by R M Connor
“You don’t know that.” His thumb caressed my knuckles.
I kissed his jaw. “I’m okay.” The pain in my thigh screamed otherwise, but I was alive and he had saved me from a far worse fate.
The door to the room opened and I figured it was the nurse with whatever food she had promised. I was hoping for Jello, any flavor besides lime. Though, I was hungry enough that I’d happily eat it.
“Would you hurry?” Esther Miller backed into the room, holding the door open for Connie Fields.
Shit. Definitely not Jello.
“Oh, Riley!” Connie rushed to the bed. “Don’t worry. We are going to take care of you.”
Ethan moved, standing a few feet away from the bed. Connie sat near my knee. “Take care of me?” I was in the hospital, being taken care of by a nurse. What more could they possibly do? I looked at Ethan, begging him to explain what they were talking about.
“Come on.” Esther motioned her hand toward the door. Connie pulled the blanket off me, exposing my legs. I pulled the hospital gown down. “Hurry up, now.”
Very slowly, I swung my legs over the bed and looked around for anything that could cover my backside before I stood. “What’s going on?”
I tied the lower tie on the back of the gown as tight as I could. Ethan grabbed his jacket from a chair and laid it on my shoulders. Esther picked up my boots beside the door and brought them to the bed. I couldn’t bring my leg up to shove my foot inside without nauseating pain rushing over me. Maybe I would just go barefoot. Ethan took the boots and slid them over the thick hospital socks for me.
“Thanks,” I whispered to him. He pulled me up off the bed, but I could barely put any weight on my leg, so I clung to him. “Can one of you please tell me what we’re doing?” And maybe get me a wheelchair because there was no way in Hell I’d be able to walk to the parking lot.
“We have to make sure you aren’t infected.” Connie ushered me to the door.
What the hell? I gripped Ethan’s sweater, forcing him to stop. “Infected with what?” I had already gotten one round of the rabies shot. I swear I’d come back for the other ones.
Ethan, realizing how badly I was limping, gently picked me up and carried me past them. I could feel a breeze where the gown was hanging open under me. “Come on. I’ll explain in the car.”
Esther told us to go as she pulled the door closed. No one seemed to notice our movements toward the stairs. I wondered if she was working some magic to aid in our escape, but it wasn’t like any machines were screaming since I’d gotten out of the bed.
“Quickly.” Connie rushed down the stairs. “We have a short time frame after a bite.”
As if I weighed nothing, Ethan walked down the stairs with me in his arms. I glanced up at him, expecting to see the sheen of sweat on his forehead, instead, all I saw was worry. His breathing was steady—so much about him was starting to make sense.
“Wait—” I gripped his shoulders a little tighter. “Am I going to turn into a . . .”
“A werewolf? Well,”—Connie hurried him with a wave of her hand—“not if I can get my poultice on you as soon as possible.” Was this a joke? She pushed us through the emergency exit and the alarm began to ring loudly. “Whoopsie. Hurry, now.”
“She’s not serious, right?”
Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his lips drawn thin.
Fuck.
Connie’s delivery van was parked illegally outside of the hospital. Ethan pulled the back door open and I grunted as I scooted backward into it. As soon as he closed the doors, Connie sped out of the parking lot. I fell into Ethan and he helped prop me back up. The slip-proof padding lining the van was not helping to keep me steady.
“Wait. What about Esther?” Ethan yelled toward the front of the van.
A little snort came from me. Esther had a way of getting around that I did not personally enjoy. I had experienced it once before, and as uncomfortable as I was at the moment, I was glad we were sitting in the back of Connie’s van, surrounded by flowers.
Connie slammed on the brakes in front of my house, and I fell into a container of red carnations. Mumbling obscenities, I pushed myself back up into a sitting position. The jerky movement made my thigh hurt worse and I feared I had ripped open stitches.
Trying to keep my hurt leg straight, I scooted toward the edge of the van where Ethan waited. He picked me up, this time making sure my gown wasn’t hanging open for all the neighbors to see, and carried me toward the house. Now I understood where his strength came from. I knew he ran every morning and worked out most days, but it all made sense now.
His truck was in the driveway. Maisie stood on the porch with Madam Mayor. Ethan’s steps faltered. Confusion flashed across his face as he looked at me. I shrugged. There was more to her than any of us knew. I found that if I just went with it, it would work out better in the end. Better for who was the real question.
Connie strolled past us with a large canvas bag over her shoulder. “Maisie, would you show me to the kitchen.”
Maisie exchanged a glance with me before opening the door. Oh, look, we were in the kitchen. I pressed a finger to my lips, stifling a laugh. I either found myself hilarious or I was in a state of delusion from the pain radiating through my thigh. Our house was rather small. The kitchen and living room were one open room. No wonder Ethan had caught on to what we were so quickly. I should’ve made a ‘rule’ to not use magic when he was over, but it didn’t matter at this point. We both knew each other’s secrets, and I was hoping it was for the best.
“I need to make the poultice quick.” Connie laid the large tote on the kitchen table.
Ethan sat me on the couch. He propped my leg up with a pillow before sitting on the coffee table. His eyes were focused on the bandage around my thigh. A deep crease formed between his brows. His thumb ran over mine as he held my hand. If he kept doing that, he was likely to rub my skin off.
Noises from the kitchen pulled my attention away. Connie removed half a dozen jars of herbs from her bag. She set a large mortar and pestle beside them then opened a small black book. Even with her coke-bottle glasses, she held the book close to her nose as she read. She made little “Mhmm” noises as she moved the jars around in an order I did not understand.
It didn’t surprise me to find out Connie was a witch. In fact, it explained a lot of things about her that I had always wondered about.
Agatha appeared beside Connie; her arms crossed under her chest. She was more corporeal than normal. “We have a better recipe in the Wildewood grimoire.”
“Hello, Agatha.” Connie didn’t even flinch.
They knew each other, and that didn’t surprise me either. Agatha and my mother had grown up in Wildewood. Agatha snapped her fingers and the grimoire, along with the key, floated from Maisie’s room toward the table. She unlocked it and flicked her hand over the pages until they opened to what I assumed was a recipe for whatever poultice Connie was in the process of making.
Bean jumped onto the couch and I reached out to rub between his ears. He and Ethan stared at each other for a moment and then something clicked—I understood why Bean didn’t like Ethan. Since that mortifying day, covered in flour from head to toe, when Bean came into my life, he had been trying to tell me about Ethan. I just hadn’t caught on.
Maisie walked into the living room. I stared at her for a moment then my vision began to swim in a galaxy of stars. My head fell backward. I yanked at Ethan’s jacket, trying to remove it. My forehead was soaked in sweat. My skin felt as if it were on fire. Bile crept up my throat and I heard Maisie’s voice but it sounded distant.
“Are you okay?” She knelt beside me, her hands touching my arm. They were so cold.
I tried to shake my head, but the movement curdled my stomach. I cried out. The wound on my thigh burned, more intense than when the wolf had first bit me.
A plume of smoke came from the kitchen table. Connie fanned it away. The back-and-forth motion made me dizzier.
I look
ed at Ethan. “Something’s wrong.”
He jumped to his feet. “Connie!”
Were we too late? I guess I wouldn’t need that second rabies shot after all.
Sun filtered through the curtains as I blinked my eyes open. I started to push myself up, immediately hissing from the pain in my thigh. Tears stung my eyes and I laid back down, staring up at the ceiling as I waited for the pain to subside. I turned my head and spotted a note lying on the coffee table, then looked at Ethan who was sleeping in the chair beside the couch, his legs dangling over the arm.
I reached over to grab the note. My fingers touched the corner and I slid it closer. It was from Maisie. She and Zach would take care of the café and asked me not to worry and to stay in bed. She should be aware by now that I have trouble following orders. I tossed the note back on the table.
My throat was dry, my head ached. I forced myself to sit up. Putting all my weight on my left leg, I stood, then hobbled to the kitchen. I filled a glass of water and drank it so quickly that it ran down my chin onto the hospital gown.
I pulled the hem of the gown up and looked at the new bandage Connie had wrapped around my thigh. I could see a hardened, black substance around the edges, barely remembering her applying the poultice. Though I do remember her telling me to leave it on for twenty-four hours, otherwise, it wouldn’t work.
I planned to heed her warning. I didn’t know how the poultice could help, but I would try anything to not become a werewolf. A laugh escaped my throat. A fucking werewolf.
I wiped the water from my chin and heard the chair in the living room squeak. Ethan swung his feet to the floor. He raised his arms over his head and stretched out his back. As I watched, I wondered how he’d become a werewolf. Had he been bitten? Was he born that way?
A shiver ran through me and I realized I wasn’t on fire anymore. I was cold and the hospital gown was once again gaping in the back. Thank goodness the kitchen blinds were closed, otherwise, my neighbors might have seen a different kind of full moon. Ethan groaned as he rose from the chair. He mosied over, still looking concerned as if he wasn’t sure I was free and clear yet. I mentally rolled my eyes, feeling as if we were waiting on STD results. Of all the things, I never would have thought to ask a new partner if he was a werewolf . . .
“How are you feeling?” he said groggily, running his hands over his face.
“Cold.” I set the cup in the sink. “Do you think you could grab a change of clothes for me?” I wasn’t sure I could climb the stairs yet. “There’s a pair of sweats near the hamper.”
He placed a kiss on the top of my head and returned promptly with the WPD sweats in his hands as I hobbled back to the couch. His hands were warm against my skin as he helped untie the back of the hospital gown. His fingers trailed down my back, and I winced when they touched various bruises from my fall. His lips were soft against my shoulder as I pulled the gown off and let it drop to the floor.
I pulled a sports bra on over my head, then the big, dark-blue sweater. These were becoming more handy than I expected. Grabbing the sweatpants, I realized I wouldn’t be able to bend my leg to slip them on. Ethan took them from me, kneeled, and helped me into them.
“A lot of things make sense now,” I whispered, filling the silence between us.
“Yeah? Like what?” He grabbed the gown off the floor and walked into the kitchen to throw it away.
“Like why your eyes sometimes turn gold, your strength . . .” I slowly lowered onto the couch. “Is there anything I should know about witches and wolves being together?”
Ethan had this ability to invade my senses, to cause me not to think straight. His scent was intoxicating to me and I wondered if it was because of what we were. He walked back to me and took my hands in his as he sat on the coffee table. His lips grazed my knuckles.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
He stood abruptly, my hands falling into my lap. He looked toward the front door. Someone knocked. He told me to stay as if I was going anywhere. Then it dawned on me that Ethan had heard the person behind the door before they’d had a chance to knock. Did he have exceptional hearing, or was this a side effect of being a werewolf?
He walked to the front door and a moment later, Michael stepped into view. He looked at me, his face going slack, and made his way toward me. “I am so sorry.” Michael sat on the edge of the coffee table where Ethan had just been, shaking his head slightly.
“I don’t remember anything after the wolf attacked me, but I have a feeling I owe you a thank you.” I offered a weak smile.
“Actually, you owe it to Maisie.”
“Maisie?” I glanced at Ethan, my stomach knotting at the thought of Michael seeing her use magic.
He nodded, plopping into the chair he had slept on.
“Not sure what she did, but it scared it off,” Michael added.
Relief flooded me, knowing Michael hadn’t seen anything. I wasn’t ready for any more people to know what we were.
I looked down at my leg, even though I couldn’t see the bandage anymore, and rubbed a hand over it gently. I wondered what Maisie had done. She was strong, but I assumed she hadn’t killed the wolf. Someone would have told me, right? I mean, surely, they wouldn’t hide that from me.
Glancing between the two men, my gaze rested on Michael. “Do you know who the other wolf is?”
He shook his head and I sighed. Something had prevented these two from recognizing its scent.
Michael shifted, growing uncomfortable. He licked his lips and stood, walking to the other side of the coffee table. I eyed him. Whatever he needed to say, he felt the need to put distance between us. “I need your help.”
“With what?” What could I possibly offer right now in my . . . current condition?
“I need your magic.”
My mouth opened. How the hell did he know? I jerked my head toward Ethan, and he shook his head. “How do you—who told you?”
Michael raised an eyebrow, looking between Ethan and me for a moment, then answered in a matter-of-fact tone, “I can smell it. All wolves can smell a witch.”
Dealing with the pain, I stood and dragged myself to stand in front of Ethan. “Is that how you knew? You could smell my magic?”
Ethan stared at his hands in his lap.
Seriously? “Did you know the whole time?”
My heart sank as he sat there, silent. He had known the moment we ran into each other? Ethan wouldn’t look at me. I shook my head, nostrils flaring, and turned away from him. Gritting my teeth, I headed toward the kitchen. I knew it didn’t matter anymore, but it hurt to know he had led me to believe it was my own ineptitude that caused him to find out about my magic.
I could feel him behind me, his vanilla scent muskier.
“If I had told you the real reason I found out, I would’ve had to tell you—”
I swung around to face him, my thigh screaming in retaliation. “The truth!” Tears stung my eyes.
“Can you two please do this later?” Michael interrupted, and anger bubbled inside of me. Good thing I wasn’t turning into a dragon, otherwise, Michael would be toast. He held his palms out. “I don’t have a lot of time before it’s too late.”
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. It didn’t matter, I repeated to myself. I knew now. Forcing my temper down, I locked onto Michael. “How do you want me to help?”
“I need you to do a location spell.”
I would do it, but I wasn’t doing it because he asked, or even if Ethan asked. I would do it to help Eugene. If there was a chance he could still be alive, I would do anything to help find him. Except . . . I had no idea how to do a location spell.
“Maybe Esther can help me figure out—”
“No,” Michael snapped. “I need your help.”
“Esther would—”
Michael took my hand, and there was a zap of energy between us. I looked up into his dark-brown eyes and watched them turn golden. “You don’t have a claim i
n wolf matters. Esther does.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, feeling uncertain. I wasn’t sure how Esther, a witch, could have a claim in wolf matters, but then again Esther had her nose in everyone’s business. Not only was she the mayor, but she was also a Keeper. I suppose it made sense that she played a part in their business too.
“Okay. I’ll figure it out. But”—I limped away from them to sit at the kitchen table with a dull, angry ache running through my leg—“before I do anything, I want some answers.”
Impatience flashed over Michael’s face, but he sighed and sat beside me. Even if he didn’t answer my questions, I’d help, but I wanted him to believe I had the upper hand.
“Where does your father fit into all of this?” Michael was a werewolf, so I felt it was safe to assume his father was too. But I didn’t understand why he and Vargas were fighting over Peaceful Acres. If Eugene didn’t want to sell it, who cared?
“My father is the alpha of the Wildewood pack.”
Oh. “And Vargas?”
“He wants control,” Ethan answered.
I swallowed. Vargas was a werewolf too. “How does another wolf gain control?”
“Either the current alpha surrenders or they take it by force.” Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the island.
“And Peaceful Acres—what does it have to do with the pack?” Even though my leg ached, I decided to busy myself with making coffee. I knew Ethan could use some, and the dark circles under Michael’s eyes told me he could too. As for me, not even coffee was going to make me feel better right now.
“We use the land during full moons. It’s safer than being in town. As long as I’ve been alive, whoever the alpha is, controls the land, but . . .” Michael leaned back in his chair. “My father was trying to change the rules. He didn’t want the land getting into the wrong hands, so he put it in his will. If he dies, the land goes to me.”
That explains why Michael has been hiding. If it reverts to him, he really would be in trouble. It did make me wonder who all knew about this exchange. Obviously the wolf pack, but who else was a wolf?
