted to stay in the room? “I said I don’t need any help.”
“I’m not going to help.”
“I’m fine on my own. You can go . . . do something.”
He folded his arms, and the black eyebrow went up. “Miss Michaels, in the past twelve hours, you had a cardiac arrest, erratic blood pressure, and a concussion. I’m not letting you ambulate for the first time alone.”
She lifted her chin. “I feel like you’re using big words just to intimidate me.”
“What word didn’t make sense?”
“Ambulate.”
“It means to move around, which is not something you should be doing on your own.”
“You healed me. I’m fine now.”
“I’m not leaving this room.”
“Then I’m not getting dressed.”
His nostrils flared, and he dropped his voice to a growl. “I’ll dress you myself if I have to.”
Heat entered her cheeks. “I’ll scream.” She tossed her head toward the curtain. “All those humans will come running.”
His good eye narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Her blood pumped faster, and some impish demon on her shoulder made her reckless. “I’ll have you know that I have something of a reputation for being stubborn and insubordinate.”
He unfolded his arms and leaned toward her a little. And when he spoke, heat curled around his voice, darkening the edges. “Then your Alpha should have turned you over his knee.”
Words stuck in her throat. Any snappy response she might have given shriveled and died, her bravado washed away by the very real image of an irate Bard Bennett forcing her over his thighs and bringing one of those big palms down on her ass.
Heat rippled through her, but this time it wasn’t anywhere near her face.
This time it unfurled low in her belly, making her press her thighs together. Hard.
What the actual fu—
She drew in a sharp breath, giving her head a little shake to banish the scandalous image from her brain.
What had they been talking about? She cleared her throat. “M-Max doesn’t do that sort of thing.”
Do you? The question leaped into her thoughts.
And heaven help her, she wanted to know the answer.
He held her stare for a second, then muttered, “I’ll wait behind the curtain.” Before she could reply, he’d whirled and disappeared, leaving only the waving curtain in his wake.
She released an unsteady breath. What the hell just happened? Was this some kind of aftermath of the healing? It had to be. There was no other explanation for her body’s weird reaction.
That had to be it. He said her heart stopped, and that restarting it had drained him. It must have taken a lot of juice for him to Heal her concussion. Besides, didn’t Lizette always say healing was an intimate thing? Healers poured their own energy into the wolves they helped.
A little voice in her head whispered, “That doesn’t explain his comment about spankings.”
“Not gonna think about that,” she said under her breath.
“Miss Michaels?” Bard’s voice drifted from the curtain.
“I’m fine!” She flung the blanket back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Someone had put a pair of those fuzzy hospital socks on her. Bard?
Oh god, had he seen her naked? She pulled the hospital gown away from her chest and looked down. She still wore her bra and underwear—a shell pink set Lily had given her as an early birthday present.
Relief coursed through her. If he’d undressed her, he hadn’t seen much.
And I’m not giving him another reason to. She pulled the gown over her head and tossed it on the bed before grabbing the plastic bag and dumping her clothes on the rumpled sheet.
Ordinarily, nudity didn’t bother her. Like most wolves, she stripped down before she Turned. Living at the Lodge meant seeing her fellow pack members in the buff on a regular basis. But it was different when relationships were involved.
Not that she was in a relationship with Bard.
She bit her lower lip as she pulled on the thin camisole she’d worn under her button-down. Yeah, no way was she even remotely interested in him. It was absurd to even contemplate it.
And he certainly wasn’t interested in her. He was probably going to drive her straight from the hospital to the airport. He’d made it clear he wanted her gone.
Her hands trembled, and a wave of dizziness swept her. Clearly, Bard hadn’t exaggerated about the seriousness of her injuries.
Thank goodness I finally made the Turn. If she’d been a latent, she probably wouldn’t have survived.
“Miss Michaels?”
She jumped at Bard’s voice. “One second!”
Hands shaking, she tried to button her shirt—only to realize half the buttons were missing. What the hell? She stared at the two halves of her shirt for a second before giving up and grabbing her jeans. The tank top was thin, but it covered everything.
More dizziness assailed her, and she leaned against the bed as she pulled on her jeans, her he
ad swimming. As she laced up her boots, Bard ducked around the curtain.
Her heart jumped, and she straightened. “You could have knocked.”
“On the curtain?”
She didn’t bother hiding her scowl.
His gaze moved over her face, and his good eye narrowed. “Your heart’s racing. Sit down for a second.”
“I’m fine.”
Now he scowled. “Miss Michaels—”
“Is there a bathroom?”
“Do you need to go?”
Okay, she was not discussing toilet activities with this man. She tamped down her irritation. “Does it matter?”
He gave her an assessing look. “Your body’s been through a lot of trauma. You’re as pale as the sheets on that bed. The last thing you need is to pass out and crack your head on a hospital sink.”
Was he suggesting he’d accompany her to the bathroom? Somehow, she stopped herself from grinding her teeth. “I need a mirror.”
His gaze raked her. “You look fine.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it. At some point, he’d slipped back into Alpha mode. Something told her that arguing with him would be unproductive.
Especially after that spanking comment.
Blood rushed into her cheeks. She turned away, breaking eye contact as she used her fingers to comb her hair back from her face. First order of business as soon as she was reunited with her luggage? Finding a hair band. Without one, the best she could do was pull her curls into a ponytail at her nape and wrap a piece of hair around it—a trick she’d mastered after dozens of training sessions with the guys at the Lodge.
When she finished, she spoke as she faced him again. “Okay, I’m—” She was brought up short by the look on his face.
It was . . . softer. Almost dazed. Then he gave his head a small shake as if to clear it. “We, ah, have about fifteen minutes until shift change. You can use the restroom, Miss Michaels.”
“It’s fine.” Some of the blood returned to her cheeks. “I don’t have to go.”
“You’re dehydrated.” His frown told her he didn’t like it. He turned and went through the curtain. A second later, he reemerged pushing a wheelchair. “Get in.”
“What?” She stared at it. “I can walk.”
He straightened, then brushed the halves of his lab coat back and rested his fingertips on his hips. “You, Haley Michaels the werewolf, can. But everyone in this hospital thinks you’re Haley Michaels the human.” He leveled a no-nonsense look at her. “We have to make sure it stays that way.”
A sigh built in her chest.
“Believe me,” he said, “I’m already going to raise eyebrows by taking you home so soon.”
She pushed the sigh back. “Could you get in trouble for this?”
He shrugged. “It’s a risk I have to take. The longer you’re here, the greater the chance of exposure for both of us.”
Fifteen minutes. That wasn’t much time. All her life, she’d been cautioned about humans. Werewolves might be faster and stronger, but humans had numbers. They always had. And through the centuries they’d proved they were willing to hunt and kill anything they deemed other.
Bard saved her life. She couldn’t put his in jeopardy over something as silly as a wheelchair ride.
She walked to the chair and sat.
“Thank you,” he murmured above her.
She tensed, trying to detect sarcasm in his voice. But there wasn’t any. At least she didn’t think so. Considering how quickly he shifted moods, it was almost impossible to tell.
Did he do it on purpose to keep her off balance?
Her thoughts fled as he backed the chair up, then spun it in a slow arc and wheeled her past the curtain and into a darkened entryway with a tiny bathroom to the left and a wide door straight ahead. He stopped the chair and skirted around her, limping to the door and propping it open.
“Your leg,” she said, half rising from the chair. “You shouldn’t be pushing me.”
He turned and waved her back down. “I’ll manage.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” he said, his voice clipped. He circled the chair once more and started pushing, effectively ending her protests. They went through the door and into a bright hallway lined with doors identical to the one they’d just passed through. The floors and ceiling were an impersonal, sterile white, and plastic file holders hung outside each room, some with manila folders tucked inside.
Haley lowered her voice. “It’s quiet for an emergency room.”
Bard replied in the same low tone. “Not for long. The nurses’ station is just ahead.”
He wheeled her around a corner, revealing a tall counter bustling with activity. Various beeping sounds filled the air, along with the clack of computer keys and the buzz of several different voices.
Bard leaned down, putting his mouth at her ear. “Just so you know, I told the staff you’re my niece.”
Shock bolted through her. His niece? She turned her head to ask why the hell he’d done that, but he withdrew before she could say anything. As they approached the station, he pushed her faster, making a breeze tickle her hair.
They were almost past the tall white counter when a woman called, “Doctor Bennett?”
Bard froze.
The nurse Anna bustled around the counter, her gaze going to Haley before jumping higher as she addressed Bard. “You’re moving her?”
“Discharging her.”
“But she—”
“Hates hospitals.” Bard’s hand landed on Haley’s shoulder. “Remember that time you got your tonsils out?”
Haley swallowed. Humans can’t smell lies. “Um, yeah. I . . . hated it.”
Bard’s low chuckle seemed to vibrate her chest. “She threw such a fit, you could hear her in the hospital lobby.” He squeezed her shoulder.
In warning? Or was it reassurance?
He kept talking. “Haley has a bit of a phobia when it comes to hospitals.”
Sympathy filled Anna’s eyes as she lowered her gaze to Haley’s. “Really? Today must have been frightening for you.”
Haley nodded her head. “Mm hmm.”
“Well.” Anna lifted her shoulders. “You’re fortunate your uncle’s an ER doc. If anyone can manage your care at home, he can.”
Haley nodded again. But Anna seemed to be waiting for a response, so she added, “Oh yes, Uncle Bard has always been there for us.”
Anna beamed.
Haley didn’t dare swivel to look in Bard’s direction. There was enough tension radiating off him to power a nuclear reactor.
“Plus,” Anna said, “I saw in your chart you have a big birthday coming up. You don’t want to spend it here.”
“Definitely not.”
Anna tossed a good-natured look in Bard’s direction. “Maybe you two can celebrate together, considering your Uncle’s birthday is in a couple weeks.”
Bard spoke, his tone laced with warning. “Anna—”
“Although maybe that’s a bad idea,” Anna said. She winked at Haley and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “He didn’t handle turning forty very well last year.”
Haley jerked as surprise rippled through her. Forty? He was forty years old?
Before he could speak, a door to the left opened and a woman in scrubs and a lab coat stuck her head out. Her gaze zeroed in on Bard right away.
“Bard! I thought I heard you out here.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Could you take a look at him? I closed up, but I’m a little worried about the blood supply to the tissue on his nose.”
It took Bard a moment to answer. Haley held her breath.
The woman tilted her head, making the silver parts of the stethoscope around her neck catch the fluorescent light. “Bard?”
“Coming.” He gave Haley’s shoulder another squeeze, then rounded the wheelchair. He stopped at her side and slanted her an inscrutable look. “Wait here. I’ll just be a moment.”
She raised an eyebrow. Where did he
think she might go? She was in a hospital full of humans. It wasn’t like she was about to go mingle in the cafeteria.
He seemed to get her message, because his jaw tightened before he turned and followed the woman into the room.
Anna the nurse watched them go, then looked down at Haley. “He really is a wonderful doctor.” Whatever else she might have said was interrupted by a series of chimes that seemed to come from an intercom system overhead. She sighed and muttered “duty calls” before running a harried look over Haley. “Will you be okay out here? Doctor Bennett should only be a minute.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Anna smiled and offered a friendly wave before heading down the hall. After half a dozen steps, she turned and called, “Happy early birthday!”
Haley raised her voice. “Thanks.”
Anna gave another wave before continuing down the hallway. As soon as she was out of sight, Haley released a slow breath as shock whirled through her mind.
Bard was forty? Holy shit, he really could be her uncle.
Or her dad.
Murmured voices drifted from the room he and the woman had entered. The door was open just enough to form a sliver of light on the floor. With a quick look at the nurses’ station, Haley used her feet to propel the wheelchair closer. She crept forward until she was even with the jamb. With the door ajar, she could see half of the room.
Bard stood next to a bed similar to the one she just left, the plastic railing flanked by various blinking and beeping machines. He was bent over, his gloved hands tilting a man’s face toward a big light attached to a metal stand.
Haley leaned forward, straining to see more. As the man’s head came into view, she suppressed a gasp. White bandages circled his forehead and wrapped under his chin. More bandages covered his nose, which was flanked by two black eyes. Either he was a boxer who had a bad night, or he’d been in a serious accident.
“Tip looks good,” Bard murmured, pressing a gloved finger against the side of the man’s nose. “But I’d like John to take a look at it.” Bard released the man’s face and added, “He’s our plastic surgeon.”
The man groaned. “How much will that cost?”
It was hard to make out Bard’s expression in profile, but there was a smile in his voice as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them in a bin. “I’m not sure, but trust me when I say you don’t want to end up looking like me.”
