Wolf Purebred

by Candace Ayers

  I shifted back outside of my house and gently swung her around, so she was pressed against the front of my body, instead of the back. I was then easily able to lift her into my arms and carry her inside, to the dining room table. I laid her out on it and started grabbing all of the medical supplies I could find around the house.

  “Lang.”

  I grabbed a bowl and filled it with water, knowing I needed to clean her wounds and stop the bleeding so she could start healing herself. My hands shook so badly from rage that I sloshed water everywhere on the way back to the table. How dare someone do this to my mate!

  “Lang.”

  Grabbing a washcloth, I stood back and assessed her injuries. They weren’t great. Her blood had already left puddles that dripped off the table and ran onto the floor.

  “Lang!”

  I snapped my head up and looked at Muddy’s face. “What?”

  She dropped her head back onto the table and looked up at the ceiling. “Take me back to my house. I can deal with this there.”

  I straightened my shoulders and shook my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m taking care of you.” My words came out more like a growl than human speech.

  She dropped her head back and groaned. “This is awful.”

  I touched her knee, lightly so as not to cause her any extra pain, but she still flinched. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. Just be as still as you can. I’m going to clean you up.”

  There was a release of tension in her body as she blew out a rough breath. “Can I at least have a towel?”

  I looked over her body and agreed that a towel would be best. Even in the current state, she was distracting. I grabbed a towel and draped it over her body before starting to clean her up.

  It wasn’t easy. She hissed from the pain and I swore as I saw he extent of her injuries. When I reached her shoulder and had to dig buckshot pellets out, I nearly put my fist through the wall. Fortunately, he hadn’t gotten her straight on, and most of the blast had hit the dirt next to her, but still her shoulder carried plenty of lead pellets. I didn’t realize what a huge challenge it would be to administer care to my own mate. I was doing what needed to be done, but in the cleaning, bandaging, and digging, I was also causing her more pain and hating every second of it. I guess that was why surgeons didn’t usually operate on their own spouses.

  Meanwhile, my brain was on a one-way course to shutting down. I’d killed a man. I’d ripped his throat out like I was biting into a jelly doughnut, leaving him stone cold dead. And I felt zero remorse. Zero.

  He’d been trying to harm my Muddy. He had harmed her. If I hadn’t followed her scent through the woods, heard her roars, there was no telling what he might have done. Kept her in a cage? Mounted her head like a trophy on the wall? I shuddered at the thought. I could’ve lost her that easily.

  I realized I had been emitting a low growl the entire time. I shut it off. I didn’t want to traumatize Muddy any more than she already had been. I made a concerted effort to try to quell the anger and calm myself for her sake, and continued with her shoulder. My hands fluttered like moths as I tried to put a dressing of paper towels and dish towels over the wound. I had to stop and take a breath before continuing.

  When I finished, there was blood everywhere, but it wasn’t leaking out of Muddy anymore. She’d start healing and be up and around in a few days, almost fully healed in weeks. The benefit of shifter healing. I carried her to the couch and watched her deep breathing until she fell asleep. Then, I went outside and washed up in the small lake behind the house. I was still panicking. My skin prickled all over and I wasn’t sure what to do next.

  In business, I always knew what my next move should be. With Muddy, I always fucked up. I sat on a rock at the edge of the lake and held my head in my hands as I tried to make some sense over what had just happened.

  I’d almost lost Muddy. The knowledge was a slap in the face. She wouldn’t have been across the country or state. I wouldn’t have been able to console myself in her absence by rationalizing that she was probably happy and thriving, the way I had for the past ten years. She wouldn’t have been mad at me, estranged, cursing me with her every breath. No, she would’ve been gone. Dead.

  I’d killed a man—a man who had almost taken Muddy from me, and the kill didn’t pain me in the least. I shook my head and moved back towards the house.

  Inside, Muddy was sound asleep. Her heartbeat was slow and steady and she looked almost peaceful, sleeping there. It should’ve been reassuring, but it just made me more aware of how fragile life was. How important it was to live every second to the fullest.

  In the distance, I heard my phone ringing. I knew it’d be work. It was always work. It would have to wait this time, though. My mate needed me right now. I let it ring until it stopped and started back again, then I let it ring some more.

  I sat in the chair across from Muddy and watched her for hours. I just needed time to think.

  19

  Muddy

  I woke up in the middle of a vivid dream of riding a white wolf. He’d had the softest fur and he’d been fierce and protective, but so gentle with me. He’d looked back at me with blood dripping from his mouth and so much pain in his eyes that I’d felt it in my own chest. Or, was that my shoulder?

  A light whimper and a scratch of paws on a hard surface came from beside me and I realized that was the sound that had woken me. My body ached too much to move but I could tilt my head just enough to see the large body of Lang’s wolf beside me, on the floor.

  The memories came flooding back to me in a rush and I squeezed my eyes shut against the painful whimpers of Lang’s nightmare. Light whimpers again, and then a long, low howl. His feet moved restlessly against the hardwood floor. He looked almost like a giant puppy, helpless and sad.

  I couldn’t take it. I turned on my side and bit back a curse at the pain before dropping my hand over the side of the couch and burying it in his fur. I’d meant to wake him, but once my fingers were locked in the soft fur of his coat, I couldn’t do it. Instead, I found myself rubbing his furry side. I stroked his fur and listened as his whimpers died away.

  He’d killed my attacker. The image was burned in my brain and it wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, but I was sure it had to be ricocheting around Lang’s head. He wasn’t from the kind of shifters who got their hands dirty. While there were shifters who lived that base animal behavior, I was a thousand percent sure that Lang was worlds removed from them. He was from the hands-clean type. White-gloved. He had been, anyway. People with Lang’s breeding and pedigree didn’t even hire people to do their dirty work. Their people hired people.

  My chest ached and I stared at the ceiling of the house that I didn’t recognize. I didn’t know what came next. I had to get back home and carry on with my life. Even if I thought staying with Lang and dwelling over what had happened would help, I couldn’t. I had a job to do. I had to focus on it. Anything but what had gone down in those woods.

  Guilt ate at me. It was my fault. I should’ve been paying attention. If I’d been focused, I never would have crossed the border and gone out of Helen’s Corner, I never would have gotten caught in a trap, and I never would have given that grease ball a chance to shoot me. Lang never would have had to rush in and rescue me. He would have been able to go about his life with his hands clean.

  Now, our lives were intertwined in yet another complicated way. There would be another secret between us.

  “Everything’s okay, Sunshine.” Lang’s deep voice rang out through the room, shattering my guilt-riddled thoughts.

  I realized he’d shifted back and instead of holding a fist full of soft fur, I was gripping his skin. I let go and winced as I pulled my hand back into my own space. “Sorry.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like someone shot me.” I shook my head. “Fine. I’m fine. I’m ready to go back to my own house.”

  Lang sat up and I was presented with a whole expanse of hot, bare maleness. He leaned ov
er me and checked the bandage he’d put on my shoulder. His bare stomach pressed against my good arm and the assault to my senses was almost enough to make me forget about the pain. Damn, the electricity between us was still there despite how close I came to lights out.

  “You’re not healed enough to move around yet. Sorry to be the bearer of yet more bad news, but you’re stuck with me for a bit longer.”

  “I have a business to run, Lang.”

  “And you have a hole in your shoulder and a broken leg and ankle. You’re not exactly in the shape to run anything, pardon the pun.”

  I felt like crying. He was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to digest. I needed to be away from him. Anxiety pressed against the back of my eyelids like fire. I needed to get away from Lang before I did something stupid.

  This was a tricky situation. Feelings could get muddled together into a big mix-up and next thing I knew I could find myself in Lang’s arms again, unable to resist him. If there’s one thing I’d learned over the past couple days, it was that mates were tricky.

  Lang stood up and walked over to a chair, pulled on a pair of shorts, and sat down. He faced me like a war torn soldier ready to take on another line of enemies, despite being so fatigued he was ready to fall over. “I know this isn’t what you want. It’s just what you’re going to have to deal with for now. This isn’t some ploy to get you alone with me, Muddy. You’re hurt. I’m not a doctor, but I know enough to know that you’re only going to heal if you’re resting.”

  “I can rest at home.”

  “You can rest here.” He stood up and popped his neck. “I’ll make you some food.”

  “You don’t cook.”

  He looked back at me and shook his head. “I do cook. I learned a few years ago from a woman I did a business deal with. She was French and treated cooking more seriously than some men treat their golf games.”

  I got an instant image of a beautiful French woman wearing nothing but a frilly apron teaching Lang to cook.

  Lang grinned and leaned against the kitchen counter. “She was seventy-three, a Julia Child look-alike and would’ve liked nothing more than to whack my knuckles with a frying pan.”

  “A common sentiment.”

  He shrugged. “I incite passion in women. What can I say?”

  “I’m glad you haven’t lost your ability to be full of shit.”

  “And I’m glad you haven’t lost your sparkling wit.”

  I didn’t reply as he got busy in the kitchen. I could see him from where I was. He moved with intent around the island, talking to himself as he went. He was almost fun to watch and I probably would’ve enjoyed it if he wasn’t…himself.

  Lang came back to my side a little bit later with a plate of eggs and toast that smelled like heaven. I was starving. My body was using everything it had to heal itself and I felt depleted.

  “Open up.” He held a big bite of soft, fluffy egg on the tip of a fork and stared at me, waiting.

  I opened my mouth to argue with him about trying to feed me like I was a toddler and he slipped the fork in. It bumped my teeth, but then the eggs were on my tongue and I couldn’t say a word. I did let out an involuntary moan, though. They tasted amazing. I must’ve really been starving for eggs to taste so good.

  “Again.”

  “No, Lang, I— ” Another bite made its way past my lips.

  “Want some toast?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer before he rested the corner of the bread on my lower lip and waited.

  I met his eyes and glared with my lips pressed tightly. Then, I took a bite of the toast. The crisp bread with creamy butter was scrumptious. I closed my eyes and savored it. My stomach rumbled its pleasure, as well.

  “Fuck, Sunshine.” Lang dropped to his knees beside the couch and leaned over. His mouth landed on mine and he flicked his tongue over my lips.

  My body responded, despite the pain, and I felt my hips arch for him. My brain screamed at me, though. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. I turned my head away from him and lightly pressed at his chest with my good arm. “No, Lang.”

  He sighed and nodded. “Sorry.”

  Still, he finished feeding me. It was strange and intimate, but I didn’t hate it, so I let him. I was only so strong. My body and my lioness were demanding I find comfort in him, but I had to remember that this wasn’t the real Lang. He wasn’t really the kind, attentive guy taking care of me. He just wasn’t.

  20

  Lang

  “Tell me about your life.” I was sitting on the floor, leaning my back against the couch that Muddy was lying on and I’d been there for over an hour with neither of us speaking. It was awkward and too quiet.

  “You want me to tell you about my life?” Her voice said it all. She was skeptical of me.

  “Yeah. You said I didn’t know you. I want to. Tell me about you. Unless you’d rather keep sitting here in a weird silence.”

  “I’m fine with weird silence.”

  “For the next day? Or more?”

  Her nose twitched and I felt something in my chest tighten. Somehow, that nose twitch seemed just as innocent and kitten like in that moment as it did when she’d done it at seventeen. She met my gaze and then looked away quickly.

  “You’re not keeping me here for a whole day. I have to get back to my business.”

  “When did you start it? It seems to do quite well.” I’d take the conversation, even if I had to steal it.

  “I know what you’re doing.” She sniffed and pressed her lips together. “It’s not going to work. You’re not going to trick me into letting down my guard around you.”

  “Please, Muddy. It’s just conversation.”

  She groaned and glared at me. “Fine. We converse. Nothing serious and nothing that’ll piss me off, though. Also, this doesn’t mean anything, Lang.”

  I smiled and nodded. “Fine.”

  “I bought the house when I was twenty. It was run down and the woman selling it liked me, so she sold it for next to nothing. I took my time fixing it up and now it does fine.”

  “That’s impressive. Twenty is young to buy and start something like that.”

  “You were probably buying and selling small countries by twenty.”

  I shook my head. “At twenty, I was rolling around Chattington, being a spoiled little prick. I had ideas about what I wanted to do, but no one was asking me to do anything at that point. Hell, you knew me at twenty-three. Do you think I was the kind of kid who had his hands on anything important or meaningful back then?”

  She didn’t answer and I choked as I realized what I’d said. I stuttered to spit out a correction. “That wasn’t what I meant!”

  But, she slowly laughed. “I know, but you should’ve seen your face.”

  I sighed and stretched my legs out in front of me. “That wasn’t very nice.”

  “Yeah, well. Returning the favor, I guess.” Her voice took on a bitter edge and she tried to readjust herself. With a grunt, she huffed out a rough breath. “I’d be much more comfortable at home, in my bed.”

  “You and me both.” I winked.

  She smacked the back of my head. “I’m serious. You should just take me home.”

  “You’re a broken record. It’s my job to take care of you. Come on. Tell me what happened after you bought the house.” I leaned forward and grabbed my glass of whiskey and took a good swig. “And make it good.”

  “I met and fell in love with a man named Carlos. He was passionate and made love like a wild stallion. We lasted for nine years. Then, I met his brother, Javier, and we ran off to Cuba together. We’re still there, smoking cigarillos and living the good life.”

  I growled low in my throat and fought the intense desire to grab her and mark her as my own. “Not funny.”

  “What about you? Have you been sowing your wild oats, Lang?”

  I shifted nervously. We’d ventured quickly into territory that I didn’t want to get into.

  “That’s what I thought.�
�� She adjusted her position behind me and swore. “Help me up.”

  I stood up and reached down for her. “Bathroom? I’ll carry you.”

  “No, I’m going home. I don’t care if I have to crawl naked through prickly bushes. We’re done here.”

  “Dammit, Muddy, you’re not going home. You’re injured.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I didn’t sow any wild oats. Will hearing that make you feel better?”

  She stopped moving and gave me a heated look. “No. Lies don’t feel better to me.”

  “I’m not fucking lying. I couldn’t. As embarrassing as it is to say aloud, sex with you at the B&B was the only time I’d been able to get hard for a woman since…the last time we… you know.”

  Her brows creased. “Your marriage?” I just shook my head. “Liar.”

  I moved into the kitchen and refilled my glass. Opening the freezer, I found a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream, yanked it out roughly, and grabbed a couple of spoons. “Not lying. You can believe what you want, though.”

  “You got cranky.”

  “Yeah, well, this isn’t the conversation I wanted to have.”

  “He’s the one who wanted to converse. Funny how he clams up when the subject turns to him.” She was mumbling with her face turned toward the wall as though an invisible person stood there.

  “I’m right here. And in case you’ve missed it, everything is all my fault, Muddy.” I slumped back in front of the couch and pried open the ice cream. “Want some of this?”

  She hesitated. “Yeah.”

  We sat there in silence, eating the mint chocolate chip from the carton where it rested on the couch next to her side. We’d both gotten irritated. Making simple conversation was harder than I thought it would be. There were so many things that could trigger an argument.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, Sunshine.” I sighed. “I just want to get to know you so I can find out what you need from me.”