Next went the boots. Normally, he didn’t have to bother with clothes when he transformed, but he intended to go down in human form and use the wolf to drag them up. No need to inadvertently clip the old woman, and his toes might better grip the sides.
Venn inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. “Okay, here I come. Close your eyes and protect yourself in case any dirt falls.” As he lowered his body into the well, a board snapped, raining a shower of debris. He caught the largest chunk before it dropped and threw it up onto the ground. With solid, economical movements, he worked his way down, moving feet and hands inch by inch.
His biceps bulged, but he wasn’t fatigued. He glanced below, then rotated to the right in order to take position for the remainder of the decline. It wouldn’t do to land on the women and crush them. With legs extended to equal the width of the well, he tested the next section of wall with his toes. Promptly, his feet slid and fell away. Shit, the stuff was like grease.
He heaved a breath of stale, musty air mixed with determination. Willpower.
He jabbed footholds into each sidewall and then followed with his hands. He pushed with everything he had. The muscles in his neck and shoulders, thighs, calves, and abs strained.
“This is no picnic,” he growled at the slick walls. Then he methodically inched downward one piercing toehold after another. Slipping. Gouging. Fighting.
He forced control to the very last moment. When his feet sank at the bottom, a groan formed in his chest. He had to steel himself from wrapping Emma in his arms as enthusiastically as he desired. With control, he hugged Emma and kissed her face and lips. She was okay. He breathed deeply. The muck oozed around his feet like quicksand. Every movement sucked him down.
She moaned, and they pulled apart. “You are terrific,” she whispered.
He crouched to check the coat Emma had fixed around her grandmother, tugging at the sleeves to make sure they were tight enough and using the belt to create a kind of sling. “Your grandmother probably benefited from being unconscious.”
“Take her up first,” Emma implored.
“Yes, I agree, that’s the best way to do this. Then I’ll come back down for you.”
In the narrow space, he and Emma brushed arms, their bodies touched hip to hip, chest to breast. But he didn’t have the luxury of actually enjoying the closeness. He lifted the old woman’s limp body and tested the sling’s hold.
Good. Secure.
Satisfied, he positioned it over his shoulder so she hugged his back. Emma helped get her settled. She didn’t weigh much, but that wasn’t the point. Getting just himself out of this place would be a near impossible feat, and rescuing someone… There was only one possible way.
He placed a palm on her upper arm. “Emma, you know how you do special things with your hands? Well, I have a few tricks of my own. In order to get you out I’m going to have change and use those powers.” He paused. “I’m going to have to shape-shift…into a wolf. Don’t be alarmed. You can even close your eyes if you want.”
She nodded, despite the surprise on her face. “It doesn’t matter what you have to do. Just get us out.”
He lifted her chin with his knuckle, proud of her bravery, and brushed his lips across hers. “I’ll be back,” he promised.
On three long breaths he hyper extended his lungs and summoned the change.
The atoms in his body dilated, hyperactive, and converted to energy, then reshaped. He sensed her plastering herself back against the wall.
His long, sharp lupine claws released, and he dug them deep into the clay walls. With grappling hook strength he climbed, dragging them up with his front paws, supporting with his back, concentrating, ascending one painful half-foot at a time.
His belly pressed to the wall. There was barely enough room for the both of them, but that worked to his advantage. Yet he didn’t dare use his weight against the elderly woman to wedge them in, for fear of crushing her delicate bones.
It seemed an eternity before his front paws hit topsoil.
Four more brutal steps and they were free. A deep growl built in his chest, burned his throat, and whooshed over bared teeth.
He gently rolled Mrs. Grant from his back onto the damp earth.
Panting as if he’d run a marathon, he watched the unconscious woman, unable to hear her vital signs over his own labored breathing.
After a second, he changed back into a man to repeat the process with Emma. With the narrow walls, it was the easier way.
* * *
Emma held her breath a lot while Venn, as a wolf, hauled her grandmother out of the well. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard, for so long, she thought her chest might bruise.
“Move back against the wall,” he instructed when he reached the top. Even though she couldn’t see him, she knew by his words he must’ve changed forms again. “I’ll be coming down faster this time.”
She did as he said, and the second descent turned more into a jump than a climb. He barely touched the walls, using them only to control his position so that he wouldn’t land on her. He dropped in front of her with a splash, but also with amazing control.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s alive. We’ll need to get her to the hospital.”
“Thank you.” She held his face between her hands and ran her thumb over his cheek bone, trying to take in what had just happened. “You were magnificent.”
“Do you think you can hold on to my back as I climb up?”
Even with the dim light in the well, she could make out his golden eyes searching hers. “Yes,” she said.
“Good.” He turned. “Lace your hands around my neck and interlock them.”
She did, feeling her breasts against his back.
“Now lift your legs and wrap them around me.”
If they weren’t in this horrible predicament, this would’ve been fun, she noted. He helped her into position by reaching around with his hand and scooting her ass higher.
“Okay, when I turn into a wolf, don’t be shocked by how it feels. Unlike your grandmother, you’re going to know exactly what’s going on.” He paused, as if preparing himself or gathering his control. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding peculiar in her ears. Maybe it was that the well absorbed the sound. Or maybe it was a tinge of fear. She didn’t have but a heartbeat to wonder about it before Venn’s body began to shift. One minute she held on to a man, the next a wolf. Massive, firm muscles moved against her arms and chest and belly as he leaped up, climbing, climbing, climbing.
A whimper had built in her throat, but she forced it down, and air filled her lungs like a billow when she buried her face in his pelt of thick gray fur and held on tight. So tight. The wolf’s feet slid down the walls a few feet. She stifled a gasp and slammed her eyes shut.
A blast of cool air hit her and she knew they must be at the top. She looked up when she felt him stop, and it took her a minute to realize she could dismount from his back. She slid to the ground and her legs gave way, landing her on her bottom.
Grams? She looked sideways and found her grandmother still wrapped in Venn’s coat. She sighed in relief.
Her eyes blurred. No. It wasn’t her vision; it was the wolf. His fur shimmered and sparkled, a million diamond particles. Like a Star Trek transporter scene, except…except instead of completely disappearing the wolf changed into a man.
Venn.
“Holy shit.” She blinked, hard. The extent of its impossibility hadn’t hit her fully until that moment as her adrenaline began to lower and she got a good look at him. One minute Venn was a wolf, the next human? How was that possible?
It wasn’t.
Hysteria warred with common sense.
His golden eyes fixed on her. “Emma…” His voice sounded strained, hoarse.
“That’s not… People can’t do that.”
“Don’t panic. I’ll explain later.” Thankfully, he didn’t advance. “Right now, we need to get your grandmother to the hospital.
That’s our first priority.”
It took several long moments before his words penetrated her thick skull and stupor. Heart thumping against her sternum, her gaze shifted to the woman on the ground.
“We need to get some dry blankets,” he said.
Her feet wouldn’t move, though, not until he said her name again. Numbly, she padded forward to help him with her grandmother. Together, they repositioned Venn’s coat and wrapped the frail woman who was so dear to her heart.
Minutes earlier, he’d been a wolf. Unbelievable. Just like in her visions and dreams.
Finished, he bent and gently lifted and cradled Grams.
“Are you okay? Can you make it on your own?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m just so worried about Grams.”
She followed him to the house, staring at his broad-shouldered back, recalling what he’d felt like as a wolf. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come,” she said. “Who knows how long a rescue would have taken… It’s a good thing you could get her out… I was going to ask you to call a friend.”
She was babbling.
He looked at her and gave a small smile of understanding, and she quieted. “Let’s take my car,” he said. “The keys are still in it.”
She nodded and opened the back door for him to put Grams in.
“Do you want to run grab a couple changes of clothes for you both to change into at the hospital?” he asked.
She took in her muddy, clay-covered clothes. “Excellent idea.”
Inside the house, she grabbed a few things straight from the laundry pile. At least they were dry. Then she searched for Grams’s warming pads—flannel bags filled with rice that would warm her on the drive. Emma dug a couple out of the cabinet and popped them in the microwave. While they heated, she ran upstairs to grab her and her grandmother’s purses, plus a blanket.
When she got to the Explorer, Venn sat behind the wheel, waiting. She slid in, giving him a faint smile and glancing back to see how Grams was faring. As he primed the ignition, she raised to her knees, leaned over the seat, and positioned the warmers in the folds of the blanket. It wasn’t near enough to do much good, but it was something.
She sat back in her seat and fell into the silence of the drive. She desperately needed things to occupy her, because she kept seeing Venn’s conversion over and over again in her imagination. She couldn’t believe she was sitting there as if she hadn’t seen such a bizarre transformation.
She stared out the window at the varying landscape, her palms sweating. She wiped them on her jeans, brushing wet globs of dirt to the floor. She tugged at her hair next, not actually caring about the mess she presented but because she couldn’t sit still.
She bit her tongue, assuring herself it was more important to concentrate on her grandmother’s welfare, than to flee this man’s—er, creature’s?—presence. But then her mind settled. He had saved them. No matter what he was, he had been there for her. And her heart warmed with thankful appreciation. The rest of it didn’t matter, did it?
They pulled into the hospital parking lot sooner than she expected. The emergency sign winked before her eyes, then the SUV lurched to a stop. Venn climbed out of the Explorer before she flipped the door handle. He gently pulled her grandmother from the vehicle, and a minute later he was tromping through the sliding doors. All big, demanding, and in charge.
Emma was extremely grateful. She wouldn’t have been able to handle this alone.
From the moment he stepped through the door, he snapped orders at nurses like an emergency room pro on an ER TV show. But this was backwoods Georgia, not big-time New York. Still, the personnel listened and reacted as he spit out Grams’s pulse, blood pressure, and temperature. The numbers couldn’t possibly be accurate, though; he hadn’t used a blood pressure cuff or thermometer. She couldn’t see the harm in misleading them, though, if it jump-started them into action.
Moments later, Emma and Venn stood in the corner of a small room with the curtains drawn as hospital staff hooked her grandmother to machines. The slow beep beep of the monitor bled over the sound of shuffling feet, clang of metal as something hit the bed, and rumble of voices as the nurses called out stats.
Emma stared at the action in dismay and disbelief, fighting mind-numbing bewilderment. Every one of the figures Venn had quoted was too close for comfort. But how could he have known?
And could someone live with a BP of seventy over thirty-two?
Vaguely aware that Venn had slipped a strong arm about her shoulders, she leaned into him. “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Her voice sounded distant even to her.
“Can you give this nice lady some information?” he prodded gently. “How old is your grandmother?”
Emma turned her head. A woman with brown hair twisted in a bun and Admissions written on her name tag waited with a pen poised above a clipboard, all sympathetic eyes.
“Eighty-five.” Taking a deep breath, Emma pulled herself together and answered the woman’s questions. Venn’s hand traveled up and down her arm as she did so, a subtle reminder of his presence and strength that surprisingly comforted her.
“Good, that’s it for now,” the woman said. “All I need is a signature.”
Venn let go of her, and the sterile smell of the hospital hit her as she signed the paper.
As the woman left, a doctor entered. He studied Grams’s chart, examined her head, and flashed a light in her nonresponsive eyes before stepping away from the bed. “So, what’s the story?” He clasped his hands behind his back.
Emma bristled. What an odd way to phrase it.
She cleared her throat. “I don’t know how she got there but I found her at the bottom of an old well,” she explained. “She’s been unconscious for at least two hours now.” She glanced at Venn. A muscle throbbed in his sternly set jaw. She lost her concentration, paused.
Was he annoyed or worried? Did he think she would tell the good doctor exactly how her grandmother had gotten out of that well?
She blinked rapidly, then focused on the doctor and resumed the telling.
CHAPTER TEN
That she might spill his split identity didn’t concern Venn. The tale would be deemed preposterous. But listening to Emma explain what happened made it clear to him that Io had his hand in this. Or claws, as the case may be.
The idea chilled him. And worse, Emma remained clueless of the danger, which made him more determined than ever to stay with her and make sure she remained safe.
“Will she be all right?” Emma asked the doctor, her shaky voice tugging his heart.
“I can’t say until we’ve done more tests.”
Using his keen senses, Venn read the vital signs of Claire Grant better than the machines connected to her. Her condition was grave, and she hung on by a thread. But was it one made of cotton twine or fifty-pound monofilament?
He met the doctor’s gaze, which revealed concern beneath his practiced physician’s smile.
“Obviously, we’ll admit her,” he went on. “Why don’t you get comfortable in the waiting room?” The doctor turned his attention to the nurse and began to give instructions.
Emma seemed frozen in place, staring at the bed. With his hand at the small of her back, Venn guided her out of the room. “I could use some strong coffee. How ’bout you?”
He sought out a private corner in the waiting room. She sat and shivered.
“I’ll be right back,” he told her.
He got two cups of coffee with fixings and stopped at the reception desk to check in, leaving their names and patient info. “Do you have a spare blanket?” he asked as the volunteer smiled pleasantly.
“I’ll check.” She dipped into a room and returned with a thin white flannel draped over an arm.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“No problem.” A pink blush eclipsed her unease as her eyes met his, then quickly looked away. The poor woman didn’t know what to make of him. Most women didn’t.
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Walking back to Emma, the tan walls pushed in on him. What if Claire Grant died? He’d always liked the gutsy lady. She spoke her mind and didn’t back down in a fight. Emma would be devastated if the worst happened.
He set the coffee on the table next to her. “I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee, so I brought a bit of everything—sugar, Splenda, creamer.” He shook the blanket. “And this.”
He wrapped it around her shoulders and grinned inwardly at the soft purr that escaped her lips. “Mmm. It’s warm. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” And it was. He liked taking care of her, watching over her. “Sugar?”
“Yes. And creamer.”
After fixing her coffee, he sat. His bones chafed as he stretched his legs out. A lingering effect from his changing, a shape-shifter’s arthritis. Like other miracles of life, transubstantiation had its side effects. Kind of like the pain of childbirth: you didn’t get the miracle of birth without the pain. And while the shift itself didn’t hurt, there were other issues he certainly had to contend with.
* * *
Emma drew the blanket tighter around her. Venn’s kindness added to an oppressive weight to the one already settled in her chest. Pressure built behind her eyes and she fought the spill of tears.
Anger would have pushed them back. Fear would have dammed the ducts. But at his thoughtfulness, her mouth quivered. She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, closed her eyes, and conjured the memory of him turning from wolf to man, drawing on the absurd to stifle the downpour that was imminent.
She slowly drew air into her lungs and held it, unwilling to let go. Predominantly because once the floodgates opened, they’d be impossible to control. And she’d learned long ago, to her embarrassment, she didn’t cry sweetly or quietly.
The strategy worked, though her eyes burned with unshed tears. She swallowed. In her mind’s eye, the wolf formed, dragging her grandmother from the hole. The animal turned his head, his eyes a living kaleidoscope of gold and burnished mahogany.
Why she went back to that moment, she couldn’t say. What made the mind choose one thought over another wasn’t something she was privy to.
Awakening Fire: The Divine Tree Guardians (The Divine Tree Guardians Series Book 1) Page 10
