Pack of Trouble

by D. M. Turner

  She was stretched out on the bed, flat on her back, sound asleep with the book open on her chest. Still fully dressed, she apparently hadn’t moved since Jeremy left. She already looked better, not quite so thin and drawn in the face.

  His heart skipped.

  I really don’t need this right now, Lord. I’ve got enough on my shoulders, watching over my pack. An attraction is out of the question. She won’t be staying. A pang went through his chest. Jeremy’s teasing question about the love bug reverberated through his mind. Don’t even go there. He was joking. Getting even with me for teasing him last year. Nothing more.

  He forced his feet forward and set the glass on a coaster that resided on the nightstand then gently set the bowl next to it and let his gaze linger on his guest.

  Jeremy had said to let her rest if she slept soundly, so she could heal. So he probably shouldn’t wake her unless she stirred on her own.

  His gaze fell to the shoes on her feet. He could at least make her more comfortable though.

  Ian moved to the foot of the bed, reached for one of her feet, and gently untied the laces. Just as he went to slide the shoe off her foot, she jerked awake and yanked her foot away, sitting partially upright, her upper body propped up on her elbows. Bright amber eyes studied him.

  He straightened and raised his hands in the air. “I was just trying to get your shoes off, so you’d be more comfortable. Nothing more.” Wow. She sure came awake fighting, didn’t she? Twice he’d seen that behavior. “Since you’re awake, you may want to change into something more comfortable for sleeping. Then you can eat.” He motioned toward the closet. “There are sweats and t-shirts in the closet.”

  “I’d prefer my own clothes.” She frowned and tried to sit upright. “I need my suitcase.”

  “Where is it? I’ll get it for you.” He pointed to her and resisted the urge to say simply “Stay!” “You stay put. You’re not entirely stable to be up moving around yet. I don’t want you to get hurt. Well, worse than you already are, anyway.”

  “The suitcase is on the front passenger seat.”

  “Where are your keys?”

  “Uh….” She frowned. “On the breakfast bar, I think.”

  “Good enough. I’ll be right back.” He trotted out of the room, afraid if he left her alone too long she’d try again to get up.

  * * *

  Sophia watched Ian leave and lay back on the bed, too weak to sit up. She hated to be so vulnerable, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

  Bossy manner aside, Ian seemed concerned and safe to be weak around. The other men she’d known who were anywhere near as dominant would have exploited her weakness. He didn’t seem inclined to do so. Maybe Jeremy had been right about him. Time would tell.

  They really needed to stop scaring her though. She hated being awakened like that. She could hurt one of them before she realized they weren’t a threat.

  Like the guy in France she’d put in the emergency room. Her roommate’s boyfriend. He hadn’t meant to startle her awake. She’d fallen asleep on the couch, and he’d sat down on the edge of it to put on his shoes. He’d only brushed against her leg. He hadn’t known what hit him until it was too late to react. Human heads weren’t meant to forcefully meet glass coffee tables.

  In hindsight, she was grateful it had happened before she’d become a werewolf. She’d probably have killed him otherwise.

  Thankfully, he and her roommate had both laughed about it afterward.

  Sophia had wanted to cry. She’d returned to the States shortly after that and lived alone ever since. There hadn’t been any more problems until those paramedics two weeks ago. If they hadn’t had her strapped to the gurney, she might have hurt one of them. As it was, she’d managed to tear one of the straps loose from its moorings.

  She frowned. Had she ever in her life felt safe around other people?

  “What’s the frown for? Are you feeling alright?”

  She restrained a flinch and forced herself to keep breathing normally. “I hate being weak.”

  “I understand far better than you can imagine.” Ian set her suitcase on a table near the bathroom door. “I normally wouldn’t ask, and don’t take it wrong, but do you need help changing clothes?”

  “I can manage.” She’d die trying before she’d let him help with that. Assuming, of course, that she could even sit up. She tried, only to have the world rock in ways it shouldn’t. Great. Just great.

  Ian stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, a brow raised but saying nothing. The knowing look in his eyes was more than annoying.

  She sighed. “Fine. Can you help me up?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Wrong as it was to want it, she’d love to slap that smirk right off his face. If she’d had the strength.

  Ian was oddly gentle and careful as he helped her sit upright and lowered her feet to the floor. She hadn’t expected that after the knowing smirk. He squatted in front of her, a move that startled her. Dominant men never put themselves physically below someone else. They just didn’t do it. Not in her experience, anyway. They liked to tower over others and use their height to intimidate. If they lacked height, they crowded into the personal space of others.

  “Any dizziness?” He cocked his head, gray eyes reflecting curiosity and concern.

  “Not now.”

  He nodded, stood up, and offered a hand. “I’ll help you across the room.”

  At least he hadn’t given her an order. Sophia put a hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. A move that put her right up against his side, with her hand in one of his.

  His other hand slid around her waist to support her.

  Wowee, he smells good. Wolf. Male. Cocoa butter? Probably his soap. She frowned as desire coiled in her belly. Focus on something else. Like putting one foot in front of the other and getting to the bathroom. The attraction is nothing more than your weakness responding to his strength.

  He led her to the suitcase and helped her open it, standing within easy reach while she dug out pajamas.

  “If you can help me to the bathroom, I think I can manage from there.” Hopefully. Oh, God, please, help me manage!

  It took some doing, and far too much time, but she finally got out of her clothes and into pajamas, as well as taking care of nature’s call. By the time she was ready to go back to bed, she could hardly stand though. She pulled open the bathroom door and leaned against the frame.

  Ian stood on the other side, studying her, a concerned frown wreathing his face.

  “I don’t think I can stand up much longer.”

  He moved in and wrapped a supportive arm around her waist. She’d expected him to help her back to bed. Instead, he bent over, slipped his other arm behind her knees, and lifted her against his chest. He crossed the room in four strides and lowered her onto the bed. While she’d been in the bathroom, he’d pulled back the blankets. He carefully tucked her feet under them and pulled the blankets to her waist. “Now, you need to eat. Jeremy said every three hours unless you’re sound asleep.”

  “And if I pass out again because I’m eating?”

  “I’m here to catch you.” He half-grinned. “I won’t let you hit your head or anything. I wasn’t expecting you to black out before. Now, I’m watching for it.” He set the bowl in her hands.

  She almost dropped it.

  Thankfully, he’d been prepared for that and caught it before it spilled. He frowned then sighed. “Hm. Alright. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll sit behind you and help you hold it while you eat. At least, until you’ve gotten enough into you to manage on your own.”

  Before Sophia could formulate a response that didn’t include being brutally honest about what a horrible idea that was, Ian slipped onto the bed at her back, leaned her against him, and lifted the bowl in front of her. “You could try drinking from the bowl at first. Might be easier.”

  She slowly drank the rich fluid, willing herself to ignore the warm body pressed
against her back. Focus on food. Focus on food. Was the nice-guy routine a creative way to take advantage of her weakness? Maybe Ian was just more subtle than most dominant men. She tensed.

  “Relax. I don’t bite.” He chuckled. “Much.”

  How had he guessed her thoughts? She shivered.

  A soft sigh puffed against the side of her head, sending a trail of goosebumps down her neck and over her body. “You reek of fear. Just relax. You’re safe here. You have my word.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Have I given you any reason not to?”

  He hadn’t. “No, but….”

  “I’m a dominant male.”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t believe in using fear to garner obedience. Being a leader is as much about being a servant to others as it is about calling the shots in important decisions.”

  Servant? Sophia glanced over her shoulder at him.

  Ian half-smiled. “That surprises you?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, maybe… just maybe, you’ll find out Jeremy was right about me.” He chuckled. “I meant what I said. I won’t bite. So finish eating and don’t worry so much.”

  She turned back to the bowl and reached for the spoon.

  It took about ten minutes for her to eat everything. He extricated himself and left the room, only to return minutes later with the bowl refilled. “Can you manage on your own with this one?”

  “I think so.” Conflicting emotions wove around her heart. Relief at his moving away. Despair at his abandonment. Good Lord, help me! I’m so sick I’m losing my mind.

  He wasn’t content until she’d eaten four bowls of broth and beef. By then, she had no trouble feeding herself. When she’d consumed the last, she curled up on her side.

  “Get some sleep.” Ian set the bowl on the nightstand and lowered his tall frame into the chair beside the bed. “If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”

  Staring at her all night? Creepy. Sophia frowned and turned onto her other side so she wouldn’t have to look at him while she tried to fall asleep. Aches and pains came and went throughout her body. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore them.

  * * *

  A glance at his watch said it was near midnight. Ian yawned. It had only been about an hour since Sophia had eaten last. He stretched his legs and then his back. Sleeping in a chair was not the most comfortable position in the world, that was for certain. He glanced at Sophia and frowned. Is she shivering? He got up and went to check on her.

  Not only was she shivering, her teeth chattered. She’d curled into a tight ball, and the bed vibrated with the force of her tremors.

  He laid a hand gently against the back of her neck, keeping the touch as light as possible so as not to startle her awake again. Ice-cold.

  He jogged across the hall to his office and grabbed the phone, quickly dialing Jeremy’s number.

  “Hello?” The groggy response disappeared on a yawn.

  “She’s ice-cold and shivering. The house is warm, and she’s under blankets, so she shouldn’t be cold.”

  “Uh… it’s probably her internal thermostat trying to reset as part of the repairs to her organs. You need to warm her up and keep her that way until her body reasserts its ability to do so itself.”

  “How do you suggest I do that?”

  “Do you own an electric blanket?”

  “No. Never needed one.”

  “Well, two ideas come to mind. One, a hot shower, but you’d have to make sure she doesn’t get chilled while she’s wet.”

  That was sure to go over well. Wouldn’t he need to strip her for that? If he left her in her clothes, it would be harder to keep her warm when taking her out of the shower. He knew first-hand how miserable cold, wet clothes could be. “Or two?”

  “Use your body heat to keep her warm.”

  “Excuse me?” Did Jeremy mean what he thought?

  “Allow your body heat to warm her.”

  “You’re seriously suggesting I climb into bed with a woman that’s not my mate?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything lewd or immoral, Ian.” Was that a soft chuckle? “If you don’t warm her up, she could die from hypothermia.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “No. As you know, we die just like humans. Hypothermia can kill us just like it does them. We’re harder to kill, but not impossible.”

  “Right. Fine. I’ll do what I can.” Why had Colin and Tanya chosen that week to visit the Grand Canyon? Why hadn’t he ever bought an electric blanket? “Talk to you tomorrow.” He hung up without waiting for a response.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this. Ian returned to the guestroom, lifted the blankets, and carefully slipped under them. Sophia didn’t waken, so he turned onto his side and curled around her as best he could. Her scent permeated his nose and lungs. He tried to breathe shallow.

  Chapter 5

  Saturday, April 14, 2018

  Wakefulness nudged at dreams, fogging them and pulling Sophia back to the real world. Her dreams hadn’t been nightmarish, but neither had they been pleasant. Ian had appeared multiple times, in a Union soldier’s uniform, being mauled by a wolf, finally killing it before it destroyed him. Lots of blood. Water flowed red over rocks. The scent of death hung in the air.

  She opened her eyes. Maybe reading that book hadn’t been the best idea. She’d only made it through the first story and the beginning of the second before falling asleep. If that first story was any indication of the rest, it was probably a good thing she hadn’t read the whole book in one sitting as she normally did. The first story said he’d been Turned in 1865. That made him considerably older than the mid-thirties she’d pegged him for. How long could wolves live?

  Warmth surrounded her, making her long to stay right where she was and sleep some more. Chances were, though, that Ian would roust her out of bed soon to make her eat. Again. Especially if he figured out she was awake.

  Sophia took a deep breath and frowned. Ian’s scent was all around her. Even as it filled her lungs, peace and contentment settled in. Safe. That gave her pause. When had she ever felt safe? Much less in a dominant male’s presence? Even before her Turning, it had been a foreign concept.

  Her tired brain registered a weight over her waist and a warm presence against her back. She slowly rolled just far enough to look over her shoulder. Then she scrambled away, nearly throwing herself off the other side of the bed in the rush and turned to face him. What was he doing in bed with her?

  Her movements must’ve disturbed his sleep because Ian opened his eyes, yawned, and half-smiled as though there was nothing unusual about them waking up in bed together. Maybe he was in the habit of sharing a bed with a virtual stranger, but she wasn’t.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

  Ian winced. “Being awakened by a screeching female. What does it look like?”

  “That’s not funny.” Sophia glared at him. “Why are you in this bed? Surely there’s another bed in a house this size.”

  “Doctor’s orders.” He sat up and stretched in a slow, leisurely fashion, muscles rippling under a shirt that fit close enough to hide very little of his muscular form. Were all male werewolves so well-sculpted, or was it just him?

  She lowered her gaze and swallowed. I’m supposed to be mad, not drooling over the man. Good grief. Angry. You’re angry, remember? “What’s that supposed to mean? Jeremy didn’t say a word to me about you sleeping in this bed.” Glare at him. Glare.

  Head cocked, gaze curious, he studied her then half-grinned. “You’re not really mad, so why are you trying to pretend otherwise?”

  Blasted. She couldn’t even fake a good fit of temper. Sophia narrowed her eyes and pinned him with as hard a look as she could manage. “What makes you think I don’t want to rip your throat out right this minute?”

  “Two things. Your scent and your eyes.”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

 
“You don’t smell angry. If you want to fake angry, you have to actually make yourself mad, or your scent gives you away.”

  “I am mad. Seriously ticked, in fact.” Lie, lie, lie like an old hound dog, her grandmother used to say.

  Ian snorted and chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

  He was mocking her. Genuine anger made her clench her teeth. Jerk!

  “See. That’s better. Now you’re starting to smell mad.” That annoying half-grin appeared again, showing her a double canine on the right side of his mouth.

  Somehow that flaw only made him more endearing. Sophia growled. “What do my eyes have to do with anything?”

  “When you woke up and found Jeremy holding you down, and when I tried to remove your shoes and startled you, your wolf looked out through your eyes, fit to kill.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So, when you woke up a bit ago, the wolf was content and not feeling the least bit threatened.” He cocked a brow. “Isn’t that interesting?”

  “I was still waking up.” Incredibly lame, even to her ears, but she couldn’t think of any other defense.

  “And you weren’t when Jeremy pinned you down?”

  “That was different.”

  “Uh huh.” Skepticism filled both his tone and his face. Then Ian shook his head and got to his feet, stepping away from the bed. “Anyway… you turned hypothermic in the middle of the night. I called Jeremy. He suggested sharing my body heat.”

  Maybe she wasn’t the only one who came up with lame excuses. “Right. Considering it’s not cold in this house, I find that hard to believe.”

  “Believe it or not, your choice, but your internal thermostat quit working. Your skin got ice-cold, you were shivering, and your teeth chattered like crazy.” He lifted both hands out to his side in a show of helplessness, which fell flat at his next sarcastic words. “Next time, I’ll just let you freeze to death. How’s that? Or I could try his other suggestion.”

  “Which was?”

  “A hot shower, which would’ve required me to strip you to bare skin, of course.” That quirky grin reappeared. “Would you prefer I go that route?”