by Erin Wade
She unlocked the cell door and sprinted up the stairs with Darke at her heels. They stepped over Vorax’s mangled body and ran from the house.
“Caz! Where’s Caz?” Darke cried.
“Over there,” Eden said, motioning toward a group of trees. “I told her to get out of the house when I went back to the basement to get you.”
There was a loud explosion and the earth shook beneath their feet. Varoom! A blaze shot through the roof of the house. “I guess the hot water heater just kicked in.” Darke slumped to the ground as she watched the home go up in flames. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“It’s okay. Carter was right. That house held too many bad memories. Let’s build a place of our own where the only memories are the ones we make together.”
Chapter 50
“I guess this will be our home for a while,” Darke said as Tess pulled into the underground parking garage.
“I love your place,” Eden said, smiling. “This is where we first made love.”
Darke nodded as Tess’s doors opened. Caz leaped ahead of them, eager to return to safety.
“We should shower,” Darke said as they headed for the bedroom. “We smell like gasoline.”
They washed each other’s hair and teased each other’s body.
“I can’t believe I didn’t detect a wolf scent from you,” Darke said as she dried Eden from her shoulders to her feet.
“I learned how to control everything about my alter ego,” Eden explained, “even my pheromones.”
They slid between the sheets and held each other.
Just when Darke thought Eden had fallen asleep, the blonde began running her soft feet up and down Darke’s legs. “I love you,” she murmured. “Do you still love me?”
“Oh God, yes,” Darke whispered. “So much. I love you more than life its self.”
“Are you upset that I’m a … uh—”
“Say the word, baby,” Darke said.
“I’m a werewolf,” Eden declared. “I’m a werewolf.”
“It was so hard to tell you what I am,” Darke whispered. “I don’t want anything to stand between us.”
“How do I know you’re a vampire?” Eden hugged her tighter. “I’ve never seen any evidence of that.”
“My strength, my speed, my stamina, the way I heal immediately—all things that characterize a vampire.”
“You don’t drink blood?”
“You have never seen me drink blood,” Darke replied. “That doesn’t mean I don’t. How long have you known you were a werewolf?”
“I discovered it after my twenty-first birthday while I was working with Wink. I was terrified.
“At first, I thought I was hallucinating. Then I thought I was losing my mind. I thought it was my psyche’s way of coping with the unbearable pain of losing you.
“I finally came to terms with my condition and realized it was an important part of me. I thrilled to the freedom of running through a forest. The ability to stalk unsuspecting prey. The keen senses of smell and hearing. It is the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever experienced. It is who I am.
“I searched for answers in Father’s library and discovered that the Daye werewolf line is the only one that matures after their twenty-first birthday. We’re perfectly normal—whatever that is—until we turn twenty-one. Then we develop the ability to transform. It’s like going through puberty only a hell of a lot scarier, especially when there was no one to guide me.
“From his diary I learned that Father wanted Sharon and me to have normal childhoods and planned to counsel us when we reached twenty-one. Only Carter killed him and Sharon, so I was left to face that nightmare alone.
“I learned to control everything about it, so I never transform accidentally. I can control my pheromones so I don’t have the wolf scent alerting others of my true nature.”
“That explains why I’ve never caught the wolf scent of you. You’re a glorious wolf,” Darke whispered. “Could you do that again?”
“I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours.” Eden raised her eyebrows and laughed. They sat cross-legged in bed and faced each other.
“Deal,” Darke chuckled. “You go first.”
“No, missy,” Eden opened her eyes wide. “You’ve seen me. I’ve never seen you.”
Darke bowed her head then slowly raised her eyes to gaze into Eden’s. Darke’s eyes were blue—no, green. Maybe amber. They seemed to glow. She smiled the most sensuous smile Eden had ever seen. Her lips parted, and her perfect white teeth reflected the lamp’s light.
Eden was mesmerized. She had never seen anything so beautiful or terrifying. She held her breath.
Eden gasped as Darke’s canine teeth began to elongate, the top ones extending down and the bottom canines extending upward. They sharpened into fine points. Eden saw the moment of hesitation as Darke feared Eden would shrink away from her. Eden leaned forward and placed her lips on Darke’s. Her tongue danced around each tooth until they receded. Then she deepened the kiss, caressing Darke’s tongue with her own. “You’re magnificent,” she whispered.
They made love for the first time since learning everything there was to know about each other.
Darke raised on her elbow and gazed into the face of the woman she loved. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Eden whispered. “I just need to catch my breath.”
Darke traced Eden’s face with her fingertips. “I love everything about you, Eden. Your face is so lovely. I want to touch you all the time.” She traced Eden’s jaw and then kissed the end of her nose and the center of her forehead. “I never want to be without you.”
“Am I immortal?” Eden asked.
Darke’s eyes clouded. “I don’t know. We won’t know until you’re thirty-five. At that time, you’ll continue to age or remain forever young.”
“Even if I’m not,” Eden reasoned, “you can turn me.”
“It isn’t that easy. There would be dangers involved for you. We’ll cross that bridge when we reach it. I was successful with Raven, but that was an accident.”
“Your turn,” Darke said, eager to change the subject. “Show me yours.”
Eden got on her hands and knees. Her transformation was slow and easy. Soft, golden hair covered her body. Her eyes narrowed and turned amber. Her nose elongated, and a mouth full of incisors and canines appeared where pink lips had been. She smiled a wolfish smile and then licked Darke’s face.
Darke laughed and threw her arms around Eden’s neck. “Oh Eden, I love you. You’re so soft and cuddly.” She placed a kiss between Eden’s eyes. “You’re the most beautiful wolf I’ve ever seen. Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you are a werewolf?”
Eden reverted to her human form. “I was so afraid we wouldn’t be compatible. That there was some unwritten rule I didn’t understand.”
“What do you mean?”
Eden shrugged. “You know … well, you’re a werewolf killer, and I’m a werewolf.”
“You aren’t a rogue wolf,” Darke said, wrinkling her nose. “You’re loving and kind. The world is full of wolves like you and Raven.”
“I’m glad you fell in love with me,” Eden said, resting her head on Darke’s shoulder.
“I loved you the moment I saw you,” Darke admitted. “I wanted to run. I’m glad I didn’t. When did you know you loved me?”
“You had me at ‘I won’t babysit some spoiled brat.’ I decided then and there that you would babysit me for life.”
Darke sighed. “So I never stood a chance. I can’t tell you how freeing it is to love someone who’s like me. Who knows all about me and still loves me.”
“Darke?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you rub my tummy?”
The End
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Other #1 Best Selling Books
by Erin Wade
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Erin Wade writing as D.J. Jouett
The Destiny Factor
Coming in 2018
Don’t Dare the Devil
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Assassination Authorized!
Following is a preview of
The Roughneck & the Lady
Chapter 1
Trin shoved the man to safety as the falling debris rained on them. The oil well scaffolding had buckled sending everything tilting sideways. The last thing that registered in Trin’s mind was the hand laying on the derrick deck. Just a hand attached to nothing.
##
“Very good,” Dr. Heather Hunter watched as her patient moved his foot and then each toe as she touched it. “I believe we have one-hundred-percent recovery. “Do you have any pain?”
“No,” the man replied. “I’m as good as new. I swear Dr. Hunter, I thought I was going to be crippled for the rest of my life. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Your recovery is thanks enough,” Heather glanced at the file on her desk. It had taken almost eighteen months for him to regain full use of his foot that had been severed in a railroad accident.
“I’m releasing you to return to work,” she signed the papers and handed them to her patient.
Heather leaned back in her chair as the man left her office. She was thankful that she had chalked up more successes than failures during her career as an orthopedic surgeon.
“Doctor Hunter report to the emergency operating room. Potential amputee has landed on care flight pad. Dr. Hunter report to …”
Heather stripped off her blazer as she left her office in a dead run for the trauma unit. Her surgical team was already gathering in the decontamination room. Someone slipped a gown on her. She scrubbed then pulled on the sterile gloves.
“What is it?” She asked.
“A severed left hand. Care flight got it here in less than thirty minutes. The hand is on ice and those at the scene had sense enough to put a tourniquet close to the end of the amputation.” Lori Rogers, the nurse that headed up the trauma surgical team filled her in as they entered the operating room.
“How did it happen?” Heather said.
“Oil field accident,” Lori barked. “He’s covered in oil. We wiped him down, but there isn’t time to bathe him.
“Damn oil fields,” Heather cursed. “The way they keep sending young men in here, I’ll be able to retire by the time I’m forty. Don’t they have any safety protocols?”
“Yeah,” Lori snorted. “They keep a care flight chopper on hand whenever they set up a new rig.”
The patient was covered with only the arm visible outside the sheet. The face was masked by the anesthesiologist’s paraphernalia.
Heather quickly assessed the damage and the chances of a successful reattachment. “Hand,” she commanded.
Moving with the swiftness and confidence of one who had performed the surgery many times, Heather began the revascularization process of connecting blood vessels and getting blood to the hand. When the blood flow was restored, she reattached the eleven flexor tendons that control the wrist, thumb, and fingers. She carefully reattached the ulnar and median nerves responsible for finger motion and sensation.
After what seemed like hours, she surveyed her handiwork. As if God were sending her a signal, the fingers on the hand jerked and moved. The ghastly whiteness had been replaced by a light pink color. Hunter sighed as she checked the Frankenstein hand resting on the foam encasement needed to limit movement. The arm and hand were lean and muscular. “Probably under twenty” she mumbled out loud. Some poor kid who thought he’d get rich in the oil fields and almost ended up without a hand.
“You headed home?” Lori asked as they washed up and removed their surgical garb.
“No. I want to stay around until he wakes up. I want to make certain he can move all his fingers a little. I’ll catch a nap in the on-call room. Maybe my father won’t look for me there. Do me a favor. If anyone asks, I went home.”
“What’s his name?” Heather was almost too tired to talk.
“Trin—” Lori was interrupted by a handsome, older doctor.
“Heather, you were magnificent,” the man gushed, “absolutely magnificent. Your father will be so proud of you.”
“Peter, all I care about right now is a place to lay my head,” Heather grumbled. “See you tomorrow.”
Moving as quickly as her tired legs would carry her, Heather pushed through the double doors leading from the trauma unit.
##
Chapter 2
Heather rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried to orient her mind to her surrounds. It took her a moment to recall that she had performed an exhausting surgery and had crashed in the doctor’s on-call room. She was surprised to find she was the only one in the room. A flurry of activity in the hallway confirmed her fear that all hands were on deck. She walked to her office and freshened up before jumping into the emergency room fray.
“Where are these people coming from?” Heather tried to acclimate her sense of smell to the stench of blood.
“Some lunatic drove an eighteen-wheeler into a crowd at the Fat Stock Show,” an orderly answered.
“Heather,” Lori hailed her, “we have a severed leg on table three. I’m not sure you can save it. She’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Is the leg here?”
“Yeah,” Lori huffed. “It came in beside her on the stretcher.”
Heather assessed the woman’s condition then began barking orders. “Antibiotics, blood transfusion. Get her to the trauma unit. Lori, pull together as many of our team as you can. We can do this.”
By the time the team was scrubbed and ready, the prep team had the woman on the table. The antitheist was already doing her job.
Heather cringed at the sight of the leg. It was already turning blue. She located the main arteries feeding blood to the leg and sutured them to the arteries in the leg. She then reconnected blood veins. She held her breath as she released the clamp on the arteries. The sutures held and the return of blood through the veins told her she had gotten blood to the leg. She exhaled slowly afraid to breathe on her handiwork.
She reconnected muscles, bone and ligaments. She glanced at Lori.
“Her vital signs are good,” Lori answered Heather’s unasked question.
Heather stepped aside and let a young doctor suture the leg back together.
“Move her to ICU,” Lori yelled. “We have incoming.”
“Lori, I can’t …”
“You’re all we’ve got, Heather,” Lori shrugged. “Peter Pan flew his ass home when we were notified this was headed our way.”
“Where the hell is Dr. Hunter?” Heather yelled over the melee.
“Right here beside you, dear,” Eric Hunter held up his gloved hands and took his place at the table next to his daughter.
“Then the amputees stand a good chance of surviving,” Heather nodded to her father.
“The father-daughter team worked side by side until the flow of injured slowed to a halt.
“That’s the last one,” Lori sighed as a ten-year-old boy was wheeled from the operating room. “You two make quiet a team,” she nodded to the two Dr. Hunters.
“Yes, we do,” Eric Hunter beamed at his daughter. “She’s damn good.”
“You’re no slouch yourself, old man” Heather teased.
“Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee,” Eric took his daughter�
�s elbow.
“I’ll meet you in the coffee shop, Dad,” Heather nodded. “I need to check on a patient first.”
“Intensive care,” Lori told her where Trin was.
Heather checked Trin’s chart. We need a last name on this chart , she thought as she read the positive information recorded there. Circulation is good. All vital signs are good. This young man is one lucky son-of-a-gun.
She walked toward the coffee shop to meet her father. She was exhausted, and she knew her father was too. Twenty years her senior, Eric Hunter was a handsome man with thick black hair that had a touch of silver at the temples. She was certain her mother didn’t appreciate him as much as she should.
“Dad,” she kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you were here.”
“Me too,” Eric’s grey eyes danced. “It was fun. It’s not every day I get to share the trauma unit with our resident prodigy.”
Heather laughed out loud. “I’m not so much a prodigy as I’m Eric Hunter’s daughter. You’re the one that taught me all the little tricks they don’t teach in med school.”
Eric patted her hand. “You make me proud.” The admiration in his eyes made her proud too.
“Heather, Eric, there you are,” Peter Trotter walked toward their table. “I came as soon as I heard about the crash. What can I do?”
“Go home,” Eric snorted. “The worst is over. The staff has everything under control.”
“I’ll just join you two…” Peter’s sentence dwindled as the two Hunter’s glared at him.
“We’re having a father-daughter discussion,” Eric said. “The best thing you can do is go home and show up for your regular shift tonight at midnight.”
“I do believe you have made him tuck his tail between his legs,” Heather watched Trotter scurry from the cafeteria. “You truly are a daunting chief of surgeons, Dad.”
“I never intimidated you,” he smiled.
“No, I idolize you. It’s hard to intimidate someone who adores you.”
