Heart of the Winter Wolf
Page 22
Thick branches slapped at the windshield, cracked it. Books and packages on the seat flew up and struck her as the vehicle lurched and bounced crazily. She saw the dark surface of a creek in her headlights, then glittering plumes of water all around her as she struggled to steer through it. A roaring filled her ears, her brain. There was no time to hope that the water wasn't too deep, to pray that the engine would keep going. And no time at all to react as the darkness in front of her suddenly resolved itself into a tree. It was the last picture in her mind as something enormous punched her full in the face.
Awareness faded then rushed back like a tidal surge. Heavy folds of white material swamped her, and Jillian screamed as she tried to bat it away. The air was thick with dust, choking her. Finally her brain kicked in and she realized she was fighting with the air bag.
Her whole body jellied in relief, and she was grateful she was already sitting down. For a several minutes Jillian just sat there with her hands gripping the wheel. She took a deep breath that sent her into a coughing fit. When it abated, she hit the button to roll down the window and leaned forward to rest her head on the steering column and let the cool air wash over her until her heart stopped hammering. Until she felt steady. Steadier. Well, almost steady.
Looking around, she assessed the situation. Truck. Tree. Water. She was half in and half out of the shallow creek, the front of the truck resting against a large poplar on the opposite bank. The hood didn't look bashed in from here. Maybe the vehicle was still drivable. Maybe she could walk the truck out in four-wheel drive. But first she'd have to lock the hubs on the front axle by hand. "Note to self: Next time, pick a vehicle you can shift into four-wheel drive from the inside." Jillian popped the shoulder belt and spent a few minutes fumbling behind the seat for a flashlight. It was hard work. Her body was sore and her face felt like she'd tried to stop a train with it. One of her hands didn't seem to work very well. She cursed repeatedly as new pains flashed here and there, as her feet kept getting tangled in the deflated air bag. There seemed to be enough of the sagging white material to make a goddamn hot air balloon.
She kicked free of it and paused to catch her breath. "Okay, then, I'm okay. Everything's okay. Let's get it done." Jillian swung open the door, saw it skim the surface of the water but didn't hesitate to jump down. She gasped at the iciness of the water, as the fast current both shoved and pulled at her. It had to be mountain runoff. It felt like it came straight off a glacier. Reaching for the door with one hand and gripping the flashlight with the other, she took a step forward. And discovered too late that the bottom of the creek was slick with mud and algae.
Without warning, her feet flew out from under her, plunging her beneath the icy water. The current immediately dragged her along the bottom. Panicked, Jillian clawed and flailed at the dark surface--the creek couldn't have been more than three feet deep--but there was something in her way, something she kept banging her head and body against, that kept her submerged. Her lungs were screaming, her mind was screaming as she fought blindly for her life.
Then something grasped her arm, gripped it tight. She fought that, too, but it was strong and towed her along the icy bottom, then up into the blessed, blessed air. A moment later she was on her hands and knees on dry ground, coughing and choking and puking up water.
It took a little while before she became aware that someone had an arm around her waist, supporting her, pounding her back. Jillian gulped in air in huge, ragged breaths and collapsed, her strength utterly spent. Powerful arms encircled her, lifted her, cradled her in warmth.
"It's okay, doc. You're okay now. It's over, just breathe now, baby. Just breathe."
With a jolt she realized she was sobbing like a child. Embarrassed, she scrubbed a hand over her face and yelped when both hand and face protested. Opening her eyes she found herself face to face with a Viking.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Chapter Twenty-Three
Her voice was strangled and raw--not to mention annoyed--but it sounded terrific to him. Carefully he pushed her dripping blonde hair away from her face, brushed the water from around her wide green eyes. "Jesus, doc, you scared the hell out of me. The next time you want to go diving for pearls, take some equipment."
"I ... I couldn't get out, I couldn't get out of the water, something was holding me under." She tried to push him away but started coughing again. When she regained her breath, she simply sagged against him, exhausted.
Keeping her in his lap, James shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it snug around her. It was just as wet as she was, but it would keep the breeze off her. "You were underneath the truck, doc. The water's up to the running boards, and you must have kept trying to come up under the chassis." Christ, she must have been terrified. It had certainly terrified him. In wolfen form he'd raced full out, crossing the miles as the crow flies, utilizing all the speed a Changeling was capable of--and then some. Not knowing what was wrong, only that there was danger and he must hurry. The compulsion whipped him mercilessly, drove him to a near-impossible pace until his heart was ready to burst. Just as it was the night he'd raced to Evelyn's side. Past and present had blurred in James' mind as he ran, overlapped. Fear that he might be too late had clamped icy jaws around his throat, making it harder to breathe even as his lungs burned for air.
Thankfully, whatever connection the wolf had with Jillian had led him straight to her. James had caught her scent as he crested the hill, followed the wide swath of freshly broken brush leading down the ditch and into the creek. He spotted the truck when he was halfway down the slope, was relieved to see Jillian open the door. Then relief turned to horror as she stepped out into the water and slipped beneath it. He Changed as he leapt into the creek, splashed and skidded on his hands and knees in the dark icy water, as he felt around frantically for something, anything, he could grab.
With a start, James realized he was shaking almost as much as Jillian. He pulled her closer, tucked her head under his chin and simply held on. Grateful he was sitting down, grateful to have her gathered in his lap and wrapped tightly against him. Safe. He drew her scent into his lungs, again and again, each time holding it there, close to his heart. Listened to her breathing, listened to her heart beating, the rhythms of life, her life. He rubbed his cheek over her wet hair as powerful emotions shook him to the core. Dear God, he had been in time. He had been in time.
James radiated his Changeling body heat to warm her as much as he could. Finally, with shaking subsided and both of them steadier, he relaxed his hold on her, but not before he brushed his lips over her brow, her head. The sudden taste and tang of blood jolted him, reminded him that Jillian might be alive but she needed more than affection to stay that way. "Keep this on, okay?" He tucked his jacket around her tightly, waited until she nodded. "I'll be right back."
He waded out to the truck. A check of the ignition revealed that the battery was dead. So was the radio. There was a cell phone on the floor but it was in pieces. James took a quick look around the cab for anything else useful, then made his way to the back of the truck. Here he had more luck. The canopy had kept the cargo dry, and he had no trouble finding matches and supplies, blessed his brother's name for them. There was no shortage of blankets and clothing either, the preparations of a vet who had made too many farm calls in bad weather.
There was dead willow along the bank and James worked fast to gather an armful and coax a fire into life. The flames gobbled the twigs and dried grass greedily, moved on to the larger bits of wood without a pause. He set a duffle bag on the ground beside Jillian and knelt to study her in the firelight. The orange glow should have lent color to her face but instead she was paper-white. Trickles of blood had emerged from her hairline, merged into a single rivulet that ran steadily down the side of her face. Her green eyes were wide, too wide, the pupils dilated even though she was looking straight at the flames. Not good, not good at all, he thought. "Take your clothes off."
"What?" She looked startled.
"What for? Why can't you just take me home?"
"I don't have a vehicle with me, Jillian." Please, God, don't let her ask any questions. I can't exactly say I ran here. He rushed on before she could say anything. "Your truck is out of commission, and we're a hell of a long way from town. The radio's out. I don't have a cell phone, and yours is broken. We could be here a while, so you need to be warm and dry. Step one is to take off those wet clothes."
As she opened her mouth to protest, James simply picked her up and placed her on her feet. Steadied her. "You don't get a choice here, Jillian. You're not thinking straight. Hypothermia is dangerous, and I'm betting you've got a concussion, as well."
He had removed his jacket from her shoulders, taken off her jacket and was starting on her shirt when her temper flared and she backed up a step, fists clenched.
"Don't touch me." Jillian flung the words at him like stones. "Just don't. I don't know what kind of privileges you think you have, but undressing me isn't one of them."
That momentary flicker in her eyes, temper mixed with something very like humiliation, cut him to the core. Guilt roughened his voice. "This isn't the time, Jillian. You want to go a few rounds with me, fine, you can have all the free swings you want later. Right now we need to take care of you."
"I can take care of myself just fine, thank you."
He didn't want to fight with her. He raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, praying he wasn't making a mistake. "Suit yourself. But if you're not peeled out of those soggy clothes in five minutes, I'll do it whether you want me to or not." He meant it. Saw her eyes flash but her anger was a bonus--it would keep her adrenaline up, and God knew she needed it. "You've almost died once tonight, doc, and I'm not about to let you try for twice." He yanked out a big flannel shirt, some jeans, and a wool blanket and placed them on top of the bag for her. He pulled out an outfit for himself and stalked to the other side of the fire, keeping his back turned to give her some privacy. Besides, if he didn't look at her, maybe he could concentrate. He had to keep trying to contact Connor or some other member of the Pack. It was a long shot, literally, to succeed at mind speech over such a distance. But there was little traffic on this road, even less at this time of night, and it was miles to the nearest farm to get help. True, he could Change again and cover the distance on four feet, but he would have to leave Jillian alone--and that he didn't dare do.
Suddenly he felt a connection. It was odd--as if his mental call were a fish and someone was reeling it in. That someone couldn't be a Changeling, the energy was different. Birkie!
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jillian kept an eye on James. At first it was to guard the privacy she'd insisted on, but unexpectedly she found herself staring. The campfire glow highlighted his powerful build, the angles of his face. Even naked, he looked like a warrior and it annoyed her that she found that so appealing, that it played on some sensitive primal nerve within her. That she flat-out wanted him ....
She forced herself to look away then. How could she still want James Macleod after he had slept with her, then ditched her? It's just a physical thing, she told herself sternly, a knee-jerk reaction she had no control over. But who knew the desire would be so strong? And worse, that her heart would be tangled up in it, as well? Because here it was three weeks later, and she was still missing him. They hadn't even dated, didn't even have a relationship to speak of, and yet she missed him constantly. And just as constantly told herself that it was silly infatuation, that she needed to get out more. She needed to meet more people. She needed a hobby. She needed to date more. She watched James zipping up his jeans on the other side of the fire and wished she had the nerve to walk over and unzip them. Her core clenched hard. See, she told herself, just plain old physical attraction. So why did her heart feel like it had a hole in it?
"I must have hit my head," she muttered under her breath. After all, her head did hurt an awful lot. So did everything else, for that matter. Jillian's stomach muscles were sore inside and out from retching up water. Her ribs felt bruised from trying to expel the fluid from her lungs. There was a bright fiery pain starting to make itself known in her arm, her hands. James had said she was under the truck. That was ridiculous. She didn't remember getting out of the truck. And where did all the water come from? There were headlights, lots of lights, blinding her ... but she found she could remember nothing else.
She forgot all about James then, too. Her hands were numb and sore at the same time--which she couldn't understand--and her body was cold and awkward. Except her arm, and that was on fire. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably as she fought with wet fabric. She cursed the buttons as they defied her efforts. Her anger gave way to frustration, and then nearly to tears. She couldn't think. She was so damned tired, and her fingers would not obey her. Jillian was only mildly surprised when her legs suddenly gave out. Barely noticed when strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.
"I think I must have slipped," she murmured. Something was fluttering at her cheek, patting it lightly. She tried to brush it away but her arm hurt.
"Come on, doc, I know you're tired but you need to wake up for a while. Wake up for me, Jillian."
"Quit it. Go away," she moaned and turned her head away, but a large hand cupped her cheek.
"Jillian! Wake up now."
"What the hell are you doing?" Her voice was raspy. She tried to sit up and a tight groan of pain escaped her.
"Easy there, doc. You passed out. It's my fault. I didn't realize how bad you were hurt." Gently James helped her into a more upright position. "Just take it easy for a few minutes, okay?"
"Yeah, okay." She was too tired and sore to argue, too confused to think. It all took energy, and she didn't seem to have any. Jillian let herself lean back against him, was surprised that his body heat seemed to be flowing right into her. There was a fire at her feet, but she could swear there was almost as much warmth radiating from James. In spite of all the pains that were competing for her attention, she felt almost cozy in this big Viking's lap.
Those warm and cozy feelings were short-lived as the Viking proceeded to inspect her scalp. "Ow, dammit!"
"Got a couple of cuts here might need stitches. You're bleeding quite a bit, but head wounds always do. My younger brother Devlin cut his head open when we were little and I thought he was going to die, there was so much blood everywhere. Scared me. But two stitches were all it needed. He turned around and walloped me with a stick not twenty minutes later so I needed three stitches myself. Luckily Mom was pretty good at it."
"You are not going to stitch--" Jillian fought with the blanket to get an arm free. Although her temper lent her a few drops of adrenaline, the blanket nearly won. She was surprised to find her right arm bandaged and splinted from palm to elbow, surprised too to find her hands battered and bleeding, knuckles and nails fairly singing with pain. Was even more startled to find she was naked under the blanket. "Where the hell are my clothes, you goddamn pervert? I'm sure I told you not to touch me."
"You certainly did, so I guess your short-term memory's intact. Saves me from having to ask you what day it is and all that shit. Maybe the concussion isn't too bad."
"I don't have a concussion. And you're not going to stitch anything. And I want my clothes back."
"Settle down before you hurt yourself more. I wouldn't think of taking a needle and thread to you, doc. Connor's got plenty of adhesive closures in the first aid kit."
She struggled anyway. "I don't care. Just let go of me. I want my clothes and I want you to leave me alone." She'd made it out of his lap, was trying to clutch the blanket around her with her battered fingers and stand up at the same time. If only she wasn't so damn dizzy. Suddenly James was kneeling in front of her with his powerful hands on her shoulders. Jillian's temper flared, thinking he was trying to restrain her. Then a glimmer of sense kicked in, and she realized he was actu
ally holding her up.
"Easy there, doc. You almost passed out again."
"I did not." She said it without heat however. She suddenly didn't have the energy left to argue and breathe at the same time.
"Jesus Murphy, woman," he muttered and steadied her as she sat heavily on the ground. James grabbed a corner of the blanket and tucked it more firmly around her. He sat back on his heels and waited until she glared up at him. "Look, Jillian, help's coming but it's going to take a while for it to get here. I know I'm not your first choice of rescuer right now, but you're stuck with me. You're mad as hell, and you've got damn good reason to be, but now isn't the time to fight about it. You're injured."
"I'm fine."
"That so? Guess I splinted your wrist for nothing then. And what about this?" He pressed her left collarbone with a finger, and she yelped in spite of herself.
"That hurt, you bastard."
"It ought to. You're purple from chin to shoulder on that side. I'd be surprised if it's not broken, too. You get into a fight with someone?"
"No, why--ow!" She tried to swat his hand away from where he was carefully poking at her cheekbone.
"I'm certain your face was a different shape when I last saw you. I'd say there's some swelling going on here. Definitely a lot of bruising."
"Goddamn air bag went off in the truck," she muttered, wishing he'd stop staring at her.
His eyebrows shot up. "The air bag did that? I thought they were supposed to protect people, not beat them up." James reached for the top of her head then, and she flinched before he'd even made contact. He withdrew his hand without touching her. "Okay, enough with the show and tell. I was just going to point out that your head's cut in at least two different places, possibly three. Worse than that, I have to say I don't like the way you're coherent one minute and confused the next. You're a doctor for God's sake. You know you're injured. At the very least we need to stop the bleeding. Now will you please let me help you?"