No Remorse

by MaryLynn Bast

  The smell was powerful and Amber felt the eagerness of her wolf wanting to hurry and get there. Still learning her wolf’s needs, Amber wondered why she felt so impatient to get to the man in the truck. Her wolf had eaten earlier and didn’t feel hungry. Halfway down, her ears twitched; the fur on the back of her neck stood on end with the feeling of being watched. Amber stopped and glanced around. Seeing nothing, she cautiously surveyed her surroundings before continuing down the rocky embankment.

  There was no movement from the truck, but the smell of the fresh blood called to her. The truck lay partially on its top and somewhat on the driver side door. She could see the shadowed form inside. The wolf tentatively inched her nose through the broken window. The dark red blood was strong and there was lots of it. This man was going to bleed to death, if she didn’t make a meal of him first.

  The cut along his forehead was bleeding profusely, but that’s not where the bulk of the blood was coming from. Her yellow eyes took in the male form laying lifelessly, hanging in the seat belt that still restrained him. His arm dangled precariously where the bone had broken, ripping its way through flesh and material. Amber stopped dead in her tracks, peering at the strong facial features and the glazed eyes of man in front of her. Blake groaned slightly, his lids drooped, covering his unfocused stare. Amber felt her stomach give a lurch; she stepped back and stared. She didn’t understand why she had not recognized his scent. There were times that she felt that she was not part of her wolf, even though her wolf was always a part of her.

  Amber quickly turned away and ran from the truck. Moments later, returning in human form, buttoning her shirt against the crisp evening air, half running-sliding down the slope, Amber barely avoided the obstacles along the path in her haste to get to Blake. She waded through the low swift moving water of the small gulch that stood between her and Blake.

  The realization struck Amber that her wolf had probably recognized his scent long before she had grasped who was in the truck. Blake was never going to be her meal.

  Amber raced to the truck, tearing the pale yellow shirt she carried into strips. It was one of her favorite shirts she wore under her button up, but she gave it little thought when falling to her knees beside the truck. Crawling through the passenger door, the broken glass scraped flesh. Amber barely noticed the pain when it sliced through her shirt and skin. Wiping the shattered glass out of the way, she scooted along the inside of the truck to Blake’s unconscious form.

  Amber reached for the broken arm, tying strips of material at the elbow to block the steady flow of blood from the forearm. She used the remaining strips of material to form a makeshift sling to hold the arm steady. But she had no idea how she was going to release his seat belt and stop him from falling; possibly damaging his arm even more than it already appeared to be.

  Closing her eyes to fight the sudden feel of nausea at the smell of his blood, Amber frowned. Her wolf ate human flesh, why would the smell of blood suddenly make her feel sick? Pushing on, Amber got on her hands and knees, slipping between Blake and the tight gap between his body and the steering wheel. Surprisingly, the cabin of the truck wasn't crushed too much and gave her just enough room to maneuver. Bracing herself as much as possible in the confined space, she reached around behind him, tensing her body to catch his.

  Amber was not completely prepared for Blake’s dead weight and felt the air rush from her lungs when he dropped from the restraint onto her back, slamming her onto the steering wheel. Gasping for breath, she inhaled swiftly, lifting with her knees and arms. Once braced, she scooted sideways towards the passenger door of the truck. Their combined weight caused the truck to creak and shift on the side of the ravine. Amber looked sideways out the passenger window to stare at the boulders, rocks, and water another fifteen feet or so below where they teetered back and forth for a moment.

  Amber paused to allow the rocking motions to stop, then began inching towards the door once more. Once they were clear of the steering wheel, she slowly eased Blake down onto his side, allowing the broken arm to slide across her and gently placing it across his chest while she lay him down.

  Taking a deep breath, Amber called upon her werewolf strength to pull him the rest of the way from the wreckage, shoving big rocks out of the way and placing Blake on the uneven ground away from the truck. Tensing at one point at the sound of a vehicle approaching, Amber paused and stared up the rocky slope, hoping that no one saw her and Blake. At the same time, she wanted someone to stop and take over, to let them help him instead of her. Amber was allowing herself to get involved and that could be a critical mistake.

  The vehicle passed and she stared down into the pale bloody features of the man before her. Amber had actually controlled her wolf for the first time, changing at will back to her human form, or had the wolf allowed her to take control?

  Now she had to figure out what to do with him. The blood flow was stopped, but Blake needed help with the arm. From what she could see, the break was clean, but knowing nothing of skin, tissue, or muscle damage, other than how to cause is, she was at a loss. Plus, she didn’t know how severe the head trauma was or if there was any internal bleeding. His breathing sounded normal, but she was no doctor. She knew that werewolves were supposed to heal fast, and wondered briefly if maybe he could heal himself.

  Amber had no other choice but to find a way to get help. Her dilemma was how; she didn’t know anyone in the area other than the people she had been working with. She paced, running her hand through her long dark hair in frustration, not realizing she was smearing blood across her forehead in the process.

  Suddenly, remembering there was a coat in the cab of the truck. Amber ran back up the hill, located it, and raised her hand in triumph when she found the black cell phone. Now hopefully it’s still intact and got a signal. To her surprise the phone had full bars.

  “Man, you’re lucky I came along!” she murmured, kneeling back down beside the still unconscious form of Blake. Propping the coat under his head, she braced his neck and dialed nine-one-one.

  Amber held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, lifting Blake’s hips slightly and located the wallet in his back pocket. Quickly sifting through its contents she found the insurance card waiting for the operator to pick up.

  “There’s been an accident.” To her own ears she sounded stressed. “Uh,” she thought quickly responding to the operator’s questions, “Compound fracture to his left forearm, yes, he’s lost a lot of blood and is unconscious.”

  “His name is Blake Edwards,” she replied looking at the driver’s license in her hand. “I have his insurance card here, too, if you need that,” she added as an afterthought. The operator went down the list of standard questions they are required to ask. Amber answered as best as she could, but skirted the question of what her name was. Frustration set in, Amber raised her voice an octave and pleaded, “Please, hurry, he’s dying.” Surprisingly, that thought bothered her and she frowned.

  “I'm not sure what mile marker we’re at, there’s a flare kit behind the seat. I’ll mark the highway.” Amber glanced at Blake once again before effortlessly running up the hill while listening to the woman on the phone.

  The operator told her fire rescue was on the way, that she could hold the line or call back if anything changed. Amber saw no reason to stay on the phone. Thanking the woman for the prompt assistance, she hung up and waited for fire rescue to arrive while holding Blake’s hand.

  Within minutes, the bright red truck with sirens wailing came rolling to a stop at the top of the ravine, followed by an ambulance. Amber called to them from the other side of the wreckage where she had pulled Blake safely away from the truck in case it shifted and slid further down the hill.

  Amber stood when the men began swarming down the hill towards her, forgetting that she was covered in blood until one of the firemen approached her, trying to make her sit down so he could examine her.

  “Ma’am, you’re probably in shock.”

  “I’m fine,
it’s his blood.”

  The other fireman headed straight for Blake. “He was thrown from the vehicle?” The nametag on the front of his jacket read Rory. He was speaking while working on Blake and didn’t bother looking up from his task, gingerly probing the broken arm and the field bandage Amber had applied and nodded his approval. Rory removed the strips of material to see what the actual damage was while another paramedic began poking and prodding Blake’s lean muscular stomach for possible internal injuries.

  “I pulled him out,” Amber mumbled. “He was wearing his seat belt and didn't think it was a good idea for him to hang there like that.”

  Pacing back and forth while keeping one hand wrapped around her waist, the other hand kept going to her mouth to chew nervously on her fingernail, stopping when noticing her hand was bloody. She was frowning, admonished herself for the habit she had broken herself of years earlier.

  Rory noticed her agitated pacing and the blood on her hands. Digging through the bag, he pulled out some alcohol cloths and offered them to her to clean herself up.

  “You know, you probably saved his life,” he said glancing between the slender woman and the muscular man lying on the ground. “I hear adrenaline can make a person strong, you must have been pumped!” He smiled at her small nervous laugh.

  From the corner of her eye Amber saw the sheriff making his way down the hill and groaned inwardly. Shoulders sagging, she turned with dread to the officer. “Ma’am, can I ask you a few questions while they get Mr. Edwards ready for transport?”

  She glanced hesitantly around, for a brief moment wanting to shift to wolf form and get the hell out of there or, better yet, disappear altogether.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The steady beeping noise was annoying. He wasn’t ready to get up yet, moving to turn the alarm off made his arm hurt like hell. Come to think of it, his whole body hurt. His eyes still closed, Blake frowned when he tried to move again and realized that his arm was restrained. Shaking his head lightly, trying to clear his mind of a strange dream. The large black wolf panting over him in the mangled truck was just too real.

  His vision was somewhat blurred, he could barely make out the shapes of the equipment. There was a dark form sitting in the chair next to his bed.

  “’Bout time you woke up,” the familiar voice said.

  Blake blinked and focused his eyes on the man that reclined lazily in the chair.

  “Feels like a truck rolled over me.” His dry mouth caused his vocal cords to feel tight and his speech was slurred. Reaching for the cup of water sitting on the hospital table, the sharp pain caused Blake to jerk back.

  Adam got up quickly, grabbed the cup, and handed it to him. “Man, you’re lucky you were wearing your seat belt. It probably saved your life.”

  Blake tried to recall the events that landed him in the hospital. The last thing he remembered was the steering wheel jerking and the truck sailing off the side of the road. By the third flip, he must have been knocked out.

  “It was a wild ride,” he said, leaning back against the stark white pillow, mentally checking that all his toes, fingers, and the rest of his body parts were present and accounted for.

  “You were lucky she found you when she did,” Adam informed him scowling, shaking his head. His friend had cheated death more times than he cared to remember.

  “Did anyone see the wolf?” Blake couldn’t forget the hot breath on his cheek while he hung from the restraint. “I thought for a minute it was looking for a free meal.”

  “Blake, there was no wolf. You must have hit your head harder than Doc thought.” Adam watched Blake carefully, worried for his friend.

  Blake's brows drew together in a frown recalling the wolf’s face with its silky black fur and yellow eyes staring into his, the hot breath as it panted in his face. He swore that it licked its chops while it sniffed his blood. Blake remembered the whine that came from the wolf. Then it suddenly stopped coming towards him and backed up. After that, everything went black again.

  Looking at the IV that slowly dripped the clear liquid feeding into his arm, Blake's mind still felt a little fuzzy. “What are they giving me?” He asked inclining his head towards the tubes stuck in his arm.

  “Not sure, but Doc said you shouldn’t feel any pain.”

  Blake gave Adam a lazy smile; his eyes began closing on their own accord. “I guess not,” he mumbled, falling back into the darkness and the vision of the yellow eyes staring down at him.

  The next time Blake awoke, Adam was coming back into the room with a bag in hand. The smell of the meal in the bag must have awoken him. Blake felt his stomach rumble at the thought of food.

  “Welcome back,” Adam said standing at the bedside, as he started rummaging through the bag, plopping two double meat burgers wrapped in paper onto the hospital table. Adam rolled the table and positioned it in front of Blake, pushing the button on the bed’s control center to bring him to a more upright position.

  In the middle of it all, the nurse came bustling in, her scrubs swishing where her thighs rubbed together. She turned sideways to fit her large frame between the wall and the equipment at the bedside, reaching to adjust the controls and take the readings that flashed on the displays.

  “Now you know you shouldn’t be eating that in here,” she scolded Adam with a stern look.

  Adam turned on his brightest smile. “Yes, ma’am, but my friend here missed dinner last night, breakfast this morning, and lunch because he was sleeping, I couldn’t eat in front of him.” He whispered loudly for everyone in the room to hear, “and you know hospital food.” He scrunched up his face like a little two-year-old tasting spinach for the first time.

  The middle-aged nurse was not as rough as she tried to sound and melted at the smile and answered with one of her own. “The food didn’t seem to bother you too bad when you were eating it.” She informed him with a laugh but agreed. “Just don’t tell the doctor I let you do this.” She glanced towards the door as if she was looking for someone to overhear them.

  Adam saluted and sat down with a grin. Blake eagerly reached for the burger with his free hand, the one not wrapped in the uncomfortable cast. Taking a big bite, he watched quietly while the nurse continued to fuss around for a minute, pushing buttons on the equipment, before she quietly left the room, pulling the door closed with a smile in their direction.

  “What do you remember?” Adam asked after they polished off their burgers and fries.

  “Honestly, I think I fell asleep. Don’t know how the hell that happened. I was tired, but thought I was awake, guess not.” Blake frowned, struggling while he tried to remember the events.

  “Did you see the hiker?” Adam asked. “Maybe you swerved to miss her?”

  “No, there was no hiker. Honestly, Adam, the only thing I remember after flipping a couple times was waking up, a wolf in my face and I couldn’t move.”

  “You're serious, aren’t you?” Adam asked, looking closely at his friend. He had known Blake to tell a story straight-faced just to prank him, but believed this was not one of those times. Blake really thought what he saw was real.

  “I’m not crying wolf here,” Blake said, smiling at his own pun, and continued. “Doesn’t make sense, how can there have been a wolf? It’s not our phase yet.

  “I got with Sheriff Downs and talked him into giving me a copy of the police report.” Adam opened his jacket and pulled the folded papers from his pocket. Handing them over, Adam sat in silence while Blake read the report.

  Blake’s heart was pounding. A frown creased his brow while he read the report and flipped through the photos that were attached. Reaching for the nurse’s call button, Blake asked for the doctor to be sent in.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Edwards?” The southern drawl of the African American nurse responded loudly through the intercom.

  “No ma’am, I’m ready to be released.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Blake, it’s been under twenty four hours since you were transported
in, unconscious from a serious accident. I recommend monitoring you until morning.” Dr. Peter “Doc” Grant shook his head in frustration at his patient. He had known Blake for the past five years, knew that when the full moon came Blake would be as good as new again. But, as his doctor, he had to keep him well until that time came, when Blake could change and the healing process would speed up.

  Blake refused to listen and pulled the IV from his arm with a wince. Doc pleaded with him to remain, but Blake was adamant that he was leaving.

  “You know me, Doc, I don’t do hospitals.” Blake moved to the side of the bed to stand. Still dizzy from the knock on the head and the medicine pumped into his system, he busied himself with straightening his hospital gown so Doc wouldn’t notice.

  Blake stood, trying to get his feet under him, but swayed. Adam had made his way around the bed when he saw Blake trying to get up, grabbed him and kept him from falling over. “You sure you want to do this? A concussion is nothing to mess with.”

  “Just get me out of here,” he grumbled irritably.

  Doc was surprise that Blake had stayed as long as he had. Reaching into the metal clipboard he pulled out the release papers he had the nurses gather within hours of Blake being admitted. All it required was both of their signatures and Blake would be on his way.

  Blake gladly signed the paperwork because he wanted out of there, the sooner the better.

  “Adam, get him to Seriana.” Doc instructed. Turning, he walked out and left without another word.

  Adam nodded, then gathered Blake’s clothes and quickly helped him dress and pull the boots on, even though Blake groused about not being helpless.

  Blake, with Adam watching over him, walked out of the hospital under his own power. Not caring that hospital policy required patients to be wheeled out. He climbed into Adam’s truck and nodded in thanks when the pillow snatched from the hospital bed was tucked gently under his casted arm. Adam was a good friend and pack mate.