by Eve Langlais
She drew in a deep breath, cursing with each step. Guessing distances was a knack she was pretty good at. You had to be when you tracked enemies who travelled quickly on foot. From where she stood to the nearest highway, which led to Prince George, had to be at least twenty miles. The path was nothing but forest. On a good day–when she was at her prime–twenty miles could be done at a steady run.
A chemo patient with an oncoming storm, and an unknown enemy on her tail, was another matter entirely. A breeze, cold and bitter, ruffled her coat and she shivered. Could she run if need be? How far would she make it? Only a fool would keep going under these odds. And her mother hadn’t raised one.
She turned around and made her way back toward the cabin. As much as she wanted to find Zach and keep him from doing something foolish, Cyn wasn’t in any condition to go all the way to Prince George and elude whoever was behind her.
Damn it. Damn it.
She shook her head and tried not to smile. At least Zach had been thorough with his plan–which showed he still owned a pair. He’d left her isolated and with someone who had medical training of sorts. But what did that werewolf get for healing her? She wasn’t exactly wife material. Nobody did something like this for free. She’d yet to meet a humanitarian among their ranks.
She was getting closer to the cabin now. The house should’ve been dark, but the lights from the kitchen were on, as well as the living room. Snow was beginning to fall and the wind had picked up even more, whistling through the branches. She zipped up the coat even farther until a small hole for breathing was all she had.
Carefully, she approached the porch and peered through the window. No one was stirring in the living room. The Christmas tree was gone now. In the time since she’d left, someone had taken it into the house and now the tree sat in one of the corners. All the ornaments she hadn’t taken had been arranged again. Not in the right spots, but they’d been hung with care.
So he’d been awake the entire time and he’d let her leave.
Why?
The chill in the air swept into the gap and coursed down her throat. She couldn’t stay out here like this. Heading inside to attack him was an option. She had a few ornaments in her bag. She could tackle him and throttle him to death with holiday cheer and broken glass. As much as she wanted to go in, she decided to go around the house to see what other options were available. There wasn’t much. A tiny shed with a massive lock was right behind the house. The cold padlock was as big as her hand. Beyond that the trees were hard to look past.
What she found fascinating was the lack of a generator or power lines. Where did the house draw power?
Her legs buckled, a warning that she’d been exposed for too long. Time to face him again. She walked through the front door. Why bother trying to sneak in when her previous ninja–like attempt had failed?
The moment she opened the door, a cloud of warmth bathed her face. The fireplace at the other end of the room had been lit and the heat was welcomed. And the smells! Fresh, hot soup and bread.
She could use some real food after walking. Sounds from the kitchen revealed the werewolf’s location. With caution she left the coat on the sofa and she took a seat near the fire to warm her hands. The bag was in her lap, close by in case she had to make a last–minute decision.
“Did you have fun on your little trip?” the werewolf’s voice called out from the kitchen.
“It was… educational.”
“Do you want something to eat?”
Her first thought was no, but her stomach thought otherwise and growled.
“I’ll take that as a resounding yes.” He came out with two bowls of food and followed with drinks. She spotted snow on his boots. So he’d been her little tag–a–long. Quite a fast one.
“I don’t want your food.”
“Suit yourself.” He took a spot at the tiny table on the opposite side of the room. His stance was casual. He even placed warm bread and a knife on the table. The blade was large and he turned his back on her to go to the kitchen.
Did he really believe she was that harmless?
“How long have you been awake?” was what she asked instead.
“Long before you moved, I caught your intentions.”
Now that’s not good.
“You’re the noisiest hunter I’ve ever met,” he said.
“Oh, really.”
“You hit every floorboard between here and the door. Not to mention how you danced around the porch grabbing those decorations.”
She rolled her eyes. Stupid werewolf hearing.
He sat down and not long after his first slurp of soup, her body rebelled. Hunger sliced through her insides. In the past, she’d been so nauseated she’d refused food, but now was different. The werewolf had done something to her, and whatever gift had been given, she’d wasted away that energy and now she was a husk.
While avoiding his gaze, she got up and took the only spot opposite him at the table. He continued to eat, not even looking at her. Even the bread and the knife had been left on her side of the table.
This had to be some kind of fucking test. A hilarious one at that. No more than two feet separated them. All she’d have to do was grab the knife and aim for his chest. Maybe even dump the hot soup over his head for good measure.
“Your blood sugar is getting low,” he grumbled.
The hand that was supposed to stab him shook slightly. That was a bad sign. He pushed the glass of juice toward her. “Drink.” The command was firm.
She hesitated, tapping the tabletop with her fingertips. Giving an alpha control was never a good idea, but her body won out. The cool liquid slammed down her throat. The effect didn’t take long and soon enough a heady rush hit.
Next, he slid a pill across the table.
Oh, hell no. She laughed. “I’m not falling for that shit again.”
“You drank the juice, didn’t you?” His eyebrow rose.
Clever little soon–to–be dead wolf. Was there anything in the juice this time? Her fingers inched toward the knife. He left the pill next to the bread and continued to eat.
“Was there anything in the drink?” she asked.
“Cut me off a slice of bread, would you?”
He had massive balls. Even her other brother Ty never pulled that kind of shit.
She flipped the knife in one hand and slammed it down into the loaf. The table shook from the blow.
“Is that how hunters cut their food?” He hadn’t flinched. Not so much as a reaction.
“You wish.” She took a bite of her food in a huff. “Hey, werewolf, how about a little Q&A?”
“There was nothing in the juice. Just pulp, orange juice, and water. You drank the last of what I had.” He reached for the bread and tore off a slice. “What more do you want to know that you haven’t learned already? You saw the Christmas tree. You moved a lot faster when you woke up. What is there to know?”
Everything. “The reason. Zach sent me here to be healed, but c’mon, there’s no way a werewolf would agree to such a thing. Not from a hunter. I’ve heard the rumors. That an alpha without a mate would consider human women. Especially the ones with incurable diseases. They turn them into werewolves to heal them.”
He shrugged. “Sounds about right.”
“Zach is like me. He has wanted for years to take down the gang who killed my parents, and now that I’m out of the way, no one can stop him from exacting his revenge.”
“So you think I fed him intel on how to find the gang?”
“You bet your hairy ass I believe that’s what happened.”
He sighed. “Would you ever believe that maybe he did it because he loves you? That he wanted you to live instead of finding your parents’ killer?”
A part of her believed that. During all the appointments–the ones she’d let him attend–he’d been her driver and supporter. But underneath it all, anger had begun to build in his blood. Before she’d gotten sick, a lead had surfaced to the gang’s location, only
to disappear along with her health.
“Your face tells me you have doubts,” the werewolf said quietly. He tore off another piece of bread and placed it next to her bowl. Reluctantly, she took a sip of her soup and held back a sigh. So delicious. Just the right thickness for a beef stew.
He’d asked her if she had doubts. She was swimming in doubts galore. If what was happening was true, her brother had left her here to mate with a werewolf. The very idea made no sense. Did Zach think she’d agree to this? That she was that hard up she’d need to jump into the sack with this dude and mate with him? The guy did live out in the middle of nowhere, but it wasn’t as if he was so ugly he’d have to wear a paper bag. If he’d been a human, the huntresses would be all over him, sizing him up as a future husband. But he wasn’t human. He was the enemy. And, unfortunately, a good–looking one at that.
Now that they weren’t in the dim bedroom, she tried to avoid taking him in. He had the kind of chin most men would envy, strong and assured. The T–shirt he wore did little to hide the firm muscles along his chest and arms. The light from the overhead lamp hit the top of his thick hair. Thick enough for a woman to grip while he kissed her. The delicious thought coursed through her and she slapped it away before her eyes went to his mouth.
Kissing, my ass.
She scraped the bottom of the bowl. How had she eaten the soup so fast? The bread was just as good. She tried to yank off a piece and failed. Even the bread had it in for her. She used the knife instead. When she handled the blade, he didn’t even look up.
“Whatever you’re hiding, I’m going to cut it out of you.” She played with the hilt. Still no reaction.
Then she stood and he got up.
Now we’re talking. Instead of coming at her, he rushed to the kitchen.
Now that was unexpected.
“Oh, shit,” he breathed from the other room.
She followed him, seeing at just the right moment–not right in a good sense–as a wall of white rushed at the cabin. One moment the light of day filled the room, and in the next, the outside turned to dark.
Chapter Four
“Was that what I thought it was?” she asked in a quiet voice beside Kaden.
“Unfortunately.”
His hands formed fists and he took a deep breath. At his side, the hunter still held the knife, her gaze centered on the window and the blanket of white covering it.
Instead of standing there like a fool, he got to work. When he’d first moved here, this had happened a couple of times. A great deal of snowfall high up in the mountains and a trigger often sent snowdrifts plunging toward the lower–lying areas. What he hadn’t anticipated was this happening after he’d cleared most of the drifts over a week ago.
And what was he doing a week ago? Planning a kidnapping in exchange for the safety of his pack.
He stormed to the front door. Only to find when he pulled it open another wall of white. He went from window to window. Through each room and the result was the same. Most of the time there was at least one free crack. A place where the house wasn’t covered.
“Hey, werewolf, you got a loft?” she asked from behind him.
“I had plans for one someday, but it never happened. A cellar seemed more practical for food storage.” Right above them was the roof, nothing more. With the right tools they could break through it if they had to. Too bad those tools were in the shed.
Her face had grown pale since she’d eaten.
“How claustrophobic are you?” he asked. He reached out to touch her, but stopped himself in time.
“Not at all. You wouldn’t believe the places I’ve had to hide to ambush my targets. I once hid in a garbage dumpster–”
“We’ll have to dig ourselves out. Or should I say, I’ll have to dig us out.”
“What about air?”
“We should be fine for a day or two.”
She appeared calm now, taking the news far better than he’d expected. But he wasn’t worried about Cynthia as much as he was the people outside of his home who’d most likely been hit by the same avalanche. He had to get out to check on them.
First things first. He gathered as many pans as he could from the kitchen cabinets. If she attacked him, he’d tie her to the bed if necessary. Instead, she hovered close, watching his progress. He returned to the doorway, scooping up as much snow as he could into the containers. A few of them he left near the fireplace to melt while he dumped into the rest into the sink.
During his second trip, the lights went out, leaving the house in darkness. Only the light from the lit fireplace was left.
“What’s the power source to this place?” she asked.
“A cable from a generator in a shed north of here.”
“Which means something happened to that shed.”
He nodded, digging even faster. This wasn’t a good sign. Something bad had happened and he’d been too distracted with the hunter for upkeep.
She plodded over to the door. “Do you want help?”
Why couldn’t she go to bed already? Was it that easy for her to forget she was a terminal leukemia patient? “Stay by the fire and keep warm. The temperature will drop soon and you’re not well.”
She took one of the bowls. “Didn’t you heal me, though?”
He held back a grumble. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. It takes time… among other things. All I did was give you strength you didn’t have before.”
“My arms are starting to hurt again. Not too bad, though.”
He paused in the middle of working. The need to touch her and heal her nipped at him. “Take the aspirin on the table.”
“So that’s what that was.”
“No sedative this time.”
“Did Zach honestly believe I’d stay with you?”
“I guess he did.”
“All this would’ve backfired if I’d killed you.”
He chuckled. He had yet to meet a hunter like her. “You and what army?”
“I’m not at my peak anymore. Even I know that.” She ran her fingers through her short–cropped hair. Most of the patients he’d encountered during his internal medicine residency had made a pre–emptive effort to cut off their hair, but she’d left herself with a simple style. She leaned over, resting her head on her hands and her hair flopped over her face. Would it have been thicker before her chemo? Her cheeks fuller? Her hips wider?
After she had taken the pill, she fetched the bowls he’d filled.
“Do you have a shovel?” she asked.
“It’s outside. With anything else of value. I left one knife in the house for practical purposes. It doesn’t cut worth shit, though.”
She grinned. “So you don’t trust me with a knife.”
He rolled his eyes. “Just sit down and stop trying to help me.”
But she persisted until he smelled her exhaustion, as well as something else ominous. The effects of the chemo crept in. She stumbled with a pot on the way to the sink.
In a few footsteps, he caught up with her and snatched the bowl away. “No more. Go sit.”
She glanced up at him. “Are you serious? I’m not a dog.”
With ease he picked her up and headed for the sofa closest to the fireplace. She was just as light as he remembered from when he’d carried her up the mountain to the cabin. Zach had trailed after him with the Christmas tree box. At the time he’d thought the human had gone daft. Why not just leave his sister a note and be done with it? Now that he’d spent time with her, he found the man’s idea was necessary. He had yet to meet a woman so stubborn. She wouldn’t let up on her questions, either.
He almost put her down, then on second thought, he grabbed a blanket from the closet. After sitting her down, he covered her with the blanket. There, now he could get some real work done.
Her hand locked on his arm. He stilled.
She twisted her face away as if she didn’t want him to see, but he smelled her suffering, quite strong to his nose, like bitter chives.
“The pain has started again.” Her voice seemed strange, as if a knife’s edge cut through her. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Have you been in pain all this time?” He sat next to her on the sofa. Close enough for their shoulders and knees to touch.
“Zach said I’m an expert at hiding it at this point.”
“I can get you stronger pain medication if you want.” He tried to get up again, but the grip on his arm persisted, even tightening for a moment.
“I can ride through it. I’ve done it before.”
The pain had to be worse. He could practically feel the nerve endings firing against his skin where their bodies made contact. “Where does it hurt?”
“Does it matter anymore? I’ve lost track of all the report results. The blood cultures. The stool samples.” She made an annoyed face.
“I can only imagine.” He glanced at her face and she took in the fire. He itched to check her, to gather her in his lap and place his palm on her body. Would she accept his healing?
“Please let me examine you.” He rarely asked when it came to his pack. Most of the time orders sufficed when someone was in need.
“Zach always held my hand,” she finally said. So he took her hand. The palm was cold so he gathered her small hand in his larger one.
“You got a name?” She had been calling him hey, werewolf for a while now. He couldn’t help smiling.
“Kaden.”
She mouthed his name. Her breathing was far more audible now. And the snow continued to cover all the openings in the house. If he worked all day he could clear a hole, but even the needs of the others beyond that door didn’t compare to those of the woman beside him. So he sat.
Silence filled the room, except for the occasional crackle from the fire.
She hissed at his side, clutching his hand tighter. Fuck it. He gathered her into his arms. He didn’t give a damn if she didn’t want to be healed or be close to him. Let her fight.
