by K.N. Lee
Realizing that she was coming toward him had him finding a hiding spot in case the other werewolves returned first to finish the job. He would not risk her getting harmed on his account, but he needn’t have feared. They had truly gone, and she had hunted him down. Ironic. A human hunting a werewolf.
He snickered and then grimaced, the laughter pulling at his sore ribs.
“Who… What… How…” She shook her head, blinking several times before glancing away and then back again. He had to give her credit—she only stared at his face and nowhere else.
“Don’t forget when and why,” he joked.
The woman did not smile. She appeared to be around twenty-one, which would make her four years younger than he was.
Her gaze now on his feet, she shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it at him.
He caught it easily and held it so it covered him without touching his person. “I don’t want to get blood on it.”
“If you want me to drive you to the hospital, you’ll risk getting blood on it so it doesn’t get on my seat.” She risked a glance down the length of his body. “What happened?”
“That’s the question you wanna go with?” He gave her a lopsided grin. Teasing her helped to keep his mind from his pain.
“I asked several already, none of which you answered,” she said hotly.
“You said a bunch of words, not questions,” he countered. He winked.
Her scowl deepened. “What happened?” She fished a cell out of her tight jeans. “If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna call the police, and you can talk to them instead.”
“Wait!” Magnus held up a hand, the other holding the coat to keep himself covered. “Please don’t call. I’ll talk.”
“Well?” she asked impatiently, arms crossed, foot tapping against a rock.
“Ah… are you Team Edward or Jacob?”
“Edward or… Are you for real?” she demanded.
He fought back another snicker. If he kept this up, she was liable to pull her gun out. “You know. Twilight.”
“You read twilight?”
“Read and watched it. Kinda had to once I realized werewolves were in it.”
“Werewolves,” she repeated blankly.
“Well, yeah. Didn’t you see…”
“Of course I saw,” she snapped. “But seeing and believing…” She blinked rapidly.
He gritted his teeth and suppressed a howl. One wound in particular, a bite that almost ripped out a chunk of skin near his hip, was bleeding profusely. He needed to take it easy, but he also needed to get away from here before the other werewolves could return, possibly with reinforcements.
“Are you telling me you’re a…” She glanced around and then leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “A werewolf?”
“Believe it. Don’t believe it. I don’t care.” He took a deep breath, and his body trembled with a spasm of pain. “Can you give me a lift?”
“Where to? The hospital? A friend’s place?”
Gotta give her credit for realizing he might want to keep a low profile.
“Don’t have a friend other than you.” He attempted to smile, but he more or less only bared his teeth.
“We aren’t friends,” she said matter-of-factly. “So you aren’t going to my apartment. You really have no other place to go?”
“No. I don’t,” he said flatly. “Look, I don’t know you from Eve, but I’m in a real bind.”
Her lips finally quirked slightly into the faintest semblance of a smile. “Actually, it looks like you could use a binding.”
He relaxed as much as his tense body would allow. “Yes, please.”
But she made no move to leave for her vehicle. “Who are you? What are you? How did you—”
“The how is the only one you should be worried about. I was attacked, and if they return and see you…” He let the threat hang in the air.
She blanched. In the darkness of last night, he hadn’t gotten a good enough look at her, but she was lovely. Her dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and her eyes were a light blue shade. Not a speck of makeup touched her face, but she was a natural beauty.
“Is this some kind of game you’re playing?” She glanced around. “Are there cameras filming this?” The woman started to walk away. “Mirrors? The wolf had to have been an optical illusion.”
They might not have time, but he needed her, and if that meant reassuring her first, then he had, too.
“Where had the wolf been injured?” he asked softly.
Her eyes widened, and he knew she had already seen the proof of that.
“It’s not a game. I swear.” His words were become a little slurred, and his visions became fuzzy. What was happening to him? He had been hurt worse once before, and he had never experienced side effects like the ones this one caused.
Still, she hesitated, and could he blame her? Nope.
“I need you to protect me,” he said, or at least he tried to say it. The ground rushed up to meet his face, and he closed his eyes and knew no more.
Chapter 4
When the man—the wolf-man? the werewolf?—collapsed, Zelda knew that at least his injuries were real, even if nothing else was. It wasn’t easy, dragging an unconscious lump all the way back to her car, but somehow, someway, she managed. He was a large man—all muscle—and it did not help that her coat kept slipping away. Eventually, she rushed back to her car, grabbed two blankets out of the trunk, and returned to him, all the while praying that no one would come across them. No matter what story she spun, it would not look good for her to be seen dragging a wounded, unconscious man to her car.
The first blanket she laid down and shoved/dragged him on top of it. The second she tied around his waist so that he was definitely covered. Things were awkward enough as it was.
The entire time she dragged him and the blanket along—man, was her back killing her!—she kept thinking about how crazy this was. The guy had been attacked by people who might be nearby. He was obviously on the run.
And that wasn’t to mention the whole wolf thing.
A werewolf. A man. And a wolf.
Her research.
She paused, straightened, and stared at him. Although he was unconscious, he was faintly grimacing. Even so, the despondent look did not mar his handsomeness. His lips were full, his eyelashes impossibly long, and a five o’clock shadow dusted his chin and upper lip. Obviously not flexed, his biceps remained large, and she fleetingly wandered what it would feel like to be in his embrace. Not, she firmly told herself, that it would happen. As it was, she shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be taking him back to her place. She should leave him, call the police and an ambulance, and be on her way.
But she had been so willing to help the injured wolf, and she would have helped any animal. How could she not do the same for a man? Even a man that might shift into a wolf…
She resumed her trek with fervent vigor. Zelda was more of a so-called cardio bunny than a body builder, and was she regretting that. If she had lifted weights even three times a week instead of or in addition to her running every other day, this would have been so much easier on her.
A few feet from her car, the man groaned. His eyelids fluttered, and his silver eyes focused on her face.
Zelda aided him in standing, and he leaned heavily on her as she guided him to the door. He gingerly sat, and she tucked the blanket inside before shutting the door. She shoved the other blanket in the back and climbed behind the wheel in time to hear him chuckling.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, pausing, hand on the keys but not turning the ignition.
“You made sure I’m covered to maintain my modesty.”
Her cheeks grew fever-warm.
“Mind if I rip it?”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“For binding,” he said patiently.
She glanced over. “Are you bleeding badly?”
“It’s slowed,” he admitted. “How far away is your pl
ace?”
“Not too far.” Zelda started the car. She didn’t like the idea of him knowing where she lived, but what choice did she have? If only he was still unconscious.
Immediately, shame filled her for thinking that. Lifting him onto the seat would’ve been impossible, so it was just as well that he woke.
“If you need to, go ahead,” she said, making a left.
He said nothing, did nothing, and she realized he had passed out again.
Ten minutes later, she parked in the back of her apartment complex. As soon as she turned off the car, his eyes opened, and she figured he had only feigned sleep this time.
She helped him out of the truck and walked him to the back door. Luckily, it was Wednesday, early afternoon. Most everyone was either at class or at work. Wednesdays, she only had class from eight until ten in the morning. The rest of the day was hers.
Without much difficulty, she smuggled him into her apartment. He took the narrow six flights of stairs well—there was an elevator, but it was always in need of repair.
Inside, she winced. The place was a mess, with mail littered all over the coffee table as well as her notes, the dining room square table filled with her notes and her plate from toast that morning, and she was pretty sure she’d left her dirty clothes and towel on the floor of the bathroom.
The one room he needed most of all.
She darted forward. “Help yourself to some water if you’d like,” she called over her shoulder as she rushed into the bathroom. Yep. Clothes all over the place including underwear.
In a single grab, she gathered them and then dumped them into her bedroom. Zelda had just closed the door when he appeared, holding the only bottle of alcohol she had in the place—Sailor Jerry.
“You part pirate?” he asked, his free hand loosening the knot she’d tied in the blanket.
“You gonna wash your wounds yourself?” she blurted.
His grin was slow to form, but it grew to stretch across his face, wide and charming. His eyes, though, were oddly serious. “You’ve more than done enough. Just getting me out of there is… it was huge. Thank you.”
She nodded, not quite sure how to answer him, still uncertain that bringing him here had been the correct option.
Zelda darted out of there, closing the door for him. Back to her room she went. Hopefully an oversized t-shirt she used to sleep in and elastic waist pants would fit him. Otherwise, he’d need to use the blanket yet.
She laid the clothes outside the door and knocked. “I have some clothes for you. Might not fit.”
He didn’t respond.
“You all right?” she called.
Still no answer.
Zelda knocked on the door again.
He opened it a smidge, enough for her to see half his face. “Sorry. I was using mouth wash.”
She raised her eyebrows and handed him the clothes. “I would’ve thought your mouth and breath would be the least of yours worries.”
The man winked, and she had to admit that her stomach grew butterflies. “You never know when having minty fresh breath might be a boon.”
Zelda snorted. “Yeah. If those guys find you, maybe you can sweet talk your way out of another beating.”
His face closed up, and he shut the door. A minute later, it reopened. Her pants were way too short on him, so he rolled them up to convert them into shorts.
She motioned for him to sit on her chair at her dining room table. Yeah, she had more than one chair, but they were in the corner. Having empty seats staring at her when she ate wasn’t something she relished.
The kitchen—probably the cleanest room in the small apartment because she was a little clinical with washing dishes and preparing food—was just off the dining room area. After washing her hands at the kitchen sink, she carefully and tenderly examined his wounds.
The man had the bottle of rum and drank a long swallow. “Go ahead. Pour it on.”
She smirked. “This isn’t a fantasy novel. I do have peroxide.”
He drank more.
Giggling to herself, Zelda retrieved her first aid kit from beneath the bathroom sink. With a hand towel, she gingerly coated and rinsed out the wounds. Already they appeared to be healing fast.
Too fast.
He didn’t wince as she worked, and she hesitated, ace wrap in her hands. Slowly but visibly, the wounds were closing, new skin forming.
How was that possible?
“Go ahead,” he said.
“Go ahead what?” She shook herself out of her trance. “Sorry. I’ll bind you now.”
He touched her hand. “You can watch.”
“Watch what?” She didn’t know what to think, what to believe. Her eyes… How could she have seen a wolf turn into a man? How could any of this be real? “I have to be dreaming,” she murmured.
He shifted slightly to face her full on and cupped her face. “You aren’t dreaming,” he said softly. His deep voice was warm and soothing, and his silver eyes were mesmerizing.
But she shook her head, freeing herself. So he was handsome. He was also dangerous… and a wolf?
The man handed her the bottle. She accepted it without thinking.
“Drink,” he urged.
Zelda grimaced and then reentered the kitchen to grab two glasses. She clanged them onto the table. “I’m not a barbarian who chugs from the bottle,” she said.
Normally, she preferred to mix the rum with cherry coke, but right now, she just needed the rum.
She poured herself about a shot’s worth, but before she could lift the glass, the man grabbed the bottle and poured her more. Zelda eyed the dark amber liquid. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she demanded.
“No, but if you want to go ahead and ask me questions, you might want some to be able to accept the answers.”
On second thought… she pushed the glass away. “Maybe I need a clear head.”
He shrugged and glanced down at one of his wounds, the one near his hip. It was half the size it had been when she washed it just minutes ago.
“You didn’t need to come here,” she accused. “You could have healed in the woods.”
“I could’ve,” he admitted, “but I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. Plus…” He shifted in his seat, grimacing, and poured himself a healthy amount of rum. “I should’ve healed long before now. I think they might have poisoned their fangs or something. Damn Blood Warriors. They’ve always fought dirty.”
“Blood Warriors? Who are they? Why did they fight you? Are you really… You can’t be… I mean…” Her head swam, and she hadn’t even sipped her rum yet.
Screw this. She grabbed the glass and sipped.
“I guess I should start at the beginning.” He held out his hand.
Probably for a handshake, but she seized his wrist and twisted and turned it. It looked human enough, and she could feel his strength as he curled his fingers down to touch her.
“I’m Magnus.”
She snorted. “Magnus? That’s your name?”
“Yes. And my savior’s?”
“I didn’t save you.”
“You did,” he said quietly.
He was looking at her so intently that she pushed his hand away and sat back in her seat. Her purse was by the door, her gun inside it. Not that she felt threatened, but she wanted to feel like she could take care of herself. She was a regular at a shooting range, although she wasn’t a hunter. Her dad had owned a general store, and when she had been thirteen, he had been held up. As a result, he’d insisted that they both take shooting lessons, and for her eighteenth birthday, he bought her a gun. He’d died of a heart attack two weeks later.
“Do you want any binding? Do you need it?”
Magnus pushed back his seat and stood. “You tell me?”
She examined each wound. None them did. A few of them were completely closed over. No. Wait. The one on the back of his left shoulder.
“This one.” She touched beneath it. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
Either he was lying or he was in shock because that wound look nasty.
Zelda walked around him to see his face. “Seriously?”
“I have a high pain tolerance.”
“So it does hurt.”
“A little,” he admitted. Why? What does it look like?”
“It’s black.”
“Oozing any?”
“A little.”
“Does it smell?”
“Minty fresh,” she joked.
“Does it smell?” he repeated.
She swallowed hard, not liking his tone. “No.”
He breathed a little easier. “If you could cover it or bind it, I would appreciate it.”
“Is it poison?” Maybe it was just infected, but he seemed to know about these things. After all, it was his body, and if he didn’t want to go to the hospital to be examined, and the infection spread to his blood and caused sepsis and for him to die, that would be on him. Then again, she didn’t exactly blame him for not wanting to go to the hospital. Who knew what their tests would reveal?
“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly, “but one I’ve encountered before. It’ll heal, but it’ll take time. I was afraid it might be a different one.”
“You’ve been poisoned before?” Somehow, that wasn’t hard to believe. He seemed like trouble, and not the good kind, not like the guys in the romance novels her old roommate used to read all the time. Although she did end up finding a guy and moving in with him two months ago. Zelda never bothered to try and find another roommate. She downgraded the apartment from a two-bedroom one to a single, so she could afford the small apartment by myself. It was nice to not have to share the place with someone else, and it was especially nice because she didn’t want to have to explain Magnus.
“A long story but I said I would start at the beginning.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a werewolf. You saw.”
