by Jane Jamison
“Oh, shit!” She dropped the gun and raced to his side. Blood flowed down the front of his left leg and his face was contorted in pain. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to shoot you.”
He scowled then closed his eyes and grimaced. “Well, you did a damn fine job of it anyway.”
“Actually I’m a lousy shot. I was trying to shoot you in the chest.” She hurried back, grabbed her backpack, yanked it open, then pulled out her knife.
“Hey, hold up.” He grabbed her wrist. Yet instead of hurting her, his touch sent a sizzle racing up her arm, through her torso, and straight into her pussy.
Oh, my word. He feels fucking amazing.
She’d never experienced a reaction like that. Not even with men she’d found attractive. It was as though his entire body was filled with electricity and he’d just scorched her—in a very stimulating way—from the inside out.
Could it be the connection?
She sniffed, drawing in his scent. Confusion struck her.
Naw. It can’t be. He’s human. Getting the connection with a human isn’t possible. Not for me, anyway.
Yet the surge of lust rocking her said it was as real as the sun above them. If that wasn’t the result of the bond between mates, then she wasn’t sure she could withstand the real connection.
“If you’re going to try and finish me off, I’d rather you shoot me than cut my throat.”
She rolled her eyes and jerked her hand free. “I need to get to the wound.” She paused until he nodded, signaling that it was all right for her to continue. She took the hem of his jean leg, drove the knife into the denim, then tore the material apart from the hem to an inch above his knee.
Dark hair covered a strong leg, and if the situation had been anything other than what it was, she would’ve liked to have run her palm over the firm leg. The wound was still oozing blood.
“It looks like a flesh wound, is all.”
“Oh, is that all?” His green eyes reminded her of a deep moss against a tree. “You seem disappointed. I’m sorry you didn’t get a bigger hole. I’ll try to hold still next time so you can get a better shot.”
He was gorgeous and he turned her on like crazy. But was he always such a jerk? “You know what I meant. Now stay still and let me get a bandage going.”
She hadn’t brought many clothes with her, preferring to keep her backpack as light as possible for travel. Digging inside it, she pulled out her favorite white shirt. She folded it up into a large square, and once satisfied that it would suit the purpose, she pushed it against his leg.
“Hold this and apply pressure.”
“I know what to do.”
If only he’d keep his mouth shut. “Great. Then stop bitching about things and do it.”
“Look, you—”
The one finger she flashed in front of his face had him slamming his mouth shut. She was willing to bet his mother had done the same thing to him. She’d obviously trained him well.
Taking the rest of her shirt, she folded it again, this time making it a long strip instead of a square. Although red had already colored most of the first bandage, the flow seemed to be slowing down. She wrapped the long strip around his leg, then tightened it.
“Shit! Watch it.”
“I’m doing the best I can. Man up, will you? Or would you rather bleed out while we wait for the cavalry to arrive?” She was surprised that she sounded calmer than she felt. A lot calmer.
“Don’t push me, girl. I’ve already shown great restraint in not tearing off your head.”
Trouble was, he looked strong enough to do it. Even if he was human.
“Here. Add another strip to help keep it in place.” He yanked his shirt open, letting the buttons fly, then pulled it off.
It was just a man’s chest like so many she’d seen before. But then again, his was so much more. Her mouth first dried up then saliva flowed with the need to slide her tongue from the bottom of his throat down to his navel.
She was surprised her hands didn’t shake as she tore a length from his shirt and added it to the first wrapping.
“Do you think you can walk?”
“I’ll walk, all right. If only to get away from you.”
She feigned hurt. “Ow. Bull’s-eye to the heart, big guy.”
When he saw that she was joking, he relaxed his hard expression then mumbled something under his breath that she couldn’t hear.
“Wha’d you say?”
“Never mind. I’m going to need a little help.”
“Fine. I’ll be glad to let you lean on me if that’s what you need.”
“You’re so kind.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone.
She ignored it. After all, she was the one to blame for his predicament. “So? It’s good now?”
“Good? Are you fucking kidding me?”
He glared at her with those amazing sparkling green eyes. If they hadn’t held so much anger, she would’ve found them intriguing, even seductive. With the front of his shirt gone, she got a really good look at the rock-hard stomach. He was wide chested with dark chest hairs that made their way down from between his pecs to the belt buckle and hinted at more to come below the waist of his jeans.
She swallowed, suddenly overcome with lust. If he wasn’t bleeding, she might’ve done something about it. Exactly what, she wasn’t sure. It sucked being a virgin at her age. “I meant are you good to try and put your weight on it?”
“I’ll have to be. I don’t have a lot of other options.”
“Unless you want me to go for help.”
He laughed. She could imagine that his laugh would be sexy as hell when it wasn’t tinged with anger.
The muscles in his jaw worked, and as though he couldn’t hold it back any longer, he vented. “Why the hell did you shoot me anyway?”
She hated when anyone yelled at her, even if they had every right to do so. “Stop shouting at me. I’m sorry, okay?”
“Okay?” He sat up with her help. “Are you for real? Is it okay, you ask? Oh, sure. No problem. A hole in my leg is exactly what I needed.”
She grumbled, hating his tone, but knowing she deserved every bit of her anger. “It could’ve been a hole in your head, you know.”
“You’re still making excuses? Girl, you are one fucked-up mess.”
She turned him loose, letting him fall back as she stood up. He let out a curse then glared up at her. “There’s no reason for you to talk to me that way.”
“You fucking shot me!”
“Yeah, well, you’re right about that. But still, it’s not that big a deal. It only grazed your leg. If you’d just shift, I wouldn’t have to listen to all your ruckus.” She wasn’t going to tell him that she knew he was a human. She wanted to see what he’d say. What was a human doing living in a town filled with werewolves anyway?
Those gorgeous green eyes narrowed at her. “Shift? As in shift like a werewolf?”
“Yeah. Of course. You live here, right? In Forever?”
He scowled at her even harder. “What’s that got to do with it?”
“Then you’re a werewolf, aren’t you? Forever’s a town of shifters, right?” If she gave just enough information, then he’d take her bait and confirm what she’d heard about the town.
“Darlin’”—his tone dropped lower, sexier, but still with a healthy dose of fury in it—“not everyone in Forever is a werewolf.”
She had, in fact, heard that all the residents were one kind of supernatural being or another, primarily werewolves. But she hadn’t heard that they had humans living there, too. “Then if you’re not a werewolf, what are you?”
Maybe he wasn’t totally human. Maybe he was part fairy or warlock. That would be interesting. She’d never met one of those supernaturals.
He closed his eyes only to reopen them. Was it her imagination or did he seem a little less furious?
“Sorry to disappoint you, darlin’, but I’m all human, through and through.”
There it was. Damn. If she’d gotte
n that fact wrong, how much more of what she’d heard was off? “Are there more of you? Humans, I mean?”
“Yeah, a few. Just check with the Census Bureau. We tend to be fairly big on populating the planet.” He pushed to sit up again then twisted around to look back in the direction he’d come. “Fuck! The gunshot must’ve spooked my horse.”
Now that he’d mentioned it, she remembered seeing a horse bolt away. “Sorry about that.”
He gave her yet another incredulous look. “You’re just full of apologies, aren’t you?”
She crossed her arms and gave him bit of the same kind of heated glare that he’d given her. “Yeah, I admit when I mess up. That’s more than you’re doing.”
“What the hell did I do wrong?”
“You snuck up on me. What’d you expect a person to do? You startled me and I defended myself.”
“Lady, you have one set of balls on you, you know that?”
Are far as she was concerned that was a compliment. Too bad he didn’t mean it as one. “I’m doing the best I can, got it?”
“Oh, sure. Of course. You’re doing a bang-up job. No pun intended.” He groaned as he patted his back pocket. A string of curse words followed. “Damn. I forgot my cell phone.” His gaze slid over her body. “What about you? You got a phone?”
“We’re shit out of luck there, too. Mine’s not getting any reception.”
He grunted and nodded. “Figures that’s the way it’d be today. Reception’s often spotty out here.”
“Good to know. So what would you suggest, cowboy?”
“Unless you know how to send up smoke signals, we’re hoofing it back to the ranch house.” He pointed toward the tree and a couple of large branches underneath it, then scooped up his hat and shoved it on his head. “Grab the biggest one of those that you can find.”
“What for?”
“For God’s sake, just do it.”
If it would get him to stop yelling at her, it was worth it. She snagged the largest branch and brought it back to him.
“Help me get on my feet.”
She did, hauling him up then handing him the branch to use as a walking stick. He slung his arm around her shoulder. Although he was heavy, she liked the feel of him against her. The heat from his body raced into her skin and straight to her core.
“Where are we going?”
He took a tentative step forward, putting more pressure on her. “Home. Hopefully, before I bleed to death.”
She snorted. “Humans are such pussies.”
One eyebrow arched skyward. “Humans? Which means you’re a…” The other eyebrow shot up.
She hadn’t meant to admit to being a shifter. Not to a human. “You know what they say. It takes one to know one. I can sometimes be a pussy, too. I’m human, too, of course.” She didn’t feel too badly. After all, it was only half a lie.
“Uh-huh.”
A lie that he wasn’t buying. “Are we going to stand here and chat all day or what?”
His ever-present scowl deepened. “Just shut up and help me walk.”
Chapter Three
Zoey tried to ignore the sensations rushing through her body. The man was hot as hell, sexier than she’d thought any human could ever be, and her reaction was strong, very strong. Her body tingled wherever his skin touched hers, and she knew she had to ignore it. After all, what was she supposed to do? Jump a wounded man’s bones? Hell, jump a wounded human man’s bones?
Yet ignoring him grew more and more impossible. Although it was hot even with the sun starting to set, she couldn’t believe that all the heat she felt was a simple result of the sun beating down on their backs. This heat was coming from inside her as well as wafting off him. If he were a werewolf, she might even think it was the connection that was causing it. But he was human and she…well, she wasn’t sure that she could experience the connection, being only half-werewolf.
“What’s your real name, Calamity?”
“Calamity?”
“As in Calamity Jane, the Western sharpshooter.” He gave a harrumph, making a sound somewhere between a grunt and a chuckle. “I guess I should be glad you’re not a good shot like she was. Otherwise, I’d have a hole in my chest instead of one in my leg.”
“Oh, ha-ha. I’m Zoey Wate. And you, Mr. Funny Man, go by what name?”
“Nolan Sawyer.”
Nolan. She liked the sound of that. “Okay, then, Nolan Sawyer, let’s get you home and off my hands.” Although the truth of it was that she’d have like to have her hands on more of him.
“Damn, sorry to be such trouble. I guess I should’ve arranged for someone to pick us up. Had I known you were going to shoot me, I would’ve.”
At least he had a sense of humor. Considering the pain he was in, that was saying a lot.
“Is it far?” Maybe if she kept her mind preoccupied, she could ignore the way he made her feel.
“Not far. Just keep moving.”
He lifted his head and looked around before going back to concentrating on his feet. If she hadn’t been so focused on him, she might’ve missed the gleam in his eyes when he glanced her way. She had to wonder. Was the gleam from pain or was he sensing the same attraction she was?
She glanced down at the blood-soaked jeans. As bad as it looked, she couldn’t shake the impression that he could’ve walked on his own. If he’d wanted to. To test her theory, she pushed him away just hard enough that he had to stand on his own two feet or fall flat on his face. When he didn’t wobble, she knew she was right.
But why would he want her to support him? The answer, of course, was clear enough. He didn’t want to stop touching her any more than she wanted to take her hands off him. He probably wasn’t even aware of it, but body language rarely lied. She rolled her lips under, determined not to let him see her smile.
They went on that way, his leaning on her, and her enjoying the weight of his muscular body next to hers. After a few more minutes, they topped a small rise and came to a stop.
“Is that it?” The ranch house nestled in the clearing wasn’t anything special. It was like most of the homes she’d seen in the area.
White frame? Check.
Two stories? Check.
Wraparound porch? Check.
Yet, after having lived with the pack in their community home on the outskirts of Atlanta, still close enough to hear the roar of the highway, the small house looked more beautiful than a lush oasis in the desert.
“Yeah. That’s home.” He let out a breath that she wasn’t sure didn’t come from disappointment. Was he sad to see their walk end? She knew she was. And yet, they needed to have his wound, a grazing of the flesh, tended to.
Home.
She’d never really thought of any place as home. Even before her mother had kicked her out, she’d never felt at peace in her own house. And peace while living with the Clayton Pack was a dream that had never come true.
Would she ever have a real home? After spending time with Mary Pritters and her family, she’d realized what she’d missed out on.
She mentally shook herself. Dwelling on fantasies wasn’t going to help her. Once she took care of Nolan, then she could think about her other problems. Like trying to stay away from Rick.
Nolan pushed away from her, breaking apart the sensation of whatever was happening between them. He forged ahead of her, at first leaning heavily on the branch, then tossing it to the side as he neared the porch.
“Hey, hold up. I can help you up the steps.” Before she had a chance, a man, as tall and as broad through the shoulders as Nolan, burst out the front door.
“What the shit happened to you, Nolan?”
* * * *
Declain’s gaze jumped from Nolan to Zoey. “I was just about to go searching for you. Rocky showed up riderless about thirty minutes ago.” The sight of the dark, bloody stain running down Nolan’s left leg brought him up short. “What happened to your leg?”
“I got shot.”
“You what?” Most of the
people in Forever didn’t carry guns. Instead, they preferred to use their claws and fangs.
“Yep. I was minding my own business and all when I got shot.” Nolan jerked his head toward the beautiful girl. “She’s the one who shot me, cuz.”
“You’re kidding me.” Declain surged forward and tried to take Nolan’s arm. “Here. Let me help get you inside then I’ll call the doc.”
Nolan hobbled past him, ignoring his outstretched hand. “No need to bother the doc. It’s not that bad.” He shot a sneer back at the girl. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t take the time to introduce you to the shooter.”
Nolan could be grumpy as hell at times, but for once, Declain didn’t blame him. After all, the girl had shot him. Now that had to be a damn fine story. Declain tilted his head at her, shifted enough to bring out his more sensitive werewolf smell and took a whiff. She smelled like perspiration, dirt and…werewolf.
He frowned. The werewolf scent, however, wasn’t very strong. Which only meant one thing. She was part werewolf.
She’d shot his cousin, and yet, he was attracted to her so much that he was afraid his cock was already tenting his jeans. She was beautiful, no doubt, but he’d had his fair share of beautiful women in his life. That wasn’t it. The urge to take her, to push her down on the ground and mount her from behind, either as a man or as a wolf, was almost irresistible. A yearning, one that took hold of his mind as well as his body, snagged him and held him in a vise. Funny thing was, he didn’t want to get free.
Could she be the one meant for them? Was this the connection he’d heard about, but never really believed in?
Living in Forever most of his life, he’d heard enough about the connection that werewolves and their mate felt when they finally found each other. In fact, he’d heard so much about it that he’d come to think of it in terms of a fairy tale. Like believing in Santa. It was a great thing to think about, but trusting it to find your mate? That seemed just plain foolish.
Never mind that most of the werewolves in Forever had found their mates that way. As far as he was concerned, it was the result of a group mentality thing or a weird kind of placebo effect. The connection was just a term they used instead of flat-out admitting that they were hot for someone else.
