Savage Instinct
Page 4
Poor Richard only thought he was impressive.
Ha!
Her hands trembled, fingers shaking as she tucked it around his lap while he unbuckled the seatbelt.
Oh god, he had those hip lines forming a v pointing to his…. She’d only seen that on high dollar male models of her dreams.
Nydia felt heat flood her cheeks and chest and glanced up at his face to see if he’d noticed her inspection. He caught her gaze with his heavy fringed, green eyes but spared her from saying anything embarrassing—like stop looking at my junk, horn dog.
Nydia swallowed and gave him her hand. He pulled himself out of the car, gritting his teeth.
“We’ll have to do something about your wound. I can’t have you bleeding to death in my house. I don’t want to go to jail.”
He nodded and made his way inside with her help. She let him to the guest bathroom, making him sit on the toilet lid while she raided the medicine cabinet for gauze, tape, and alcohol. As she opened the medicine cabinet, her hands shaking, the twelve inch long dildo that her coworker, Sadie, had given her for her birthday fell out and clattered in the sink.
“What’s that?” he said, his eyes practically boggling out of his skull.
If she could have turned ten shades of red, she would have. As it was, heat suffused her face and neck—and not in a good way. “It’s nothing,” she said, trying to tuck it back into the cabinet before he could get a good look. She had to remember to get it out the next chance she got before he could see it.
And she’d kick Sadie’s but the next time she saw her!
Turning with the bottle, she poured alcohol on the wound to clean the area to see what she was working with.
Aiden roared and knocked the bottle away before she could dowse him again. “I’d rather die!”
Nydia popped a hip and frowned at him, holding the bottle close again. Her face tightened in determination. “You want to die of sepsis?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said you weren’t a doctor.”
“I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot that doesn’t know about infections. I’ve seen enough emergency ER on TV to know what can go wrong when you aren’t treated properly.”
Aiden grimaced, bracing himself for more torture. “Oh god,” he said. “I’m stuck with some lady who thinks she’s a doctor after watching TV.”
“Hmph. I did not say that. Stop acting like a baby. I swear, do all men do this? And the name is Nydia. Nydia Willaims,” she said, examining the thin metal sticking out of his chest.
“Thanks for letting me know who’s going to send me to my grave.”
“This could severe arteries in your heart if we pull it out. You really need a doctor.”
His tan face turned pale when she touched a finger to it. “Just get me some pliers,” he said, his tone gruff.
Nydia left him in the bathroom to check her kitchen junk drawer for the little pink toolbox she kept inside. Opening the pink cover, she found a small pair of pliers.
“Thank the lord,” she said, rushing back to where he waited. When she held up the pliers, he gave her a look.
“Pink. Really?”
“You got something better hidden in your pockets?”
“I don’t have any pockets.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. “Well, there you go.”
He shook his head. “You’re mouthy.”
“I’ve been called worse. Now, are going to do something about this or not?”
Aiden took the pliers, but he couldn’t get the right angle on it to pull the debris straight out. He dropped his hand to his lap, looking weary as his shoulders slumped. “You’re going to have to do this.”
Immediately, every ounce of bravado she possessed deserted her. She gave a hard, audible swallow and glanced uneasily from his face to the weeping wound. “I don’t know…”
“Just take the damn pliers and get it over with. You won’t kill me, I promise. Better in than out.” He leaned his head back as if bracing for the worst.
Feeling sick to her stomach, hands shaking, she took the pliers from him and applied them to the thin edge of metal poking out from his flesh. Grasping it, she grit her teeth with determination and gave a tug.
“Jesus!” he yelled, turning white. His lips looked almost purple.
“You’re making me a nervous wreck!” she hollered back at him.
“Yell at the wounded man you ran over with your car why don’t you?”
“Guilt much?” she said.
He roared again when she inched out the metal piercing him.
“It’s like a bandaid. Just pull it out and be done,” he gritted out in a hoarse voice, panting now as if he’d been running a race.
“This damn sure is nothing like a bandaid,” she muttered, feeling a little faint as spots began dotting the edges of her vision. Finally, she screwed up her courage and yanked.
The metal pulled free with a spurt of blood that flew across the room and spattered her pristine white tiled floor and the backsplash lining the bottom half of the bathroom. The red looked stark and harsh against all that white.
Looking at the pliers, she saw two inches of what looked like a serrated knife protruding from its pinchers. “Who the hell stabbed you and why?”
“Does it matter when I’m bleeding to death,” he said quietly.
She dropped it in the trash and grabbed the bottle, dousing him in alcohol to clear the blood away. Ignoring his groans of pain, she folded a pad of gauze over the wound and taped it to his chest.
“X marks the spot. Maybe you’ll live,” she said, looking at him doubtfully.
He squinted down at the bandaging. “I’ll try not to die on you. Can I wash myself off? Do you have any clothes I can use?”
“Yeah. Just don’t get your bandage wet. I’ll see if I can find you something to wear. There are towels and washcloths in the cupboard under the sink. Soap in the medicine cabinet and shampoo. I’ve never actually used this bathroom, but it’s stocked for guests.”
He nodded and she left him alone to clean up, wondering what kind of crazy she was to allow him into her house. Closing the door, she leaned against it a moment, listening to the sounds of water cutting on and hitting the shower stall, the tinkle of hooks as he pulled the curtain back and got in.
Soap scented steam seeped from under the door.
Rather than dwell on the wisdom of her decision to bring home a wounded stranger, Nydia set about cleaning spots of blood and mud on the carpet that he managed to track in. When she finished with that task, she went to her bedroom to see if Richard managed to leave any of his clothes at her house.
She was normally a stickler for making sure anyone that came to her home with belongings also left with them. She hated going through her house and discovering that someone left a pan when they came to eat, or a hat. She was always surprised at the things people tended to forget and never attempt to get back.
She’d suspected Richard of trying to move in on her without an invitation, and maybe that’s why he’d talked to his family negatively about her. He’d managed to bring a few things like deodorant and a toothbrush, and sleeping pants for when he talked himself into sleeping over.
Maybe she was abnormal, but she didn’t enjoy having a man hogging her bed. And Richard snored, keeping her up at night, which was another reason she didn’t like for him to sleep at her house.
She valued her rest. Sleeping was one of her few enjoyments besides swimming and cooking.
Maybe she needed to work on being less rigid and more flexible.
She wasn’t big on allowing anyone into her space. If it wasn’t for the fact that she’d hit Aiden with her car, he wouldn’t be in here either. As it was, as soon as he was able to get the heck out of her domain, she would kick him to the curb and go back to a normal life without the trouble of any man in it.
Maybe that said something about how she felt about Richard? She didn’t even miss the jerk.
Good riddance.
Finding the black and red striped pajama pants she’d remembered Richard leaving in her closet, she opened the door to the bathroom and sat them on the sink countertop. In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of tanned, glistening skin.
She paused, riveted to the crack between shower wall and curtain. Her pulse quickened, taking off at a gallop.
Nydia gulped and ducked back outside before she could get herself in trouble.
The magnetism to a stranger was disturbing, to say the least.
***
Free from Nydia’s curious eyes, Aiden peeled the bandage back on his chest. The wound had already healed in the short time she’d been gone, but the silver had left a ragged, pink scar that would probably always be there.
It didn’t take a lot of imagination to realize that one: Riker’s gang had been watching Aiden’s; and two: they probably knew where his place was by now and would be waiting on his return.
He could call his pack via cell phone and get them back sooner, but most shifters turned their phones off at festival so they could fully enjoy what it had to offer.
Mentally, he called to his pack, but the distance made mental communication useless. He didn’t have his cell either, which would make it that much harder to get a hold of them once they did have access to their phones. He hadn’t had to remember a number in years. He thought he knew Malik’s number, but he wouldn’t know until he tried it.
Lee Riker and his group of rag-tag werewolves would be no match for Aiden and his pack.
Aiden had a rather small number of shifters in his community, but each of them were self-disciplined, skilled, and quick-witted. Their numbers often caused others to think about trying to take them over, but their connection to each other and their devotion caused the most rivals to rethink jumping this crew. Something about this group made them special.
Maybe it was their ability to remain in contact with each other, even when they weren’t nearby.
Aiden missed the mind speak now. He’d only thought he needed a break from everyone and everything. A chance to be the lone wolf and free from pack responsibilities.
Turning on the water, Aiden stepped inside and washed the dirt and blood off his body. The water felt invigorating, easing his weary mind and tired body. Fast healing didn’t mean he couldn’t be sore from fighting, and he suspected the contact with silver deep inside his chest had left more of a mark than he realized.
He heard the door click open and sensed Nydia dropping something off for him. She lingered a moment longer than she should have, intriguing him.
The door closed quietly.
A quick glance over his shoulder and he saw why she’d paused—the curtain stood open just enough that one look in his direction and she’d see water streaming down his naked body.
He’d never considered himself anything special. Fit and healthy, yes, but with average looks that most people would forget. If anything, he thought his jaw was a little too big and square, and he’d been teased growing up for his “butt face” cleft chin. Once upon a time, that had bothered him. He’d learned to get over it and accept that he wasn’t perfect and closer to “butt” ugly than not.
It seemed Nydia liked what she saw, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
He arched a brow, considering that development.
Perhaps he didn’t have to go out into the wilderness to wait on his pack to return. He could stay here a few days, fake being too injured to leave, and guilt the woman into accepting him until he was ready to leave.
She talked tough, but he could tell she had a soft heart somewhere inside her. If she hadn’t, she would’ve just driven off without him, or dumped him at the nearest hospital instead of bringing him home and doctoring him.
If he could keep her guilt high enough to prevent being thrown out on the street, this just might work out in spite of the odds.
Getting out of the shower, Aiden grabbed a towel and dried off, rubbing the Egyptian cotton over his head until his hair was mostly dry.
He saw she’d left him some pajama bottoms and slipped them on. Checking to make sure his bandage was still secure, not that he needed it, and left the bathroom to find Nydia.
She was cleaning his blood off the tile floor at the front door. Not exactly something that would inspire thoughts of lust, but maybe the pity angle.
Aiden limped across the floor and stumbled to the couch, acting more tired than he felt and hoping he had the right amount of pathetic to inspire sympathy. It was hard to remember he was supposed to be injured.
She finished and stood, looking at him sprawled across her couch. A mix of emotions crossed her face, but he didn’t know her well enough to tell what they were.
“Where can I sleep tonight?” he asked.
She frowned and looked down the hall, then back at him on the couch. “Here.”
“You don’t have an extra bed? This isn’t quite long enough for me.”
Nydia walked to a trash can and dropped the soiled paper towels and set her tile cleaner on the counter in the kitchen. The open floor plan let him see everything she was doing.
“I do, but I don’t want you to get too comfortable here. I know what it’s like to have guests that don’t leave.”
He propped his head on his cupped hands, watching her with one knee propped in the air. He moved in a way to indicate his legs hurt from the car accident. She gave him a guilty look but quickly covered it by washing her hands and turning away from his gaze.
“What makes you think I wouldn’t leave?”
“I have no idea if you’re homeless, an escaped criminal, or something worse. My luck, I’d have to call the cops to haul you away. I mean, why did you have a knife sticking out of your chest? Care to enlighten me?”
He studied her a long moment. “I guess you deserve that much. I was mugged and had everything stolen.”
She jerked her head back in disbelief. “Even your clothes? You run into the terminator or something?”
He chuckled. “Something like that. I don’t know. Maybe he was high on meth or something. I was lucky to escape with my life. But they might be waiting for me at my house.”
“Why don’t you just call the cops and let them check it out?”
He floundered for a minute, trying to back himself up without sounding like an idiot. He should have thought more about his story while he was alone. He tried not to feel guilty at the little lies piling up, but better that than tell the truth—that werewolves were on the prowl in Misty Springs. She’d throw him out on the spot.
“We’re in the south, honey. You don’t call the cops unless you need them.”
“So stabbing and robbing isn’t enough to warrant a call to the police? I’ve lived down here for years and never heard this,” she said, shaking her head.
“You must be a yankee.”
Nydia propped a hand on her hip. “I’m from Michigan originally. I’ve lived here since I was a kid. What’s that got to do with anything? And they’re just as paranoid about cops there as they are down here, apparently.”
“I guess you’d have to be born here to understand it.”
She raised one fine, black eyebrow and drummed her fingers against her hip as if losing patience. “I think you’re being condescending and deliberately obtuse. Do you have a stash of meth at your place and can’t risk getting busted by the cops?”
He sat up and waved his hands. “Hell no. That shit is like toxic waste. Give me a few days and I’ll be out of your hair. It’s the least you could do, considering you clocked me with your car.”
“You make me doubt the wisdom of believing anything you say. I’m to believe you’re not a criminal being hunted by another criminal. And I don’t have to worry about someone tracking you down here and murdering both of us in our sleep? Or worry about you doing something to me?”
“That’s right,” he said, nodding.
; She pursed her lips. “Mmmmhmmm. Just what I thought. You trying to stay.”
Aiden guffawed. “You do have a smart mouth, and you don’t miss a thing. Just like I thought.”
“If you’re trying to insult me, it’s not working. Anyway, that’s what I’ve been told. But only to people that rub me the wrong way.”