It would be so easy to give in to the inevitable.
Then his eyelids fluttered and opened. When their gazes met, something inside her settled. “You’re back,” she whispered, relief making her hoarse.
He blinked several times. “Was I gone?” His voice was incredibly weak. If it wasn’t for her superior hearing, she wouldn’t have heard him unless she’d had her ear right to his lips. One corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.
Was he seriously joking?
He coughed and followed it with a moan. She stroked his arm until he regained control and took several deep breaths.
“You’re okay,” she assured him. At least he was for now.
“Where—” He broke off and shivered.
“You’re safe in a cave.” She dug into his pack, this time to find something to use as a cloth. A clean pair of socks would have to do. She moistened one of them with their dwindling water supply and rubbed it over his forehead and cheeks.
He sighed and angled his head toward her.
The next shiver shook his entire body. He was burning up, but he was shivering. If the fever spiked too high, it would kill him. The human body could only withstand so much.
She brought the bottle of water to his lips. “Drink.”
A werewolf bite was always fatal. That’s what her daddy always said. But there were stories, folklore that spoke of the rare person who survived, who became something more than human, who became like them.
“That’s just myth,” she whispered. But what if it wasn’t? What if there was even the tiniest hope?
She rubbed the cool cloth down his face and upper body, avoiding his wounds. As she did so, she began to pray.
****
“So what are we going to say?”
“About what?” Simon looked over at Jude’s fingers where he tapped them nervously against the steering wheel of the truck. They were almost home. They’d stopped along the way for him to clean the blood away. It wouldn’t do for anyone to smell it on him.
“About Addie.”
“Nothing. We’re going to say nothing.”
“But what if someone asks? What if someone saw her leave with me earlier?” Jude could be a pain in the ass, but he did have a point.
“We say she wanted time alone so we left.” Simple and straightforward. Nothing to screw up.
“I don’t know, Simon.”
He clamped his hand over his buddy’s shoulder, squeezing it harder than necessary. “There is nothing to know. If you’d helped me earlier, I’d be mated to her—and that human would be dead. You’ll keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.” He’d wanted Addie for years and was tired of waiting for her to come to her senses. He was the obvious choice, the best single male in the pack.
Jude swallowed several times as he pulled the truck in behind his house. “Sure. No problem.”
“Good man,” he praised. “Now let’s get something to eat.” He needed to refuel and rest, because he was heading out first thing in the morning to check on that human. This time he was going alone. And if Billy Gallagher was still alive, he wouldn’t be when Simon was done with him.
As for Addie … well, he’d find a way to make her his yet. It was only a matter of time.
Chapter Three
Billy woke in the midst of a fiery hell. Fire crackled; the smell of smoke clogged his nostrils. There was no escaping the inferno.
But even through the despair, something nagged at him. There was something important he was forgetting, something he needed to do. Thinking was almost impossible. The pain ate at him, like a monster trying to devour him from the inside out.
“You’re safe.” The promise was followed by a cooling balm across his forehead.
He tried to pry his eyes open but couldn’t. Panic swept over him, through him, making him sweat. It was as though someone had placed anvils on his eyelids.
More cooling on his body. This time on his neck and one of his shoulders. The relief was a welcome respite.
Shards of agony pierced his other shoulder. Why was this woman with the angel voice both soothing and torturing him? Surely, he’d done nothing to deserve this.
“Billy? Can you hear me?”
She called him by name. That had to mean something. He had to see her. Sweat poured down his temples. He gritted his teeth and pushed. It was harder than bench pressing two hundred pounds, but he managed to crack his eyelids.
And closed them just as quickly. Too much light. And why was it flickering?
Fire. I’m on fire.
He was also outside.
“Please open your eyes.”
Her desperation and fear reached inside him, giving him the strength needed to force his eyelids to follow his command. She was blurry, at first, but came into focus after he blinked several times. Her face was stained with blood and tears and dirt. Had there been an accident? Was she hurt?
“—okay?” The first part of his sentence got lost. He’d meant to ask her if she was okay.
She was laughing and crying at the same time. “I don’t know what to do?” she confessed. She poured some water over a white cloth of some kind and pressed it against his forehead.
What had happened?
He wasn’t sure if he asked the question aloud, or if she could see his confusion, but she pressed her free hand against his cheek. “You’re burning up. You were attacked. Do you remember?”
He started to close his eyes, to try to think.
“No, don’t leave me. Stay with me.”
Her genuine fear sent a jolt of adrenaline through him, giving him the strength to fight against the lethargy that wanted to drag him under. It would be so easy to give up and give in, to take the promise of sweet oblivion.
“Simon hurt you. Do you remember? You were a hero, stepping between me and him. You should have just left. Why didn’t you just leave?”
He understood some of the jumble of her explanation. She spoke fast, her words sometimes running together. Or maybe that was how he heard it.
His hand weighed a ton and shook when he lifted it. He couldn’t ever remember being so weak in his entire life, not even when he had the flu as a kid and ran a temperature of over a hundred and four. Elias had finally put him in a tub of cool water to break the fever.
“Wat—” He licked his lips and tried again. “Water.”
“We’re running low.” She lifted his head and brought the bottle of water to his mouth. “I’ll have to refill the bottle soon.” He sipped, even though that wasn’t what he’d meant. But he was parched, his lips cracked and dry.
Cool liquid dribbled down his chin, but it momentarily quenched the fire burning inside him. She lifted the bottle away and patted him dry.
He tried again. It was essential she get him to a river or stream. His entire body needed to be submerged. His reasoning might not be the sharpest right now, but there was no doubt that he was close to dying.
“Water.” He grabbed her free hand and squeezed. Or tried to. It was more his fingers touched hers. “Get me to water.” Speaking that entire sentence exhausted him.
“Why? I need to keep your wounds dry.”
Wounds? He caught a flash of a wolf jumping at him, flinched, and tried to jerk away from the attack. Pain shot through him before the darkness swallowed him whole.
****
Desperation clawed at her. Addie was close to the breaking point. She’d been wiping him down as best as she could, but his fever hadn’t broken. If anything, it had spiked even higher.
At least he opened his eyes and spoke to me.
That was small consolation when he passed out again, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
He wanted to get to water. If she could get him into the nearby stream, maybe she could cool his entire body down. It might not be the most sanitary thing for his wounds, but if she didn’t get his temperature lowered that wouldn’t matter. He’d be dead before morning.
Decision made, she grabbed the ends of the sleeping bag
and began to tug him toward the stream. She’d always thought it close to the cave. And when she was at full strength and not trying to pull two hundred pounds behind her, it was.
She dragged him over twigs and bramble, detouring around trees and avoiding as many rocks as she could. But it wasn’t possible to evade them all. He didn’t even groan when his body jolted. That scared her more than anything. She didn’t stop, though, fearing if she did, she might not be able to start up again.
Please don’t die. Please don’t die.
The sound of rushing water gave her energy a boost. She picked up the pace. Because it was spring, the stream was higher than it would be in mid-summer.
When she got to the edge of the shore, she dropped to her knees and hung her head, sucking air into her starving lungs. There was no time to waste. She tugged on the zipper of the sleeping bag. That had to stay dry. She’d need it to wrap him in once she was done cooling him down.
The zipper stuck once. Or maybe it was her shaking hands making the simple task difficult. She bit her bottom lip and tugged harder, finally getting it to work, peeling the fabric away.
He was still wearing his jeans and boots.
She almost cried at the thought of having to remove them. But he’d need them if he was to walk out of here when he was well.
Maybe she was being stupid and ignoring the inevitable, but she wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. Not while there was still breath in either of their bodies.
She tore at the laces and managed to pry his boots off. His jeans were harder to skim down his body. Sweat had made them damp and they stuck to him.
Should have stripped him earlier.
After much grunting and groaning and swearing—on her part, not his—she managed to get them off. She left his underwear on.
With no time to waste, she tugged off the shirt she wore, not wanting to get it wet.
This was it. This either broke his fever or killed him.
“Please don’t die,” she muttered. She hooked her hands under his arms and towed him toward the stream. The water was downright frigid with the spring runoff coming down from the higher elevations. She hissed between her teeth but kept going.
Placing her feet carefully, she managed to keep her balance as she pulled him into the flowing water. Once she had him partially in, the rest of his body slipped in easily.
She carefully picked her way toward a flat rock, fighting to hold him against the flow of the current. It was stronger than she’d thought. Or maybe she was simply weaker.
Her feet slid on the smooth river stones, and she stumbled once, but she never let go. She fell against the rock with a groan, letting it support her. “You got this,” she gasped.
Digging deep, she yelled and dragged his upper body against her, keeping the lower part of his torso and legs beneath the water. Shit, she’d forgotten to bring the sock to use as a cloth.
Keeping his body braced against hers, she used her hand like a cup to trickle water over his face and uninjured shoulder.
“Billy,” she pleaded, “please wake up.”
There was no way she could hear a pulse, not above the rush of the stream. She rested her fingers against his neck and, for one heart-stopping moment, found nothing.
Wait! There! The slightest flutter.
Acting on pure impulse, she leaned down and pressed her lips against his. It was like putting her face near an open oven. The water she’d trickled onto his skin had already evaporated.
Hot tears welled in her eyes and trailed down her cheeks before dropping onto his. “Don’t die,” she whispered. Not only couldn’t she bear that on her conscience, but she knew she’d lose something vital, someone very special.
Billy Gallagher was a stranger, but that didn’t seem to matter. Not to her and not to her wolf. He was brave and caring, had stepped between her and Simon and ordered her to run, even knowing what he was facing, even knowing he couldn’t win.
Only one man in a million would do such a thing.
She wouldn’t lose him.
She kissed his lips again. “Billy.” She said his name like a mantra. “Please don’t leave me.”
****
He wanted to cry but couldn’t summon the strength. Tiny daggers were being plunged into every inch of his skin. He wanted to shiver, but that was beyond him, his strength depleted.
It was darker now. Or maybe that was because he had his eyes closed. He worked on opening them a sliver, but the darkness was still there.
There was a rushing sound. Something familiar.
The air was crisp and clear, the scent of wood smoke gone.
Something ran down his face and trickled against his lips. It tasted salty. He frowned. What was it?
Then something sweet and firm pressed against his lips. Even though he was in pain, that slight caress reached into his soul and touched him.
“Please don’t leave me.” It was his angel. The woman whose name he couldn’t remember.
A wolf had attacked. Was she safe or did danger lurk nearby?
Giving a Herculean effort, he pried his eyes open and assessed his surroundings. He was … sitting in the middle of a stream. She’d gotten him to water.
The fever. They had to break the fever.
“Who?” He hated to ask her who she was, but he honestly couldn’t remember.
“What?” She brushed her fingers against his face. The gesture was familiar, as though she’d done it so often it was ingrained in his subconscious. “Who am I?”
He nodded, which sent another wave of agony rocketing through him.
“Addie. I’m Addie.” She was crying now, not even trying to hide it. That was bad. He must be worse off than he thought. And he already thought he could die.
His feet began to shake, the involuntary movement working up his legs and torso until his entire body was trembling, the cold of the water shocking against the intense heat engulfing him.
He tried to speak, to reassure her, but his teeth were chattering too hard. He heard her call his name, but it was as though from a great distance.
Blackness began to eat at his awareness until there was only a pinprick of light left. He fought to beat back the darkness, but it was a losing battle. He gasped—and then he fell into it.
****
“Billy!” She screamed his name, not caring if there was anyone out there who might hear. The trembling abruptly stopped. He was a dead weight in her arms. This was different from the times he’d passed out.
She surged to her feet and half dragged, half carried him back to the shore, stumbling along the way. She got him down on the sleeping bag, placed her head against his chest, and listened intently. There was no heartbeat.
With no time to worry if she was making things worse, if she was breaking open the wounds in his chest, she placed her hands over his heart and began compressions. “Don’t you die.” She pumped up and down, imitating what she’d seen them do on television shows. It was better than doing nothing.
After a short time, she stopped, tilted his head back slightly, and blew her breath into his lungs. His skin was cooler. She had no idea if it was because the fever had finally broken or because he was dead.
“Don’t be dead. Come on. Come on.”
More chest compressions followed by more breaths. She lost track of time, only stopping when she was sobbing too hard to continue. “Wake up, damn you.” Grabbing him by the shoulders, she shook. His head lolled to the side.
Pain squeezed her heart. An overwhelming sense of loss permeated her soul. She tipped back her head and howled. The forest went silent at her lament.
Laying her head on his chest, she wrapped her arms around him and wept. Despite her best efforts, she’d failed.
Billy Gallagher was dead.
****
Billy was lost in a sea of darkness. It was thick, almost like water, but not quite. It was foggy, too, a heavy mist draping over everything. He saw a light just ahead, but rather than hurrying toward it, he had the urge to ret
reat.
There was something, someone he had to go back for.
A howl echoed in the distance. It was faint, but it made his heart hurt. He turned toward it, looking away from the light, and came to a dead stop. A large wolf blocked his way.
The creature was muscular and majestic. It had light fur, almost blond with slightly darker brown patches. Oddly enough, he wasn’t afraid, even though he didn’t recognize the creature.
“I have to go back,” he told the animal, not sure if it understood him or not.
The beast tilted its head to one side and studied him. He was being assessed, his worth being weighed.
“Addie’s all alone.” He remembered her now that the pain wasn’t making thought impossible. Addie Fuller, a female werewolf being harassed by a male who wanted to force mate with her.
His Addie.
Why aren’t I in pain?
He caught flickers of memories—Addie crying, Addie swearing at him, Addie kissing him. Kissing him? He wished he remembered it better. He must have been really out of it to have missed that.
I’m dead. The reality hit like a lightning bolt, but it was followed by confusion. If he was dead, why was he still thinking? Maybe it wasn’t too late.
He walked toward the wolf, determination in every step. “You can either kill me or let me pass, but I’m going back.”
The wolf seemed to smile. Could they do that? Surely he should know, considering he’d grown up around them, but he just couldn’t remember. The fog or mist, or whatever it was, was getting thicker. He started to lose track of the wolf and began to panic.
“Where are you?”
He hurried—or tried to. It wasn’t easy to move away from the light. It kept pulling at him, as though a rope was attached to his waist and trying to drag him toward it.
He bent forward, put his back into going in the opposite direction, and stumbled into the animal. He grabbed it for support but still went down.
“Help me,” he pleaded. “Help me.”
The great beast stood over him and growled, exposing massively sharp teeth. Billy rolled onto his stomach, ignoring the excruciating pain in his chest and shoulder. He dug his fingers into the ground and tried to stand, but was shoved back down when the wolf lay on top of him.
Wolf in the Woods Page 3
