by RJ Blain
Laughing, he shook his head and picked up both dishes he’d set down for me. “I wasn’t going to steal it from you. There’s plenty more if you want some later. It’s too damned cold for you to go outside, especially since a stiff breeze could probably knock you over right now, so I’ll set the bathroom up so you can reach everything you need.”
I’d never been one for truly vivid dreams, and the times I had had one, they never involved such mundane things. Whether unaware of my embarrassment or choosing to ignore it, Ryan headed to the sink, rinsed the dishes, and put them away in the dishwasher. I emerged from my hiding place, limping in his wake to observe his behavior as he restored the kitchen to perfection, finishing with wiping down the counters.
“I’d start the dishwasher now, but it isn’t hooked to the generator. It could be a while before power comes back. The generator has its work cut out for it running the necessities, the emergency lights, and the other stuff in this place.” Ryan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “The weather works in our favor, though. You need the time to heal and get used to things. I hadn’t wanted it to be this way. I meant to wait until the full moon, but that didn’t work out so well, did it?”
I sat and cocked my head to the side, pricking my ears forward in what I hoped he’d recognize as my interest.
“I’ve botched this, to say the least. I just couldn’t let you die in the airport, but I couldn’t let you change, either. I wasn’t even sure if it would work, but I was desperate. I should have asked you first. There’s a lot of things I should have done. I’m not supposed to make anyone into a werewolf. I don’t have a pack. Haven’t had one in years. Still don’t want one. I work better on my own.”
Ryan paced around the kitchen, pausing now and then to adjust something on the counters or wipe away some spot of dirt. Limping after him, I sat within several feet, stretching my neck in order to look up at him.
“Under normal circumstances, I would have told you everything first. I would have told you what to expect, how things would change for you, and help you adapt. The ritual would have been done by a proper Alpha instead of a rogue like me. A lot of things would have been different. You would have had a choice. You didn’t exactly have a lot of choice, though. You don’t seem like the quitting kind to me, and you would’ve died in the airport if I hadn’t done what I did.”
The bitterness in Ryan’s voice was matched by a subtle souring of his scent. He leaned against the counter and studied the floor at his feet as though the veined pattern in the tiles hid the mysteries of the universe.
I waited.
“I should have found out your name and contacted you. Found out if you were interested. Date you, convince you I was the type of man you wanted around, and then, once I was certain you wouldn’t go running and screaming for the hills, show you what I am. What I wanted you to be with me. You would have sworn not to tell a word, because we can’t. Fenerec—that’s what us werewolves call ourselves—are usually killed if we slip. They might consider my circumstances. Maybe.”
Ryan went back to pacing, and I stayed out of his way. An unsettled feeling spread through me. The implication Ryan would be put to death froze me to my bones.
“I’m supposed to be one of the smart ones. One of the ones in full control. That’s why they let me loose without a pack. That’s why they call me in when a pack fucks things up and they need someone to clean up the mess. That’s why I was even at the airport, because word got around some wolves were doing shit they weren’t supposed to be doing. Too bad they hadn’t figured out an entire pack had gone rogue and decided to go the terrorist route for money.” Ryan balled his hand into a fist and thumped the counter. “A lot of people are dead because I didn’t figure it out, either—not until it was too late.”
His sigh carried too much weight, and I limped forward to sit beside his feet.
Until I had become a dog—a wolf—I never would have believed emotion had a scent. I never would have believed how adept my nose could be at identifying which emotions were which.
A shadow surrounded Ryan, cloaking him as his guilt and anxiety strengthened. With my nose’s help, I understood what the miasma surrounding him meant. Strong, negative emotions bled from him, affecting more than just his scent.
Unlike with Harthel, I didn’t get a sense of malice from Ryan, but it didn’t keep me from shivering.
“So, here we are. I’m in deep shit because I broke almost every taboo by making you a wolf so you’d live. I’m in deeper shit because I went outside of channels and did an unapproved op on my own. If I don’t show up with you—as a human with control over your wolf—both of our heads will roll.” Ryan lifted his hands and ran them through his hair. “Every fucking instinct I have wants me to keep you as a wolf to give you a chance to heal, but you can’t learn control until you’ve gone through the ritual sickness. That’s the period when your body—your human one—goes through some changes because you’re not quite human anymore. It usually takes three or four days. For you, it’ll probably take longer. Once the storm blows over, I’ll have Inquisitors knocking at the door demanding an explanation.”
I turned both my ears back and showed him my teeth. The temptation to chew on his ankles until he gave me an explanation I understood competed with my natural inclination to wait in silence.
Ryan sighed. “I don’t want to put you through the pain of changing forms.”
With his help, I could return to being a woman again? I grabbed hold of his jeans in my teeth and growled a warning. If he even thought about denying me a chance to ask him questions, to understand what had happened, I would chew his ankles until he pleaded for mercy.
“You’ve been hurt enough.”
I growled again, jerking on his jeans. He sighed his surrender.
There were different levels of pain, and I was intimately familiar with most of them. Every time Dad went to the gym, I experienced the dull ache of used muscles and the stiffness associated with exercise. Illness had a different sort of pain, but I had been fortunate enough to avoid it most of the time.
I’d endured sprains and other injuries in gymnastic classes before I had gotten too involved with work to continue the sport, but Harthel had introduced me to the agony of broken bones.
Nothing prepared me for the searing burn of changing from a small, wolf’s body to a woman’s. I wasn’t sure what Ryan had done to me, but he touched my shoulder, and my entire body shattered to pieces. A wolf so small shouldn’t have had the mass to transform into a human body, yet my bones cracked, stretched, reformed, and grew while my fur melted away to raw skin.
It hurt too much to scream, although choked cries found their way out of my throat. I shuddered, and I could smell blood in the air—mine.
Through it all, Ryan remained crouched nearby, not quite touching me, but close enough his breath caressed the back of my neck.
When the pain transitioned to the dull ache of bruises, I went limp, shuddering on the cold bathroom tiles. My breathing wheezed, although I was able to gulp down entire lungfuls of air.
“Thirty-nine minutes,” Ryan murmured, rising from my side. “Longer than I like, better than I feared. Lie still for a few minutes. I’ll fill the tub. In about an hour, the first of the ritual sickness symptoms should begin. In the meantime, I’ll try to answer all the questions I can.”
Moments later, the sound of running water filled the bathroom. Ryan’s back was to me. It was then I realized I was naked from head to toe. My face burned with my embarrassment, and I lurched upright.
Every muscle and bone in my body protested the movement. I shuddered, bracing my weight on one hand so I wouldn’t flop back to the floor. Blood and bruises darkened my skin, leaving nothing untouched from Harthel’s blows. My ribs and stomach were the worst, the bruising so dark they were black. I flexed my hands, and while both of my wrists ached, nothing felt broken.
The little hope I had of dreaming crumbled apart at the reminders of what Harthel had d
one to me. The evidence was branded onto my skin, denying me the ability to pretend I dreamed. I wanted to wake up so everything would disappear, but I wouldn’t.
I didn’t even have to pinch myself to confirm I was awake; touching my leg was enough to hurt. I swallowed, shivering from more than just the cool bathroom tiles.
Ryan turned to me, and his gaze focused on my face before sweeping down, taking in every inch of me. His stare focused on my ribs, and the muscles of his cheek twitched. Kneeling beside me, he reached out and traced his fingers over my ribs, applying enough pressure I clenched my teeth.
“Your name isn’t Ryan. I looked for you.” My words rasped out of my aching throat.
“You looked for me?”
“Passenger list. You weren’t on it.”
Ryan chuckled, shaking his head before rising to his feet. After he checked on the tub, he turned to face me, and smiled. “Ryan’s my middle name. I like it more than I like Dexter Cole.”
“Dexter Cole,” I echoed, considering his name. I liked it, but I liked Ryan better. “Matia Evans.”
For a long moment, Ryan said nothing, his expression puzzled. “I’ve heard that name before. Who are you?”
“Corporate paper pusher,” I grumbled, shaking my head. “Some idiot thought it’d be funny to put me on an eligible bachelorette list for New York, too.”
Ryan snapped his fingers. “Everyone was talking about the father and daughter pair up on the bachelor and bachelorette list. Is that why that asshole grabbed you?”
Wrinkling my nose, I sighed and wondered just how much I wanted to tell Ryan. “No. He wanted revenge because my father fired him.”
“He did that to you because he was fired.” Ryan balled his hands into fists and turned to the tub, shutting off the taps.
With the help of the toilet, I got to my feet. I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling to the floor.
Ryan turned to face me, his eyes narrowing as he looked me over again, his attention focusing on my feet. “Your feet don’t hurt?”
“They mostly healed while I was in the hospital,” I whispered.
Closing the distance between us, Ryan took hold of my elbow in a gentle but firm grip, pulling me in the direction of the tub. Before I had a chance to try to climb in on my own, he placed his hands on my hips and lifted me up. I gasped at the heat on my feet. Ignoring my wordless protest, he lowered me in.
The water was deep enough to cover me right up to my chin, and I leaned against the back with a heavy sigh.
“If you want bubbles, I’ll start up the jets. I don’t have a lot of soaps. I don’t usually bring anyone here.”
“The jets would be good,” I mumbled, fighting the urge to submerge and give myself the illusion of hiding. Bubbles would hide the bruises for a little while, too. “Dish soap is fine.”
Ryan laughed, crossing the bathroom to a panel on the wall. “I can do better than dish soap. I’m probably the only man who has his generator set up for the jacuzzi and chooses to sacrifice the television and other appliances to make up for it. The coffee maker, refrigerator, emergency lights, water heater, and the jacuzzi are all hooked up. I use an oil furnace, too. Never know when the power will go out in the mountains.”
“Sounds like you have your priorities straight to me.”
The jacuzzi rumbled to life, and I sighed when the jets hammered at my sore, aching muscles. Closing my eyes, I leaned back, resting my head against the ridge of the tub. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything. Helping me. You didn’t have to. I don’t even know how you found me.”
Ryan crouched in front of the sink’s vanity, opened one of the doors, and pulled out several bottles, which he set on the edge of the jacuzzi. “That Harthel fellow made a few mistakes. I didn’t find out who he was sending the photographs to, but he used a special server to mask his location. Unfortunately for him, the server’s owned by a friend of mine. He noticed the odd activity and decided to take a peek at what Harthel was doing. My friend gave me a call and dropped the info in my lap after doing a traceback to Harthel’s IP address. Harthel had hired him to mask some other activities, so he had the man’s number, which he gave to me. I recognized you right away and decided to take matters into my own hands.”
I gritted my teeth, leaned forward, and grabbed one of the bottles, squinting to read the label in the dim lighting. Lavender worked for me, so I opened the cap and dumped some of the soap in. The jets worked their magic, and within moments, the soothing scent filled my nose.
“He was sending them to my father.”
“I regret giving that fucker a chance to escape.” Ryan growled, low and deep. “I’ll be right back.”
Marching out of the bathroom, he left me alone to relax in the water. The jets massaged my muscles while reminding me of every bruise mottling my skin. I sighed and closed my eyes, wondering what I’d tell Dad.
When Ryan returned, he had a cell phone in his hand. Perching on the side of the jacuzzi, he unlocked the device and tapped at the screen. “I’ll talk to your father. Ralph Evans, correct? The businessman.”
I flinched. “I don’t know what to tell him.”
“Leave that to me. I plan on twisting the truth a little to help cover the fact you’re healing far faster than possible. There are certain rules we werewolves have to follow. I’ll teach you over the next few days. Fortunately, even the Inquisition would be hard pressed to get anyone up here during this storm, so we have some time. Not as much time as I would like, but time. We have options.”
“You broke the rules helping me.”
“I did.” Ryan sighed, shaking his head. “I broke quite a few rules, actually. It won’t surprise me if the Inquisition decide to put my head on a silver platter. Trust me on this one, you want absolutely nothing to do with silver now.”
“Why?”
“You really don’t know anything about the Inquisition?”
It was my turn to shake my head. “Nothing. Never heard of them before today.”
“That’ll complicate things. Think of them as the police of the supernatural world. Their job is to make certain Normals don’t know about us and prevent them from becoming victims to rogue werewolves, witches, and other magic users. It’ll take days to give you a full debriefing on it—days we don’t have right now. I’m planning on telling your father I found you by serendipitous accident, you were coherent enough to give me his number, and that your injuries look a lot worse than they actually are.”
“He’ll want to come.”
“I’d like to see him pull that trick off in this weather. There’s nowhere nearby suitable for a helicopter. The way up here is treacherous enough even if you know where you’re going. Let me worry about the logistics. Do you know your father’s number?”
I dutifully relayed Dad’s cell number. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
Ryan smiled, reaching over to brush my wet hair away from my cheek to tuck the stray strands behind my ear. “You’ll be able to tell him that yourself soon enough. For now, rest while you can. The next few days are going to be unpleasant for both of us.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan made himself comfortable on the ledge of the jacuzzi and dialed Dad’s number. The temptation to hide in the bubbles had me sinking deeper into the water. The werewolf arched a brow at me, pressed the button to connect the call, and held his cell to his ear.
“Hello, is this Mr. Evans?” Ryan’s expression remained neutral. I heard my father’s voice on the other end of the line, tired and too soft for me to understand over the rumble of the jacuzzi’s jets. “Sorry to bother you at such a late hour, but my name is Dexter, and I’m calling on behalf of your dau—”
Dad’s voice took on a hard edge, and Ryan’s mouth quirked into a grin. “No, sir, I am not calling about a ransom request. I certainly didn’t kidnap her. I—”
Once again, Ryan was interrupted, and the shade of his eyes brightened. He offered the phone to me. “Here.
”
I lifted my arm out of the water, grabbing for the phone. “If it ends up in the water, it’s not my fault.” I placed his cell to my ear, sighed, and said, “Hi, Dad.”
“Matia? What is going on? Are you okay? Those pictures…”
“It was Harthel. Dexter happened to be in the area and found me. I’m fine. Mostly fine. Bruised and sore, but fine.” I sighed, tempted to sink back into the jacuzzi. “We’re stuck in a blizzard.”
“You don’t have your medicine. You are not fine. I saw those pictures. There is no way—”
Ryan snatched the phone out of my hand and placed it to his ear. “Mr. Evans, sorry to interrupt your conversation, but she’s quite tired and shouldn’t talk much. I have a fully stocked first aid kit here, which includes emergency inhalers. Yes, I’m aware of her asthma. Most of her injuries appear to be superficial, and I’m taking every precaution with her health. She’s a very lucky young lady. No, I didn’t see him. Unfortunately, I had the choice between helping her or chasing after the culprit. I chose her.”
I huffed, sank down to my chin in the water, and batted at the bubbles. “I have horrible luck.”
“Matia says she has horrible luck,” Ryan relayed, shaking his head and arching a brow at me. “Mr. Evans agrees with you.”
I retreated into the relative safety of the bubbles, mumbling curses under my breath. Ryan spoke to my father long enough to give him the address of the cabin, explaining how it might be a while until the roads were cleared enough to reach it. I learned Ryan had a snowmobile, but it had been put into storage for the summer. When Ryan left me alone in the bathroom, I flicked at the bubbles and wondered how everything had gone so wrong so fast.
By the time Ryan returned without his phone, my stomach was doing flip flops, and instead of soothing, the jets agitated my nausea. I swallowed.
“You’re turning a shade of gray-green,” Ryan reported, pausing in the doorway to turn off the jacuzzi. Once the jets gurgled and died away, he plunged his hand into the jacuzzi, hunted down the stopper, and pulled it free. “Time to get you out of there and into bed. Mr. Evans will be calling back in the morning to check on you.”