Claiming Ana

by Brynna Curry

  4

  Ana sipped a cup of coffee while she watched over her snoozing furball. The pitifully wet, black cat had turned up at dark fall, scratching furiously on her back door. On the doorstep had been four mewling newborn black kittens that looked more like wet rats. She had taken them in, settling them by the fire while the storm spun out its fury. The momma cat had likely been rousted from her birthing place by the storms. “You’re a lucky cat, Circe. It’s awful out there tonight. Not fit for man or beast.”

  Circe blinked her feline eyes to concede the point, licked her paw and meowed toward the fire. Content to keep warm in Ana’s old sewing basket, the feline curled her fluffy tail around her babies, already a happy new member of the family.

  “Cold? Me too. A little gypsy magic should do the trick.” Ana smiled and pointed casually toward the fireplace. Flames lurched up from the embers and soon the fire was crackling warm. “Got a few tricks up my sleeve, don’t I? Ah, but wait there’s more.” Another finger wave materialized a saucer of warm milk and a dish of canned tuna.

  Moving into the kitchen, Ana stretched her arms high over her head in exhaustion, feeling the aching muscles of her back ripple from waist to neck in a painful sort of bliss. Her emotions were all over the place, especially after she had seen Jace.

  I wonder if Howl is managing alright over at the Parker place. City boy probably has no idea how to use a generator. Maybe I should call him.

  She glanced at the microwave clock. Midnight. Nah. He was probably in bed by now. No sense waking him. The all-too-welcome image of Howl stretched out across a phantom bed, naked and waiting for her, was enough to send a wave of heat through her body. She couldn’t remember another time when she’d been so attracted to a man.

  Tread carefully, Ana. This one’s dangerous.

  Mmm. Yeah he is. She poured the last of her coffee down the drain, flicked a glance at the coffee maker, willed her magic, and the switch flipped itself to off. Rinsing out her cup, she set it in the dish drainer and winked again. The kitchen light went dark. She had one booted foot resting on the stairs when Taffy, her golden retriever, bolted past her, hunched in front of the locked doggy door, and howled madly. Circe added a yowl from her basket.

  “Taffy! What’s gotten into you?” She shook her head. The dog was usually mild-mannered, not that she had always been. Age had settled her down and tamed her urge to jump on everybody that crossed her path.

  Unless she went out and investigated the cause of her trouble, Taffy would keep howling. Meaning no sleep would be had tonight. Resigned, Ana wearily retraced her steps and reached for the shotgun she kept behind the kitchen door.

  “Okay, you big chicken! I’ll see what ne’r-do-well lurks in the dark,” she complained dramatically. “Just please stop that howling.”

  Taffy met Ana’s eyes with her eerily human gaze. The comment made her think of the rabid bobcat she’d had to put down this time last spring. While she doubted it was another rabid bobcat, there were coyotes in the woods. After the thunderstorms they’d had tonight, all kinds of animals would likely be stirring. Maybe one was in trouble and Taffy could sense its distress. Stranger things had happened. Holding her palm out in front of her, she whispered under her breath, conjuring a bright ball of light. It hovered just above her hand. She adjusted the shotgun strapped over her shoulder, opened the door and stepped into the night.

  An inexplicable chill ran down her spine at the sound of the door clicking shut behind her. She shuddered. Just a long day. That’s all. It’s nothing. Still, her magic insisted something more—something sinister—waited in the darkness. She felt the ugliness of hate lurking around her.

  Holding her palm upright, she swept the ball of light from one side of the yard to the tree line. Nothing. Cautiously, she picked her way around in the dark. The wind kicked up, adding a drizzly rain to the mix. It whipped her long hair around her throat and soaked her to the skin. In the distance, she could just barely make out the sound of the tornado sirens going off in town.

  Wonderful.

  Something scuttled across the toe of her boot. She tripped, dropped the ball of light to secure the shotgun. Slipping on the wet grass and mud, she fell flat on her butt with a decidedly loud thump.

  “Oww, geez.”

  She swung her palm around until she pinned the culprit with the light beam. Beady, black eyes stared back at her accompanied by a menacing growl. She screamed in surprise, pointing the shotgun at the animal, which, true to its name, stiffened and keeled over.

  “Stupid possum,” she muttered, reminded of how much she detested the rat-looking creatures.

  Taffy’s worried barking became more insistent. Even from this distance, Ana could hear her scratching at the kitchen door. What in the world was wrong with that dog? She hesitated, torn between continuing her search and seeking shelter. The cold front moving through was wreaking havoc on the trees. Trying to ignore the swaying limbs, she thought about the pine tree lying across her Jeep. The first wave of storms that evening had broken the tree at a point several feet up the trunk, sending it smashing down onto the SUV. Luckily, that was all the damage she’d had so far, but those had only been straight-line winds.

  What she had initially thought was the signal for a tornado watch became a continuous blare, meaning a new tornado warning had been issued. This is ridiculous. I’ve got to get back to the house. She thought about how hard it would be to find someone to clean up the huge pine in the front yard. Pulling herself to her feet, she brushed off her wet jeans and turned to run back to the house. A deep growl echoed through the rain, calling her farther into the woods. An injured animal? I can’t leave it out here to die. Cursing her stupidity, she conjured another light ball and followed the sound into the path of danger.

  5

  Her light skittered off the form of man lying in the brush just inside the forest. Shock rooted her feet as she played the beam of light along a naked flank. Dear God. One more step and she would have walked right on top of him. No doubt about it, the hip belonged to a man, a fully-grown, and completely naked man. Dark hair swept over his cheek. Howl? No, it couldn’t be. Why would he be out here naked?

  The tangy metallic scent of blood hit her nostrils through the smell of rain, right before she saw the dark, ominous stain coating his chest, arm and side. For one long moment she just stared, frozen. Then, a shiver racked the supine form. Even though it was warm outside, the rain was cold. It wouldn’t take long for him to catch a chill from the weather, especially coupled with the blood loss. Rain fell steadily as she gazed down at him. He must be freezing. She knelt and felt his throat for a pulse. There. Faint, but steady. Another shudder rippled through him, involuntarily sparking one of her own.

  He was way too big for her to carry or even drag, but if she could rouse him, then with his help she could get him inside the house. She reached out and touched his shoulder with tentative fingers. Nothing. She took a firmer hold and gave a small shake.

  He woke with a low, feral growl. Turning to her, he bared his teeth.

  “Oh, God, Howl. It is you. What happened?”

  “Hunter. Shot me.” His eyes caught the light of her cold-fire ball and gleamed in the night like something wild.

  Ana could not prevent a small shiver.

  “Help me.” A blood-streaked hand snaked out and wrapped roughened fingers around her ankle. He appeared to be in good physical shape, other than the gunshot wound.

  She twisted her foot out of his grasp. That she could easily break his grip told her how weak he must be. “I’m trying. I need to get you inside. It’s not far.” She spoke in a soothing tone. The same one she used with her four-legged patients. “Can you walk? I’ll help you.”

  “I think so. So hot,” he slurred. With a groan, he struggled to sit upright.

  Ana fit her shoulder under his uninjured arm and eased him to his feet, grunting when his full weight bore down on her slight frame. “Here now. Lean on me.” His last words worried her. If he was hot in th
ese temperatures, he might have a fever, meaning infection. It became more important than ever to get him inside. She could call the air, but it was better not to use her magic for things she could manage on her own. After a powerful spell, she could sometimes take days to get rid of the flu-like aches and weakness that followed. It would have to be the old fashioned way.

  “Fell for a witch. It figures.”

  She didn’t take offense at his comment, used to the stigma that had followed her around since a child. “Don’t worry. I’m a good one. Try not to hold it against me. That’s it. One foot in front of the other. Come on. You can do it.” Ana cheered him on.

  Howl leaned against her, but gave little help.

  Somehow she managed to get them both to the house. “Back, Taffy,” she commanded before opening the kitchen door and staggering inside with the injured man. She kicked it shut with her heel.

  Now what?

  She tightened her arm around his waist when his knees began to buckle, uncomfortably aware of the hard, smooth muscles under her hand. She leaned both their weights against the heavy, old-fashioned kitchen table. This close, she was excruciatingly conscious of his scent under the smell of blood, a combination of night air and something wild, almost feral. Down low, her stomach tightened.

  Ana cleared her throat. “I’ll try to get you to a hospital, but first I need to stop the bleeding. Can you climb up on the table?”

  No answer. Not even a grunt.

  “Howl? Come on.”

  Still no response.

  Damn. She began to reconsider her decision to forgo her magic.

  Ana struggled with the burden of his increasingly dead weight. There was no way she’d be able to manhandle him into her exam room. Besides, she wasn’t set up for human patients. So what now?

  Her hand slipped in the fresh blood slicking his side before she found an answer. She let go of his wrist with her other hand and braced it against his stomach. Her palm slid on the fever-induced sweat, and the thin line of hair that ran from his navel to his groin rasped against her sensitive skin. She looked down.

  She bit back the urge to vomit as she saw the blood on her hands and arms, coating them in a bright, deadly red. Warm, human blood. Howl’s blood. God, it ran like water. She was a vet, dammit, not a general practitioner. Only hours ago this man had been kissing her senseless in this room. Even though she didn’t indulge in one-night stands, she had been ready to meet the demands of her desire. Now he lay here on her floor, bleeding to death. She shook her head. “I can’t do this. A flesh wound shouldn’t bleed this much.”

  He must be more seriously wounded than she’d first believed. An uncharacteristic feeling of hopelessness washed over her. He might have nicked an artery. No, his blood would be spurting with the pump of his heart. Maybe a vein then. She wished she knew more about human medicine. Veterinary medicine was a world apart from human anatomy. Magic it would have to be, just a bit. She called the air and cooled his hot body with her power. His blood loss slowed a little as the fever lessened.

  A wave of exhaustion made her sway on her feet. Tired. So tired. And this was so outside her realm of expertise. Add to that, her arms ached from supporting him and her feet were killing her after being on them for eighteen hours straight.

  Howl reached his bloody hand for hers. “You can do this, Ana. I trust you.”

  The moment of self-doubt fled as quickly as it came. Just because I’m not a medical doctor doesn’t mean I can’t get the job done. I’m the best help available. She couldn’t wimp out now; Howl’s life was at stake. As his weight became too much for her to support, she slumped to the floor, taking him with her. At the last moment, she managed to twist them so their backs came to rest against the cabinets. Thunder rumbled and shook the kitchen window above the sink.

  The kitchen radio switched from Carrie Underwood’s Blown Away—someone had a sick sense of humor—to another weather bulletin.

  “The National Weather Service in Huntsville, Alabama has issued a tornado warning for the following counties in North Alabama: Marion and Winston until 1:30 AM. At 12:15 The National Weather service indicated rotation within this storm five miles southwest of Hamilton, Alabama moving north northeast…”

  “Damn. I forgot about the sirens.” Leaving Howl where he was, she rushed to open the basement door. “Taffy! Basement now.” The dog streaked by her as she went to gather Circe and her kittens. Taking basket and all, she ran down the basement steps and placed the basket under the laundry table. Giving the dog a pat on the head she said, “Taffy. Stay. Guard.”

  The dog encircled the basket and lay down. “Good girl. I have to go up.” Racing up the stairs, Ana closed the basement door. Howl had slumped over almost into a lying position. There was no way she could get them both to shelter, and she wasn’t about to leave him here to take his chances.

  She pushed the kitchen table flush against the counter over him. Crawling underneath the table, she scooted in beside Howl and tried to cover him with her body. The rumble became a roar. Using the structure of the table as a guide, she mentally conjured a shield of magic around them. She heard the crack and pop of trees snapping, roaring wind, then utter quiet.

  Lifting the shield, she shot a glance at her patient, but he was still unconscious. Oblivious to anything that might have happened. Her house appeared to be intact. Well, what she could see of it from the kitchen. She slid his head off her shoulder and rested it against the cabinet door. Her fingers lingered for a moment in the surprisingly soft, silky strands of raven-black hair before she got to her feet.

  She pushed the table back in place and opened the basement door. There was no way she’d be able to lift Howl up onto the table. She’d have to tend to him where he lay, on her kitchen floor. Taffy padded over and plopped down. Head propped on Howl’s bare feet, the dog gave a low, mournful howl and licked his big toe lovingly, then bumped Ana’s ankle, wanting to be petted.

  “I know. Good girl, Taffy. Let’s take care of him now, okay?”

  Ana closed her eyes, sending up a quick prayer that the service had been restored as she picked up the cordless phone off the kitchen counter. She pushed talk. Damn, still no dial tone. The storms must be delaying phone line repairs. Not to mention who knew what kind of damage this latest storm had caused. Cell phones were useless in Shady Creek. The town’s petitions for a closer cell tower had fallen on deaf ears. Heart somewhere near her stomach, she faced the still-unconscious man. “I guess we’re on our own, tough guy. May God help us both.”

  Grabbing the old quilt off the sofa, she took two sheets out of the linen closet, as well as a micro fiber blanket. Good thing she had a large, country-style kitchen, she thought as she created a pallet beside the big man. Okay, I can do this. I have to. Ana wedged herself between Howl and the cabinet and fit her arms around his chest, turning him so that his shoulders were above the folded blanket and sheet.

  Good lord, the man weighed a ton.

  For a moment, she was trapped between the cabinet and his fevered body. Ana clenched her teeth as she scooted with him, getting most of his upper torso situated. Once that was done, she chanced a peek down the long length of him. He was…well-built. Feeling distinctly guilty for copping a look while he was unable to protest, she grabbed the second sheet and threw it over his lower body. With quick, efficient movements, she lifted his legs and centered him on the blanket.

  She gathered gauze and the supplies needed to clean his arm and began the painstaking process of making sure no debris remained. She’d examine the rest of him for any other injuries, but she was fairly sure if there were, they’d be minor. Using antiseptic and a large bulb syringe as a makeshift suction device, she found the ragged edges of the entry wound, but no exit wound. The bullet must still be embedded in his shoulder.

  Bending over him, she lay her hands on his bare chest. She winced at the pinch of pain in her own shoulder as she slid her healing magic carefully through him. There. A glint of metal. Not far into the tissue. Whatever
the slug was coated with helped to hold it together and prevent tissue damage. With his extensive blood loss, she only hoped he wouldn’t need a transfusion. Fresh blood ran in small rivulets down his chest as fast as she swiped it away. There was no stopping it.

  Again she cursed her luck. She would have driven him to the hospital if not for her crushed Jeep. He moaned in agony, drawing her attention. Using a clean dishcloth to wipe the sweat from his face, she hoped his fever wouldn’t get worse. Thunder rattled the kitchen windows. She jumped. Her nerves even more on edge. If another warning were issued, they would be stuck topside again right through the middle of the storm. I can’t move him now, anyway.

  “So hot.” Howl groaned and turned into the damp cloth. “Fire.”

  She wet the dishcloth and bathed his face with cool water. Was that steam rising from his forehead? I must really be out of it.

  “You have a fever. If I could just stop the bleeding.”

  He opened his eyes and turned his dark head in her direction.

  Her next thought had nothing to do with soothing words or medical care. He really had the most unusual eyes, almost the color of an old Spanish coin: more gold than amber. Once they locked onto hers, she couldn’t break that visual connection. It was then she realized how dangerous her situation really was, both physically and emotionally. Like the strays she took in, she might just as easily fall for him, and when he ran, he’d leave her heart ripped in pieces. Unlike Circe, she couldn’t just cuddle him by the fire and decide she’d keep him.

  Mmm. Cuddling Howl by the fire. She had more than cuddling in mind.

  “No hospital. You take it out. I’ll be fine…Ana.” He took her hand in his and squeezed. As it had earlier in the day, Howl’s touch sent a lightning flash of heat through her body. He said it with such conviction she could almost believe him. “I trust you. Just get it done. Not much time.”