by Lynn Howard
She hadn’t been fast enough.
“Call me if you need anything,” Brax’s deep voice said from the front step of Janie’s place.
“Thanks, Brax.”
Campbell glanced over in time to see the petite blonde reach up and wrap her arms around Brax’s neck, and the strangest thing happened – she got jealous.
Was that his type? Was he into tiny blondes instead of tall, angry brunettes?
And why the hell did she care?
In her rush to get her key in the lock, she dropped the damn keyring. Again.
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath as she dove for the keys and tried once again to get her door unlocked. All she wanted to do was get inside, get her injury cleaned, and lick her wounds for the next few days.
It really pissed her off that she’d have to take off at least a week before she could get back to her self-assigned role in life. How many women would disappear in that weeks’ time?
She couldn’t afford to take time off. They couldn’t afford for her to take time off.
“Ninja?” Brax called out. Why the hell did he keep calling her that? “Campbell! Hey! Hold on a second.”
Shit. She hadn’t been quick enough.
Turning and crossing her arms, she glared down at him as he climbed the first two steps and stopped. His eyes immediately went to the rip in her pants and his nostrils flared. Of course he could smell the blood. All predators had that kind of keen sense of smell.
“What?” she asked, putting as much don’t give a fuck as she could into her voice.
“What happened?” That crooked, cocky grin was nowhere to be found on his face. Concern was the only emotion she could find. Well, that and anger. But angry at who?
“Nothing.”
“I could smell the blood over there,” he said, not even bothering to pretend he was anything other than normal. “That looks like a pretty nasty cut.”
She shrugged her shoulders up, her arms still crossed as she glared down at the man she’d been obsessing over for the past two weeks.
Not that she’d ever tell him that.
“Let me take a look at it,” he said rather than asked.
But he didn’t move any closer, didn’t climb any more steps. Simply stood there staring at her, waiting for her to say one way or another.
“Look. I won’t hurt you. I won’t even touch you. But if I’m right about that wound, you got it from a…from someone like me,” he said, lowering his voice and looking around to make sure no one had overheard him. “You don’t want an infection. Because it could cause…irreversible damage.” He raised his brows as if asking her to catch on.
“I can change?” she whisper-screamed at him, dropping her arms to her side as she hobbled a step toward him. “Seriously?”
“How many times have you been scratched or bitten?”
“None. This is my first. All the other injuries were from fists or knives.”
A low, deep growl rumbled from his chest and poured from his parted lips the same time his eyes flashed a bright, luminescent green. “Someone hit you?” he asked.
But it didn’t sound like him. His voice was guttural and deeper now. As if that animal that lived inside of him was speaking.
It was spooky.
And kind of sexy.
Campbell winced at that last thought.
No. Nothing about these creatures was sexy.
She had to get that shit right out of her head.
But Brax took her facial reaction to her inner thought as a sign of pain. He took another step closer, his hand outstretched.
“Please. Let’s go inside. I won’t touch you. I promise. I’ll keep a distance away and you can show me. And I can tell you how to clean it to reduce the risk of the, uh, bacteria getting into your blood stream.”
Her eyes went wide the same time panic flooded her system. She’d take herself out before she turned into one of them.
“Fine,” she said, turning her back on Brax and sliding the key into the lock.
Wait. She’d turned her back on Brax. She’d given a Shifter her back. And she didn’t feel an ounce of fear over the fact he could easily attack her.
And now she was letting him into her house.
But that was the lesser of two evils. She’d much rather Brax be in her house then turn into some fuzzy creature. Not any fuzzy creature. A massive wolf man.
Well. Wolf woman.
Stepping through the main door, she held it open for Brax to enter, then led the way into her living room, each step more agonizing then the last.
“I can carry you,” Brax said from behind her when she took a break with each step.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
Polo sat on his haunches, his nub wagging against the floor, his tongue hanging out with joy that his momma had finally arrived.
“Shit,” she said, patting Polo on the head, then giving him the command to stand down when he instantly started growling at Brax.
“What?”
“Polo needs to go out.”
She turned and looked at the door, to Polo, then back to the door. Getting down the few stairs wouldn’t be nearly as bad as getting back up them again. But her baby had been cooped up for hours and his bladder was more than likely close to bursting.
“I’ll take him,” Brax offered, holding his hand out when Campbell picked up the dog leash.
“What?”
She couldn’t help the look on her face. Did he realize he’d offered to not only walk the hundred and thirty pound Rottie up and down the sidewalk until he relieved himself, but to bag up and carry back his enormous poo?
“I said I’ll take him.”
Campbell might not despise Brax as much as the rest of his kind, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to have a little fun at his expense.
“That would be great. Thanks,” she said, adding as much sugar as she could to her voice.
Fumbling around inside the coat closet, Campbell pulled out a bag for Polo’s business. “Make sure you don’t leave any behind or I could get a warning from the park manager.”
Brax eyed the bag, glanced down at the dog, then up to Campbell.
And then that smile she’d thought about for fourteen days appeared. “I’m being hazed. Okay. That’s cool. As long as it earns a little of your trust.”
He took the bag, waited while Campbell attached the leash, then glanced back at Campbell.
“You didn’t tell him to kill me once we’re outside, did you?” he asked. He tried to look serious, but the corners of his lips quirked up as he asked.
“No. Hurry up and bring my baby back. If you eat him, I’ll shoot you in the ass.” She tossed him the keys so he could let himself back in. She couldn’t stand the thought of her door being unlocked for even a minute.
Brax’s face turned up in a comically horrified expression before the smile returned. “Be right back. Change into some shorts so you’ll be more comfortable with me looking at your leg.”
And then he stepped out of her apartment and took her dog to relieve himself.
Moving as quickly as her torn leg would allow, Campbell went into her bedroom to change out of jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt she’d worn hunting. She slipped on a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, then pulled a hoodie over top. By the time she’d changed and hobbled back to the living room, Brax was knocking on her front door.
She’d intentionally left her door unlocked so he could let himself in when Polo was done. Limping to the door, she frowned as she opened it and stepped aside.
“You had the key.”
His head wagged side to side. “I never let myself into a woman’s home,” he said without missing a beat.
“Is that some kind of Shifter rule?” she said with a sarcastic snort as she unclipped Polo’s leash and lavished him with some love.
She straightened to find him staring at her leg.
“Have a seat. Let me take a look at that.”
He waited while she shuffled to
the wooden chair situated around a small table located off the kitchen. And kept waiting.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to know how close I’m allowed,” he said, that smile gone. He was all business now.
“Since when do you people care how close you are to a woman?”
“Do you know what I am? I mean, you act like you know something –”
“You’re a werewolf,” she said, cutting him off.
Brax’s lips quirked at the corners as he shook his head. “We’re not werewolves. This isn’t some B rated horror flick. We’re Shifters.”
“I know that.”
“How? How do you know about us?”
“Because one of your kind took someone I loved.”
The second the words were out of her mouth, Campbell wished she could suck them back between her lips. Brax looked hurt, as if she’d actually struck him.
“Ma’am, we’re not like those other people. Most Shifters aren’t. And my kind, we don’t disrespect women. Ever. And that includes making you uncomfortable with my nearness.”
“I think I like you playful better,” she admitted.
This guy, the one explaining why he hadn’t taken a step closer to her, seemed militant in his approach. As if he wasn’t allowed near her. And being as she’d witnessed firsthand what his kind could do to a human being, it confused the hell out of her.
“Oh, I’m still playful,” he said with a wink. “But I won’t make you any more afraid of me than you already are.”
“I’m not scared of you,” she admitted. And realized how true that statement really was.
She’d been nervous when she’d been out hunting and ran into him and his friends. Had feared that they’d successfully flanked her and she’d become like Caren.
But now? Nothing.
“You can come closer,” she said when he continued to stay frozen near the door.
He took a few tentative steps.
“Closer,” she said.
A few more steps.
“Cloooser,” she said and couldn’t contain the giggle.
She wasn’t sure if he was truly being cautious or if he was trying to make her laugh. He’d succeeded if the latter had been his plan.
Brax’s smile was back as he stopped within touching distance of her. Lowering onto his knees, he examined her thigh without actually touching her. His breath was warm as he leaned in closer and moved from side to side to see where the cut started and ended.
“Do you have any rubbing alcohol?”
Campbell’s eyes flew wide. “That shit will burn!” she said.
“Yeah. It’s going to hurt like a bitch. But short of amputation, it’s your best bet to keep from getting poisoned. How long ago did this happen?”
“About an hour.”
His green eyes lifted to her face. “Did you at least kick some ass?”
She smiled. She couldn’t help herself when he looked at her like that. “Hell yeah, I did.”
“That’s my girl.” He stood. “Where the stuff?”
Campbell pointed down the hallway. “First door on the right,” she said.
Watching him as he left – and ogling his firm behind encased in a pair of worn out blue jeans – Campbell tried to figure out what was going on in her own head.
That’s my girl.
Those three words sent those stupid butterflies to flight in her belly again. She shouldn’t like that feeling. She shouldn’t like him. He shouldn’t be in her house, rendering first aid to her gimpy ass.
Yet, here she was, wondering how he’d look without those jeans and hoodie on, wondering whether his eyes glowed when he was in the throes of passion.
Catching where her thoughts were roaming, Campbell brought images of Caren on the gurney when she’d had to identify her sister’s body. Her mom couldn’t do it. She’d been a mess since the day Caren had gone missing.
They’d had to hospitalize her mom for a few weeks after Caren had been found dead.
Any time she thought Brax might be a good guy, she had to remember that day. She had to remember the smell of the morgue, her sister’s ghastly pale face, her mother’s scream when Campbell confirmed it was, indeed, Caren.
Brax came back in the room with his arms loaded. Towels, wet wash cloths, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and her package of bandages were almost spilling over.
“You’ve got quite a first aid kit,” he said as he set it all on the coffee table.
“There’s more. I keep some on my bike, too,” she said then mentally cursed herself.
She was supposed to be acting indifferent toward Brax. Instead, she found herself wanting to hear him speak again. His voice made her freaking toes curl against the carpet.
“Alright. Can you lift up a little so I can slide the towel under you? Don’t want to ruin your pretty couch.”
Campbell wrinkled her nose at Brax as she lifted her butt and waited as Brax situated the towel. The couch wasn’t pretty. It was obnoxiously girly with the pink floral patterns. But it had been Caren’s. And she hadn’t wanted to get rid of anything that her sister had touched.
Not to mention she hated furniture shopping.
Brax was gentle as he wiped the dried blood from her thigh and calf. And then he gave her a sad smile. “You ready?” She nodded once. “I’ll go as fast as I can. But it’s still going to hurt.”
“I know. Just do it.” She’d rather saw her own leg off then become a Shifter. A little sting from alcohol was worth it.
He poured the alcohol onto the jagged, open wound slowly, wincing when Campbell hissed through her teeth then gripped two handfuls of the couch cushions.
Then he lowered his head and blew hard and fast on the wound, easing a little of the pain. Only a little. She was right; that had burned like a bitch.
“Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry,” he said over and over between attempts at extinguishing the fire that had to be burning in her skin. Because that’s how it felt, like he’d lit her leg on fire.
Eventually, though, the burn receded to a dull throb.
Brax finished cleaning her leg the best he could, put some antibacterial cream across the gash, then applied a bandage. He’d done all that without ever donning gloves.
“How do you know I don’t have hepatitis?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“Can’t catch it, anyway,” he said with a small smile. He looked like he was scared to say much or smile too much for fear of making her mad when she was in pain. “Do you have pain killers? Tylenol, maybe?”
She jerked her head toward her bedroom. “Top drawer of my nightstand.”
Brax stood, looked in the direction of her bedroom, then back down to her. “You don’t mind if I go in there?”
Holy shit. She totally just gave him the green light to enter her sanctuary, the most intimate of rooms.
Then again, he’d just had his head within inches of her crotch and hadn’t even glanced in that direction. He’d barely even touched her other than to clean her up and apply the white strips across the gash in her thigh.
“Yeah. Go ahead,” she said with a shrug.
Brax’s lips went into a thin line as he once again looked from the bedroom to Campbell, then back again.
“Oh my god! It’s just a bedroom. There isn’t a stripper pole or anything back there. Just piles of clothes everywhere. And they won’t bite you.”
That smile. That megawatt smile was back as he looked down at Campbell. “You’re really funny.”
And then he headed down the hall. Campbell could hear her nightstand drawer slide open, could hear as Brax rummaged around inside, then heard him head back into the living room.
“Funny, but a slob,” he teased as he poured some tabs into her hand.
He headed into the kitchen and brought back a glass of tap water.
“I can get you some real pain killers if you need.”
“Nah,” she said, then tossed back the tablets, drinking half the glass in one go. “They make me high an
d then I feel hungover for days after.”
“Lightweight, huh?” he said.
Brax lowered onto the coffee table directly across from Campbell and she finally got a good look at him. His eyes were a mossy green, but also had some brown flecks in them. He had impossibly long, dark eyelashes, at least two days’ stubble on his ridiculously masculine jaw, and lips that begged to be kissed. There was a faint scar over his right brow. His hair was tied back in a man bun, but instead of looking silly like some guys, it gave him an extra push toward sexy.
All in all, Brax was one hell of a good-looking man.
“What?” he asked, his dark brows pulling together a tad. Just enough to cause the tiniest crease behind them.
Even frowning in confusion, Brax was hot.
“Nothing. Thinking,” she said quickly. A little too quickly. Because a wry smile stretched across his face.
“Then why are you staring at me?”
Campbell sniffed and raised her head. “Guess I’m trying to figure out why an animal would help me.”
His smile dropped so fast his ears moved.
And now she felt like an asshole.
She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but dammit, he was making her feel things she not only had no right to feel but didn’t want to feel.
He was confusing her, making her doubt herself and everything she’d thought and felt for the last year.
“Well then,” he said, clapping his hands on his knees before standing. “Time for me to go. Trash cans to root through, hydrants to piss on. Hope you feel better, Ninja,” he said as he crossed the room and stepped out of her house, never looking back at her once.
Shit. Not what she’d intended to happen.
But she also hadn’t planned on getting her leg ripped to shreds, either.
And she sure as hell hadn’t planned on letting a Shifter into her home to nurse her back to health.
She could’ve been poisoned by that asshole in the woods. Had she simply cleaned it out and bandaged it, she might’ve turned into one of them.
So, in a way, it was a good thing Brax happened to be around when he did. Not that she’d ever admit that to him.
Campbell’s leg throbbed. The Tylenol hadn’t kicked in yet. Even when it did, it wouldn’t do much.
