by Debra Dunbar
And what did that say about Gwylla when she was at full power? That she was the equivalent of an angel? He was so out of his league here. It was one thing to have fantasies about an elf-like being with white-blonde hair and a see-through silk dress, but those fantasies seemed even more farfetched- when he contemplated the scale of her power.
Dustin looked down at the wine glass, thinking it had been a bad idea to indulge in alcohol. It was dissolving the few inhibitions he’d had. There was a bed over there. He was still injured, but maybe he could just lay there and she could be very gentle…
Now that was a fantasy. He’d need to think more about that when he had some private time.
What were they discussing again? Oh yeah, the ex-boyfriend elf that was trying to kill him and the other shifters. None of this had answered the question of why an elf was targeting them, though. “Why would this elf want to kill us?”
Gwylla took a deep breath. “He doesn’t, other than you are a stepping-stone to what he wants to achieve. If he can create a weapon to kill shifters, he is on the right path to create one that will kill angels. And if he stirs the humans to act against shifters, he can also convince them to overthrow the angel ‘masters’ who are attempting to control them. He’d have the humans do the killing for him. The angels are reluctant to hurt humans, and even with their power, they are few and the humans here are many.”
The alcohol was clearly messing with his head, because he couldn’t have heard her right. “Kill the angels. You’re serious. The elves want to kill the angels?”
She nodded. “Elves do not have warm feelings about the angels. Neither do the sidhe, but the elves originally placed themselves under angelic tutoring thinking that they would become more powerful and be able to overthrow the queens and rule Aerie. It might have happened but for the war in Aaru. When it was clear that the heavenly host would be forever divided, the elves had two choices—remain allied with the Angels of Order and move here where they would be under strict scrutiny and be forced to shepherd a bunch of lower lifeforms into positive evolution, or join the Angels of Chaos in Hel. They chose the latter, but neither was the option they wanted, and after nearly three million years, they are no more powerful than they were before the war. In fact, they are less powerful.”
Great. So now in addition to interdimensional rifts opening up across the world and spitting out monsters, there was a crazy, souped-up powerful elf with a plot to arm humans with weapons to kill the shifters and eventually angels. Then what? Enslave the humans and take over the world?
“So he’ll cause human hysteria about the shifters and Nephilim, give humans the tools to eradicate these spawn of angels, and the angels won’t care because we’re their dirty little secret anyway. Then they’ll turn on the angels.”
She nodded. “But I don’t think Talligie can summon the power to enchant enough weaponry to kill angels without my help—willing or not. One item he could possibly manage, but one item won’t be enough to kill a host of angels. He’ll need an arsenal of enchanted weaponry, and for that he will need me.”
Well, that was a small consolation. But in the meantime, how many shifters would die before those two angels with the Juneau Pack caught up with this Talligie and stopped him? And if they did stop him, would it be too late? How many bullets were out there already? How many humans were armed and prepared to kill?
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, putting her hand on his leg. “I recognized the magic on the bullets I took from you, and I knew what it was. I knew that Talligie had continued with his plans just as I knew that you were meant to die from that magic.”
“Die and be someone’s trophy on a wall,” Dustin muttered trying hard to ignore her fingers on his naked thigh. “If these magic coated bullets are being distributed widely, we’ve got a bigger problem. We can’t just go killing every human we see. We need a way to get rid of the bullets so humans are no longer a threat to us.”
“Getting rid of the bullets might be a problem. The magic is out there and could possibly be replicated by any elf, or maybe even humans with magical ability.” She turned to him, her eyes full of sorrow. “I’m am very much afraid, Dustin, that going forward, you and the other wolf-people will forever be vulnerable to these sorts of attacks.”
Chapter 7
Dustin felt a sense of panic. They couldn’t put the genie back in the bottle. Even if they could hunt down this Talligie and the human hunters, even if they could destroy the businesses that were running these shifter-hunting expeditions as well as their inventory, they would still be at risk. Any human who wanted them dead might be able to get these bullets.
“I need to go. I can’t stay here any longer. I need to go and help my pack.” Dustin struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall and trying to catch his breath. This was ridiculous. He wouldn’t make it five feet out the door in this state—even if he knew how to open the door.
“You are a very stubborn wolf-man.” Gwylla frowned up at him, but didn’t try to stop him or urge him back to the floor. “You will do your pack no good if you bleed out naked in the woods trying to get home. Stay and heal. And then I will help you and your people.”
She’d helped him already. He owed her his life. That didn’t bother him as much as her alarming insistence that she was somehow now glued to his side for life, that he belonged to her. Which would be kind of hot if it wasn’t stemming from a sense of responsibility and duty rather than any sort of attraction on her part. He never did get the hot girls. Who was he thinking this ice-blonde fae would go for a somewhat skinny werewolf pilot? Not in the way he wanted, anyway.
“Dustin?”
He’d been daydreaming. And trying to keep from passing out.
“Yeah. What? What did you ask?” He swayed and gripped the edge of the fireplace, his knuckles white.
Her hands were soft and cool as they smoothed the skin of his back. “You’re very pale. Do you need to lay down? In the bed?”
He needed to be uninjured so he could warn his pack, pass along what Gwylla had told him about the elf. Do something rather than lying on the floor sleeping.
Dustin cleared his throat, trying to take a step toward where he’d seen the doorway and almost falling onto his face. “I need to get to my plane, to my satellite phone. I know I’m not strong enough to hike out of here, but if I can call and warn my pack, tell them what you’ve told me…”
She put an arm around his shoulders, easing his weight against her side, which shifted his focus from pain to the soft feel of her body against his. “You’re in no condition to travel. Tell me where the plane is. What does this phone look like? I’ll need to wrap my hands so the metal doesn’t burn me. Is there a way I can get into the plane with mittens on? I will go get it for you. Just please don’t injure yourself further.”
Dustin frowned. He couldn’t describe where the plane was because he didn’t know where the heck he was right now. After he’d been shot everything had gone blurry. His wolf instinct had taken over and he wasn’t even fully conscious for most of that mad dash through the snow. All he could remember was pain, blood bubbling out of his mouth as he gasped for air, a forest of trees shimmering like an oasis in the distance, then waking up naked in this cabin.
And was his phone still in the plane, or had he taken it with him and dropped it when he shifted? Had the hunters ransacked his plane? Had they stolen it? And even if she did manage to find it and bring it back, would a satellite phone even work in this weird, alternate-universe thingie that was her sanctuary?
“I’ll have to go myself,” he told her, well aware that he was barely holding himself upright at the moment. “How long do you think before I’m mobile?”
Her hand caressed his shoulder, fingers tracing circles over and over in a soothing rhythm. “I will try to hurry your healing. I know it’s important for you to warn your wolf-people, but collapsing from injuries and exhaustion, leaving yourself vulnerable in the open, is not a wise choice. Plus…”
He
heard the worry in her voice. “Plus what?”
“Healing you is not easy. The nature of your injury, the magic used to harm you, makes it far more difficult than it would be had you suffered a normal wound.”
In other words, there was no rushing this. He’d just have to hope and pray his pack mates were safe. “How long before I’m fully healed?”
She hesitated, her hand brushing low on his hip as she helped steady him. “You should rest. In my bed, too, now that I know you are not a dog. Or wolf.”
She was teasing, but all he could think about was her bed. The one bed in the room. Where would she sleep? On the floor herself? In the bed with him? Naked? Oh, Lord. And just when he was starting to get his mind away from the land of erotic fantasy. What had he asked her again? Some question she was trying to avoid answering. Oh, yeah.
“Gwylla, please answer my question. How long before I’m healed?” He’d meant that to be a firm, commanding statement, but instead it had come out breathy and lacking in any sort of compulsion. Sheesh. Even injured, probably even on his death bed, Jake would have been snapping out commands that no one could refuse. It’s not that he was submissive, or weak. He was just a middle-of-the-pack, somewhat skinny wolf who would rather read comics and play Xbox than order people around. Totally not the sort of guy gorgeous fae women went for.
“Three days, possibly four.”
Two. He couldn’t risk depleting her energy any further, but two days should be enough for him to be able to get out to his plane and get the satellite phone. Then he could crawl back to her sanctuary, collapse in an exhausted heap, and finish healing.
“Let me help you to the bed before you fall on your face and I have to heal your concussion and skull lacerations.”
She was right. He could hardly stand upright. If he made it two feet outside her door, he’d be lucky. If he could even find the door, that is.
“Okay. You win. I’ll head out to my plane in two days. If they’re still out there looking for me, they’ll be armed, so I’ll go myself. Then after I make my phone call, I’ll come back and bleed some more on your blankets.”
She made a huff noise. “If they’re out there still, they will shoot you and you will die before you make it back to bleed on my blankets. I will not allow you to face them by yourself. I will attempt to heal you further, to speed the process, and I will go with you to the plane when you are ready.”
Bossy. Honestly, she sounded more like his Alpha than he did. Figures. Dustin tried to straighten his shoulders, but a short stab of pain through his chest made him give up any idea of a show of strength. “It won’t do me any good if you get shot and killed,” he told her. “Unless bullets don’t harm you?”
Her fingers stilled. “They will harm me, not because of the magic, but because of the metal. But that is of no importance. We will discuss this later and come up with a solution together, because I tell you right now, wolf-man, I will not let you face this danger alone.”
He should be arguing with her, asserting his dominance and telling her he wouldn’t allow that at all. But, in all honesty, it felt good to have her quiet strength beside him, to know that a powerful sidhe would have his back.
“Now, come to bed.”
There was something in the way she said those words that made his mind take a sharp right back into erotic fantasyland.
“Just a minute. I need to catch my breath for just a minute. If you could go stand over there…away from the bed.”
“Now. Before I have to drag your unconscious body across the floor.” There was a firm tone in that her words that gave him strength. He pushed away from the fireplace, his back straighter than he’d been able to manage before. Holding his head high he walked as near to a straight line as he could to the bed, trying to ignore the fact that Gwylla followed behind close enough to catch him if he fell.
The mattress was amazingly soft, as were the pillows, and the blanket. Dustin sighed, feeling the pain ease to a dull ache now that he was no longer trying to stand or walk.
“And now I will heal you. Since you are awake, I need to warn you that it may hurt somewhat.” She placed her hands on his chest and hip, right over where the bullets had penetrated his flesh. Ice and heat shot through him, stinging, burning, an intense combination of both relief and pain. He felt flesh knitting, infection searing away, damaged muscles and nerves forming and connecting. It was agonizing, but there was something liberating about the feeling. When she took her hands from his skin, he still felt the dull throbbing ache of his injuries, yet he knew that in the morning, he would feel ten times better.
She smiled, her eyes betraying how much the effort to heal him had cost her. “There. Sweet dreams, wolf-man.”
“I don’t get a goodnight kiss?” He hurt. He was exhausted. But hey, nothing good came to those who didn’t try, right? Worst case scenario, she’d laugh and call him a silly wolf and walk away. It wasn’t like she’d slap him or anything. Not after just healing him.
“Is that a custom among your people?” Her lips curled up. Was she flirting, too? That had to be a good sign.
“Yes?” he put as much hope as he could into the word, trying for an innocent puppy-dog expression.
“Well then, far be it from me to not honor the customs of my hosts.” She leaned over him, light green eyes staring into his darker ones with a teasing glint. He smelled cedar and magnolia, green and crisp cold snow. Her hair fell around them, creating a private spot of white silk. Her breath had a hint of frost, like she’d been eating those sharp peppermints. Then her lids fluttered, hiding those beautiful eyes. Lips touched his, soft and surprisingly warm. Her mouth clung to his for an instant, then hovered a breath away, as if she was waiting.
Even as injured as he was, he knew an invitation when he saw one. With a groan he lifted his arms, ignoring the pain in his chest to pull her to him and bring her lips once more to his.
She cupped his face with her hand, using the other to keep her weight from falling onto him, and he deepened their kiss, brushing her bottom lip with his tongue. All too soon she pulled away, looking once more into his eyes. Then her gaze roamed down the length of his body to where his erection was tenting the blanket. There was no hiding that. So instead he smiled sheepishly, determined to just brazen it out.
She chuckled. “You have lost a considerable amount of blood, wolf-man. I suggest you try to keep the remaining amount in the upper part of your body. It does you no good all concentrated down between your legs.”
He glanced downward and grinned. Oh, it did a whole lot of good down there, just not right now when he would be liable to pass out doing anything about it. What was it the erectile dysfunction ads always said? “Check with your doctor to see if you’re healthy enough for sexual activity”? Well, right now, he got the feeling his doctor would say no even to masturbation.
So he adjusted the blanket and closed his eyes, smiling at the thought of what his dreams might hold. Which wasn’t helping circulate the blood through the rest of his body.
“Gwylla?” he whispered, suddenly feeling as if he could barely stay awake. “Thank you. For everything.”
As he drifted off, he could have sworn he heard her respond. “And thank you, my wolf-man. Thank you for being the sunlight in my darkness.”
Chapter 8
Gwylla stared down at the sleeping wolf-man. Dustin was sprawled in a tangle of sheets and blankets, taking up nearly every inch of the bed and leaving no room for her. Not that she would have risked accidently hurting him while he slept by climbing in beside him.
She had two more days before he left. She was going to do everything in her power to make sure he was healed enough to defend himself and survive any possible attack. And she was going to use the next two days to ensure that when he returned to his pack, he remembered her, because she certainly would remember him. Even if she never saw him again, she was grateful. He’d shown her that she didn’t have to be alone, hidden away in her sanctuary for the rest of her life. He’d given
her hope that this world might welcome her, might be a home for her. He’d given her the confidence that she might be ready to face Talligie, and that she’d have the support of the wolf-people when she did.
She was no longer alone. And that brought her more strength than anything had in centuries.
Sidhe weren’t meant to be alone. Her solitude the last few months had been cathartic, allowing her to heal both her emotional wounds and her pride, but she longed for company. And she found herself becoming very attached to this wolf-man in the last two days. He didn’t try to woo her with false flattery and honeyed words. He was funny and honest. He didn’t hide his vulnerability, or pretend to be anything more than the wolf-man he was.
And the wolf side of him was just as appealing as his human side. Her affection for creatures had led her to readily accept his wolf’s cry for help and keep him from death. Dustin as a human had that same earnest, unadorned, authentic nature. She already considered him a friend. And right now, she really needed a friend.
Dustin awoke to singing. Under any other circumstances, that would have annoyed the crap out of him. Any sound, pre-coffee, was an irritant that needed to immediately halt and wait until at least two cups had been consumed. But Gwylla’s voice was soft and lilting, almost hypnotic as she sang. He stirred in bed and she turned, a bright smile on her face.
“Good morning!”
Okay, that was too much. The fairy lights in the hut had been turned up to daylight brightness. She was unreasonably happy and energetic for…whatever hour it was. She most likely didn’t even have coffee.
“Humph.” He’d make an exception for singing, but not actual communication.
Dustin rolled over to smash his face into a pillow that smelled like lavender and mint. That’s when he realized that he felt better—he felt way better. The aches were still there, a sharp twinge every time he moved a certain way, and he did feel tired, but that was it. What had been barely-able-to-stand pain less than twenty-four hours ago was now move-carefully/don’t-overexert-yourself twinges. He peeked from the pillow to eye Gwylla, wondering how much energy she’d used for this level of improvement. She didn’t seem tired. In fact, she seemed to be glowing slightly, exuding something that tugged and pulled him to look at her, to be near her. Enchantment? Good grief, the woman hardly needed to enchant him. He’d been more than willing to molest her last night, kissing her like he was a teenager dropping off his prom date for the night. And that boner…
