by Young, S.
His head snapped up, his eyes opening to little slits. “Brat,” he grouched, but it did the trick.
Curse words Thea had never even heard before filled her ears as she helped Conall into the motel room. Not wanting blood on the sheets, she took him into the small bathroom and tried to lay him gently on his stomach … but he kind of hit the ground. Hard.
“Sorry.” She winced before she hurried to lock the door and grab the first aid kit.
Inside she found scissors and began to cut off his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Cutting off your shirt.”
“You’re … helping me?”
Thea snorted. “Just catching up, huh?”
His hands lay near his face, palms to the bathroom floor, but they curled into fists. “Why?”
She’d been asking herself that for the past hour. “You covered me back there. I know you did it for your own selfish reasons, but I owe you. I don’t like owing anyone.”
After that Conall was silent. Thea spread the cut shirt off his back, revealing three bullet holes in an uneven triangle near his right shoulder. The holes were inflamed around the outer edge and silver veins amassed like spiderwebs around the wounds.
That didn’t look good.
Thea felt a pang of sympathy.
“Okay.” She folded out the kit, which was supplied with scissor-like forceps, the kind surgeons used. “I’m going to pull out the bullets. Don’t worry. I’ve done this before.”
In Thea’s experience men had a lower pain threshold than women. She’d seen men grump and groan like babies over a flesh wound that a woman would have brushed off as a scratch. So she was a little taken aback when Conall barely responded to her digging the forceps into his wounds. His body jerked at first, but he merely clenched his jaw and didn’t make a noise as she dug around for the bullet. This guy was tough. A worthy opponent.
That wasn’t worrying.
Finally, Thea clamped down onto the squashed metal and pulled it out. Sure enough, beneath the blood smears, the metal shone silver in the light.
“Why silver?” Thea asked, thinking maybe it would distract the wolf as she went in for the second bullet.
“Why … what do … you mean?”
“Was it silver that caused your scar?”
His right cheek pressed to the floor so his left, scarred side faced toward her. As far as Thea knew, werewolves had amazing healing abilities. If someone slashed his face, it should have healed.
“Aye. Silver … is like poison to a wolf.”
She pulled out the second bullet. “You’re not the first werewolf to come after me, you know. Ashforth sent a werewolf after me about three years ago.” Thea dug in for the third and final bullet. “The bastard tried to rape me … so I broke his neck.”
Conall grew unnaturally still beneath her and she didn’t know if it was because she used the R word or because she’d admitted to trying to kill one of his kind.
“Realized that didn’t work when he caught up with me about a year later.” Thea pulled out the bullet, her stomach churning as she remembered he’d brought the syringes too. Only he hadn’t been fast enough to inject her like Conall had. Remembering Conall had hurt her, Thea yanked the last bullet out none-too-gently. “Silver isn’t the only weapon against you.”
“What …” He turned his head slightly to look at her. “What did you do?”
Thea refused to meet his gaze, searching the kit for bandaging. The bullet holes were closing but nowhere near as fast as hers would. “I ripped out his heart,” she said nonchalantly. Like she couldn’t still feel the sickening hot, wet lump of muscle in her palm.
“He deserved it. But you kill so easily.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was a statement. Like he knew her.
Enraged, Thea cut him a dark look. “Oh yeah,” she said, her voice filled with venom. “It’s so fucking easy.”
After that there was silence between them. Thea cleaned up his back and taped bandages over the bullet wounds. There was no more blood, however, and the silvery veins had all but disappeared.
Conall shifted on the floor. “I can sit.”
Thea stood and retreated as the werewolf sat up and leaned against the bathtub with a groan. He was one of the biggest men she’d ever met and every inch of him was hard and smooth. His broad, muscled chest was surprisingly so. Thea would have thought as a wolf, he’d be covered in hair. However, there was only a light dusting of a happy trail down his incredibly roped six-pack.
And I need to stop staring at the half-naked, angry werewolf. “Okay. Well … I’ll go get your rucksack so you can change out of those bloody jeans.”
Afterward she left Conall to dress in the bathroom and she wandered outside. There really were no other cars in sight. Just Conall’s.
It would have to do for now.
Stepping back inside the motel room, Thea halted as Conall came out of the bathroom. His height caused a logistical problem for her next move.
Although his color hadn’t fully returned to normal, the wolf was looking much stronger. She didn’t know if she could take him in a fight when he was at full strength, which was more than a little concerning. As if he’d read her mind, he cut her an expressionless look. “You should have left me to die, lass.”
“Probably. I guess I’m just going to have to take the chance you were bluffing.”
He frowned and opened his mouth to question her, but Thea had already made her move.
Before he could comprehend it, she was on the bed behind him and reaching for his head before his weakened reflexes could catch up.
The crack of his neck echoed around the room, causing a sick lurch in Thea’s stomach.
For some reason, stupid tears stung her eyes as she watched his body hit the ground with an almighty thud. Why should she care? It wasn’t like he was dead. She’d knocked him out. For … however long he took to heal.
And he had stuck her with that goddamn injection.
Speaking of …
Thea jumped off the mattress, avoiding Conall’s body. Earlier when she’d been treating his wounds, she’d spied the syringes in the first aid kit. Grabbing them, Thea hurried out of the motel room and toward the fields beyond. Quickly she dug a hole with her bare hands and buried the syringes. Hurrying back, she avoided staring at Conall because he looked very much dead.
She grabbed his wallet and as she took his money, leaving him his credit cards, a folded-up photograph caught her attention. Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled it out. Smoothing her fingers across the picture, she spotted who she thought was Conall only to realize it wasn’t. The man who looked like him was standing next to a much younger Conall, and Thea deduced it was his father. The younger Conall had his arm around the waist of a small, redheaded girl buried into his side. And beside the man she’d mistaken for Conall was a beautiful redheaded woman.
Was this Conall and his family?
They were standing on a rocky beach, a beautiful lake and mountains behind them.
Thea wondered which one of them was sick. Which of these people was he willing to sacrifice her for?
Memories of her own parents swelled in her throat, burning and screaming to get out. But Thea shoved them back down as she shoved the photograph into his wallet.
There were times she pulled those memories out and let herself swim in the pain because it was worth it to remember the happy moments.
But now was not the time.
With a ruthless supernatural sure to wake up from a broken neck wanting to kill her, and some unknown entity out there hunting her too, now was very much the time to go.
In the darkness came the pain. It cut through, awakening him, until he laid immobilized by what felt like a sword through his neck.
He drowned in confusion, the agony making it hard to swim out. But there, a glimmer on the surface, was the memory.
She’d broken his neck.
Conall’s current awareness t
old him he was already healing and knitting back together, but an injury like this could take time if he just laid there.
No. He’d have to shift to accelerate the painful healing process. He didn’t want anyone to find him like this. And he had a brat to hunt.
He pushed the shift, unconsciousness threatening as he strained his injuries, attempting to feel the first tingle of transformation. Finally, he felt it in his fingertips, his growls garbled and low in his ears as he forced himself to continue through the misery. Usually shifting was akin to stretching his body after hours of being cramped in one position.
Not today.
Today it was like fire scoring down his spine.
Still, it had to be done.
His muscles burned, his bones cracked. Fur pierced through his skin like goosebumps.
And then as his spine changed, as the wolf took over, he almost blacked out from the pain as his neck snapped back into place.
After a few seconds of panting, he opened his eyes and took in the room as a wolf. Despite the darkness of night, he could see better than in his human form, especially in his peripheral. He could hear the traffic of the motorway in the distance as if it ran right outside the room.
Stretching, he finally stood on all fours and gave a breathy huff.
The small room was empty except for his rucksack.
Smelling blood, he turned toward the bathroom and saw the floor tiles smeared with his from the bullet wounds. That would need cleaning up before he left. Sniffing around the room, he caught her scent on the first aid kit and bared his teeth, a growl rumbling from his belly.
Padding across the room, his nose to the ground, he could smell her everywhere.
He stared at his tattered clothes on the floor and then at the room’s closed door. If it were up to him, he’d take off after her like this. He’d knock out the motel room door like a battering ram and run along the motorway to get to her. Unfortunately, it was too dangerous.
With one last snarl, he pushed on the shift. This time it was far more pleasant.
As the room darkened and cool air blew across his skin, Conall sat back on his heels and instinctively rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck. There was no pain and no inflammation. It was as good as new. Standing, he felt relief to realize he was stronger than before Thea had broken his fucking neck. He strode into the bathroom and turned to look at his back in the mirror above the sink. There were three tiny scars because the bullets had been silver, but otherwise the wounds had completely healed.
He walked back into the bedroom and pulled his last clean pair of jeans and shirt out of the rucksack. As Conall dressed he tried to make sense of what had happened that day. He assumed it was still the same day or the motel owner would have shown up to kick him out.
Thea had saved his life.
Instead of leaving him to die in that car park, she’d saved him.
And then she’d broken his neck, knowing it wouldn’t kill him, but that it would give her a head start.
He felt out her scent and knew instinctively, as always, which direction to take to find her.
Instead Conall slumped on the bed.
The wolf in him wanted to hunt her, to pin her and force her to show her belly in submission and admittance of wrongdoing. Another alpha might want to force her submission in other ways that made Conall’s skin crawl. Like the werewolf Thea said had tried to rape her.
And where she’d learned that breaking his neck wouldn’t kill him.
Warring between his anger and confusion, Conall glared at the blank wall, trying to make sense of this information.
Why had she not left him to die?
Was it a manipulation? So that if he found her again, he’d show mercy, or worse, be lulled into a false sense that maybe Thea Quinn wasn’t the villain Ashforth had made her out to be?
But no. She’d admitted to ripping that wolf’s heart out. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but she said it like it wasn’t the first time she’d done it. And they both knew her victims weren’t always psychopathic rapist werewolves, but innocent people.
She was manipulating Conall.
On the off chance that his tracking ability proved to be real, she’d saved his life to soften him.
Well, it would not soften him. Not only did he need to find the murderous brat, he had to find her before whoever sent those humans after them, found her.
Someone else knew the value of Thea, which meant Conall was now hunter and bodyguard. He huffed at himself as he stood. Some fucking bodyguard. He’d never been so caught unawares as he had been these last twenty-four hours. But now he was more prepared.
(A) There was someone after Thea and they knew Conall was a wolf, so he’d avoid bullets from now on.
(B) Thea Quinn was the fastest fucking supernatural he’d ever come up against.
Conall gathered his stuff into his rucksack and as he grabbed the first aid kit, he discovered the syringes were missing. Not that it mattered. Drugging her was too risky. They were useful in bringing her to heel and Conall no longer cared about causing her pain, but they weakened the connection. She probably thought she’d gotten one over on him, taking the damn things.
Things got slightly more difficult when he discovered she’d taken all his cash. Thankfully, she’d left his credit cards. The car was missing and with it his phone. However, he had his passport and her fake one in the rucksack.
After sniffing around outside the almost-deserted motel, Conall found a locked door that led to cleaning products. Keeping his head low in case there were any cameras, he broke in, grabbed what he needed, and cleaned the bathroom floor of his blood. Once he’d wiped down the room, he returned the cleaning products and went to the motel room reception.
It was closed.
Conall posted the room key through the door and began to walk toward the motorway. He’d been out of it when Thea drove them here so he could only hope there was more than a motel around.
His relief came soon when he discovered the petrol station. Walking inside, Conall could feel the tension of the man behind the counter as he took in Conall’s size and countenance. He was an older man, tall, and well built. But no matter how congenial Conall was, humans seemed to sense they were no longer the top of the food chain when he was around.
“Pay phone?”
The man frowned in confusion.
Fucking great.
Conall held his thumb and pinky to his mouth. “Pay. Phone.”
His brow cleared. “No.”
“Do you have one I could borrow?”
Another frown.
Fuck.
He mimed some more, feeling like an arse, but the man cottoned on and pulled his phone out of his pocket and gestured to Conall. Grateful, Conall thanked him and took the phone. He didn’t know Ashforth’s number, but he knew James’s.
His beta didn’t pick up.
Conall was just about to throw the stranger’s phone at a wall in disgruntled impatience when the phone rang again. It wasn’t James’s number, but it was the UK country code. “Conall,” he answered abruptly.
“What happened to your phone?” Ashforth asked.
That man’s voice was beginning to goddamn grate. Conall moved away from the cashier. “Why is James not answering his?”
“I told you I want to be in control of this, Conall. I can’t have you communicating with your beta behind my back. James agreed to the confiscation.”
Outrage rose from his gut, but Conall stifled it. Now was not the time. “My sister is okay?”
“She’s as well as when you left her.”
“I’ll want to speak to her and James in the morning. That’s not a request.”
Ashforth hesitated but then, “Of course. Now will you tell me what has happened?”
“Someone who knew what I am attacked us. Thea got the better of me in the confusion. I came to and the car, my phone, and my money are missing.”
“Someone else is after her?”
“Aye. Now I know t
hat, I can be more vigilant.”
“I told you she was tricky.”
“Aye, an understatement. I need a car, money, and a new phone.”
“Find out where you are, and I’ll arrange everything. I’ll also track down the other car. She probably abandoned it, but it’ll give you a starting point.”
Conall curled his lip, impatient to catch up with the lethal brat. “No need. I know where she is.”
“Of course.” Ashforth sounded extremely satisfied, gloating almost. “It’s wonderful to know she’ll never be able to outrun me again.”
Outrun me, Conall corrected inwardly. She’ll never be able to outrun me. That knowledge created an unexpected feeling of satisfaction for Conall too.
“I’ll see if I can find out who might be after you,” Ashforth continued. “Now, where are you?”
Conall returned to the cashier to ask where they were. Finally, after a long moment of miscommunication, they figured it out.
Conall waited at the petrol station for an hour; he felt the cashier’s eyes constantly on him. Just as he was sure the guy was readying to call the police, two cars pulled up outside, and a stranger got out of the first. The man strode inside, his eyes going straight to Conall’s.
“Chief MacLennan?” he asked in a thick, Polish accent.
Conall nodded.
“Come with me?”
Following the man outside, he huddled next to Conall and handed over the car keys. He then discreetly passed over a wad of cash, along with a new phone. After Conall thanked him, the man nodded, walked to the second car, got in, and the car drove off.
Conall pondered this, wondering at Ashforth’s connections, that he could pull this off in a little over an hour. He threw his rucksack into the car and turned back to the station. Grabbing some food he could snack on as he drove, he paid for it and then added extra as a thank-you for the use of the phone.
The cashier remained unsure, but he smiled his thanks and Conall tried his best not to hurry. Neither he nor Thea needed the police joining the hunt as a second outside entity.
As he pulled onto the motorway, steering with one hand and holding a protein bar with the other, he ripped open the packaging with his teeth and made a sound of anticipation in the back of his throat. Thea Quinn would be back in his grasp and he would enjoy the moment she realized he hadn’t been bluffing—when it finally sunk in that no matter where she ran, he could find her.
