“What? Not a chance!” There was no way. Okay. So maybe hottie with the scarred torso over there was a werewolf. And maybe so was Sheppard. But not me.
“It’s true,” Jonathan said softly.
“Thank you, Jonathan,” Sheppard said, his tone clearly meant to quiet any more comments from Jonathan. “Go get Kaylah for me, would you?”
“Sure,” he said, ducking his head as he left the room.
“You are a werewolf, Lynn,” Sheppard said. “The sooner you can make peace with that, the better.”
I rolled my eyes. Maybe only one of them rolled. The other ached bad enough that I couldn’t tell if my eye had actually moved. “Sure I am.” But the cold chill on my spine and the pit in my stomach told me that I was simply lying to myself. I couldn’t pinpoint or explain how on Earth I knew it, but I could feel the truth of his words. I believed him.
“I have already proven to you that werewolves are real.” He leaned closer to me and dropped his voice to conspiratorial tones. “I can prove that you’re one too, you know.”
His golden-brown eyes bored into mine, making me uncomfortable, but I fought the urge to look away.
“How many have been in this room today before you woke up?”
“Four.” I answered without even thinking.
Sheppard raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”
That was a good question. I frowned and picked at my thoughts. “I...smelled that they were here.”
Sheppard crossed his arms in satisfaction and sat down in the chair.
I scrunched up my face. “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Let's say I believe you—since I'm clearly in no condition to argue the point. How is that even possible? I should be dead, shouldn’t I? I mean, if it wasn't for the other,” I eyed Sheppard, “wolf that jumped in, I'd be lunch meat.”
Did these guys save me? Why did I feel so safe here?
“That’s how it works. A bite from a werewolf isn’t enough. It has to almost kill you to get the werewolf healing to kick in.” His expression turned somber. “Trust me. There was a point there in which you stopped breathing.”
Holy shit. He was serious. And—somehow—I could feel that he wasn’t lying.
A waify woman with long platinum-blonde hair and crystal blue eyes came into the room holding two plates of steak and potatoes. She smelled sweet and faintly of flowers. My mouth watered at the sight of the food; I may have thought my stomach couldn't handle it, but God, was I ever hungry. She handed one of the plates to Sheppard and gingerly placed the other on my lap. As I shoved two large pieces of potato in my mouth with the fork, she crinkled her nose and eyed me.
“Those bandages need changin',” she said with a southern drawl that was thick as molasses in the winter. “You'd best eat up quick t’ give yerself some fuel.”
Sheppard nodded. “Kaylah's right, you've got an awful lot of healing to do and less than a week to get it done.”
I nearly choked on the piece of steak I was chewing on. If I didn’t die from the pain suffusing throughout my body, I was going to die from choking on stupid bits of food and beverage while they all enjoyed their little werewolf game. “A week?!” I knew that both my right leg and left wrist were broken, there was zero chance they'd be healed in a week.
“Five days to the next full moon,” Sheppard said. “The legends and stories get that part right at least. It's the full moon that pulls the change from you. . . at least the first time.”
My plate was empty. How was my plate empty? Kaylah gently took it from my lap.
“I'll be back with more, hun. Don't look so disappointed, there's plenty where that came from.” With a wink at me, she left the room.
A clock ticked from somewhere within the house and I looked to Sheppard. “So, this is your house.” I am a stunning conversationalist, just ask me.
His smile was gentle. “This is my home. Also known as pack central. We usually have at least three wolves in residence here aside from me, and everyone is welcome.”
“Everyone in your pack at least,” I guessed.
“And some,” he made a vague gesture in my direction, “who are not. The world at large isn't ready for werewolves. We are very much still creatures that go bump in the night.” He stood, empty plate and dirty fork in hand. “Which is why you couldn’t go to a hospital. They wouldn’t know what to do with your recovery.” He crossed the room to leave, “I suspect you'll want some privacy while Kaylah helps you with those bandages.”
I let out a breath and relaxed back into the pillows.
A dark-haired head poked into the room, and amused green eyes met mine. “Kind of a lot to take in,” Jonathan said, stepping into the room. He now had a black shirt on with a skull and crossbones on it along with the jeans from earlier.
I pulled the blanket up to cover more of my body as I realized the wet metal I was smelling was me and all the bloody bandages.
“No kidding,” I agreed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. I tried to pull my feet up and over to give him room, but only managed to wiggle one foot a little in the direction I wanted. It hurt. I winced.
The right corner of his mouth quirked up. It gave me butterflies. Dammit. “It’s a wonder you can move at all. I saw you when Matt and Sheppard brought you in. You were definitely lunch meat then.”
I frowned.
“But you’ve come a long way in just a couple of days,” he said. “For what it's worth, I think you'll be fine.”
My not-swollen eye threatened to bug out of my head. “A couple of days?” Good lord, that can’t be true.
Jonathan nodded. “They brought you in around midday the day before last.”
I mouthed 'day before last' and lifted the blanket and sheet to look at my mangled body. The sweatpants and tank top I wore wearing were not mine, but they both had bloodstains that matched where my injuries were underneath them. Who had changed my clothes? Did it matter if I was next to death?
Sheppard’s words echoed in my head. ‘There was a point there in which you stopped breathing.’
Oh my god. Did I really almost die? I met his eyes again. “Oh sure,” I said. “I'll be just fine.” Why are all the hot ones crazy?
Jonathan gave me an impish smile. “What’s really gonna get your goat is how fast you’ll heal after your first change. We’re just this side of bulletproof, y’know.” He waggled an eyebrow and his voice dropped to conspiratorial tones. “Besides, this pack is a sausage fest, you gotta be just fine!”
“JONATHAN!” Kaylah was back with so much steak and potatoes I wasn't sure how she managed to get it all onto the plate, and I was certain there was no way it was all going to fit in my belly.
Jonathan flinched and winked at me. Turning to Kaylah he shrugged as he stood. “I'm just saying, Kaylah. You and Chastity both have mates. That leaves four of us out in the cold.”
The sound that came out of me was more snerk than laugh, but even that sent ripples of pain throughout my body. Biting down on another groan, I closed my eyes and took slow breaths until it subsided. “It’s alright,” I managed. “At least he hasn't tried to grab my ass.”
“Yet.” Jonathan grinned. “Mostly because you’re laying on it. But also, because it was probably run through a meat grinder.” He pointed a finger at me, wiggling it up and down. “Like the rest of you.”
“Enough!” Kaylah exclaimed. “Git!” She mimed kicking him as he hurried out the door, stealing a potato off my plate as he went. Rolling her eyes, she smiled at me. “He's a joker, but he's got a heart of gold. Our pack just wouldn't be the same without him and his brother Jamie.” She handed the plate to me. “Go on an' eat up. We'll change your bandages as soon as you’re done and then it'll be more rest for you lil' lady.”
I shoved potatoes and bits of steak in my mouth as she went in and out of the room gathering washcloths, bandages, cortisone cream, and alcohol. The more she gathered, the more I was sure that every single bit of what was coming was going to make me wish that thing had just k
illed me instead. As I shoved the last couple of bites into my mouth, she disappeared again and came back carrying a mug of something that smelled sweet and bitter all at once. It overpowered everything except the wet metallic smell of my wounds. She placed the mug on the table next to the bed.
“Unfortunately, there ain’t a painkiller out there that works worth a damn fer us.” She nodded at the tea. “But that’ll help afterward.” She shut the door to the room. “You got all a them wolves on edge with all a yer bleedin'.” She took the plate from me and set it on the table next to the bed.
“They'd mostly prefer to tear me up than see me get better?”
“Gracious no!” Her genuine shock caught me off guard. “Sheppard named you pack, girl, whether you take it or leave it, and pack looks out for each other. Good night where'd you get such a cockamamie idea?!”
Maybe it was all the books and stories that portray werewolves as hyper-violent creatures. But if Kaylah and Jonathan and Sheppard were all werewolves, those stories were far from the truth of things. And why shouldn’t they be? They’re just made up stories, aren’t they? But how much of it was true?
Deft hands started unwrapping the bandages on my leg. Some of the gauze stuck to the underlying wounds and I bit my lip, wincing.
Don’t scream. Just don’t scream. Keep breathing. That’s it. Air in. Air out.
Kaylah unwound another bandage from the worst of the wounds on my leg. Pain shot up my leg and through the rest of my body. I tasted blood in my mouth from biting down so hard on my lip.
Kaylah clucked her tongue and looked at me disapprovingly. She thrust a wad of gauze at my face. “Bite down on that or you won't have any lip left by the time I'm done wit' ya.”
I did as she said.
“Now, sure those wolves ain't all gonna love ya just 'cause Sheppard tells them to, but they're all pretty friendly once you get t’ know ‘em.”
Another bandage free and I bit harder on the gauze. It soaked up the saliva in my mouth, and the wad was so big I had to breathe hard through my nose to keep from passing out.
She worked quickly to get all of the bandages off, but it was the scrubbing of the tender fresh wounds underneath that really made me realize I had no idea what pain I was capable of surviving. Blackness loomed at the edges of my vision, but each time Kaylah had another quip to add about one of the wolves. I'll admit that I didn't catch a word of what she said, but her southern drawl bit through the worst of the pain. It distracted me enough from her work, but my conscious mind retained none of it.
Then it was done, and she handed me the mug of strange tea. It was warm as it slid into my belly. She slipped from the room with a bag full of dirty bandages destined for the trash.
“There's lots of books out there about werewolves and vampires,” I blurted out when she returned. “They tend to be some of my favorites.” Rambling counts as conversation, right? “They make for a great escape from a world that's just a little too real when you're eating cups of noodles three times a day because your rent just ate your entire paycheck.”
Sheppard appeared in the doorway, his football player-like frame took up almost the entire space. “Those books get quite a bit wrong.” There was something about the tone of his voice—something he wasn’t saying.
“Let me guess. The vampires are real.” I tried to make it sound like a question; I doubt I succeeded.
He smiled softly and nodded. “And they outnumber us ten to one easy.”
Kaylah sat in the chair next to the bed as he stepped into the room.
I took another sip of tea. Tense muscles I didn't know existed began to relax as the throbbing subsided. “Why?”
Sheppard shrugged. “Not many survive an attack like you went through. And if they manage to, well, they’re so bad off, they don’t survive the first change. Even fewer are born a wolf.”
“And makin' a vamp ain't nearly so hard as makin' a wolf,” Kaylah added. “Just takes an exchange of blood.”
“Wait,” I said. “You can be born a werewolf?!” Not many of the books I'd read mentioned that sort of thing.
Sheppard's entire demeanor changed. The very air in the room felt charged with something I couldn't even begin to describe. “I was.”
I took a sip of my drink and became very interested in what the inside of my mug looked like. The hazy orange-yellow tea swirled in my mug, my own reflection distorting on the surface of the liquid.
“Get some rest,” he said. “We'll talk more tomorrow.”
I drained the last bit of tea. Kaylah took the mug from me as I relaxed back into the pillows. Something here felt right—felt true. Unlike the invading blackness from before, a different sort of peaceful darkness overtook me, floating me away from consciousness.
THREE
DAYLIGHT STREAMED IN through my window when I woke again. My arm and leg still ached, but most of the other injuries didn't hurt anymore. Blinking a few times, I rubbed my eyes, momentarily surprised that they were both normal. No swelling. As I sat up, everything pulled tight and itched a little, but the itch was bearable and was followed by only a dull throbbing ache. I looked around the room. The chair was still next to the bed and a glass of water sat on the bedside table. I drained half the glass as voices drifted from elsewhere in the house.
A gruff male voice exclaimed, “I'm just not taking everyone else in there, leaving one of our own wounded and bedridden here!”
It sounded like they were in a large room downstairs. I frowned. Were they talking about me?
“She shouldn't be wounded and bedridden! You were supposed to keep her safe!” I was relatively certain that was Jonathan, and—by the sound of it—he was pacing around.
I huffed out a breath. The bedridden part was going to change. Despite the splint tightly wrapped against my right thigh and another wrapped against my left forearm, I took a deep breath and swung my legs off the bed. Using the chair for support, I put weight on my one good leg. It held.
“Don't start in on that,” the gruff man warned. “Crazed wolves are damn near impossible to predict, aside from the rampant violence they cause, and I'd been tracking that one for days.”
I started hobble-hopping across the plush carpet, using the chair and walls for support as I moved toward the door.
Jonathan was still moving around as he spoke. “And then you found a cave with three caged wolves. We have to do something about them!”
As I reached the door out to the hallway, I realized that making it that far had been the easy part. I was on the second floor of the house.
“I'm not saying we don't,” the gruff one agreed. “I'm just saying that we have to plan it out. Those cages are up front in a cave with walls covered in blood. Wolf blood. It'll be hard enough to concentrate as it is. There could be any number of anythings beyond that front cavern—including swarms of vampires. There’s just no way to tell with all the wolf blood, and there is simply no way that I'm taking a newly turned pup who can't even walk in there without a plan!”
I winced at the thought of trying to make my way down the stairs, but I wasn't staying in bed any longer. It was only a step or two to the top of the stairs, and since the living room had vaulted ceilings, I could see Jonathan and the man with the scarred face squared off downstairs.
“Hey,” Jonathan said, an immediate shift in the tone of his voice and his body language. “Check it out. Four days later and she's up and moving!”
A smile lit up his entire face. Probably half of Colorado too. He moved to the stairs, probably with the intention of helping me down. Great. I tried not to roll my eyes.
The banister was on my left. Leaning heavily against the wall to my right, I tried to get down a single step. I basically had to hop, but I did it. Four days? It was just two yesterday? Had I really lost a whole extra day? When I tried the next step, my heel caught just the edge and I skidded down the next handful of stairs before I caught myself on the railing, bumping both my injured arm and leg in the process. Grunting, I bit my lip to
stifle crying out.
Jonathan was first into my field of view, green eyes filled with concern. He wore an olive-green shirt with loose-fit blue jeans. He nodded to scar-face. “You're right though Matt,” he said, sweeping me into his arms like you read about in all those silly romance novels. “She's not ready for anything really.”
I sighed and pursed my lips. I'm no damsel in distress. Being careful of my injured arm and leg, he stepped down one step.
“I can walk,” I grumbled. “I just misjudged that step.”
After the next step, Jonathan made a face and put me down. I resumed leaning against the wall.
“Alright,” he said quietly, stepping down the next step and turning to face me. “Then we'll take a different approach.”
Matt regarded me with one brown eye and one milky one. The scars on his face ran from the hairline down into his burgundy shirt. He jammed his fists into the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts. “Four days until the full moon,” he said, his flip-flops clacking as he walked toward the stairs. “Here's to hoping that's enough time.”
Jonathan stepped in between me and the wall, looping an arm around my waist and pulling my side firmly against him. “Let's go.” He smelled woodsy and almost electric, like a forest after a thunderstorm.
Putting weight on him, we hobbled down the rest of the stairs to the landing, which sat on an angle to the left, facing a sizable living room filled with the sturdy sort of furniture you can't get at that Swedish import store. The stone fireplace on the far wall was unlit and clean of ashes. The clock on the mantel told me it was just about noon. Well, at least I was well-rested. What was presumably the front door to the house was to my right.
As Jonathan helped me to sit on the landing, Sheppard rounded a corner and came into the room. I felt something shimmer through me as he said firmly, “we are not making a move on the cave until after the moon.”
Matt and Jonathan each turned their heads down and away from Sheppard. So did I. Why did I do that? Two of those energy bars you take on hikes appeared on my lap. I looked up to see Sheppard towering over me.
A Place to Run (Trials of the Blood Book 1) Page 3
