by Becca Dale
The other man hesitated a moment, studying the dirty prints on the terracotta. “Nah, I should get on down the road. Take care and keep your door shut next time.”
“I will.” Ryan followed his visitor onto the porch. “Sorry to have bothered you, Jeff.”
Once the distinct GF&P truck rounded the bend in the main road, Ryan cautiously reentered his kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place. The shifter had disappeared although the stench of body odor and the heavy musk of fear hung in the air, too thick to be ignored. Searching the room, he found small signs of her presence. A dirt streak marked a chair leg and another smudged the door leading to his bedroom.
After a thorough search assured him the female had fled, Ryan moved to the yard. Native grasses lay mashed and bent beneath the thick brush. A small tuft of pure white fur clung to a low branch. No body heat remained.
“Where the hell did you go, girl?”
He rolled the silky fur between his fingers and lifted it to his nose. It reeked of the puppy mill they’d liberated the week before. Had the white bitch followed them somehow? Her frail form leaping toward a loaded weapon mixed with the memory of her faint cry as barbed wire slashed her shoulder and side. She’d been hurt protecting him. The thought angered him, but he pushed down the irrational emotion.
Nose to the slight breeze, he circled the house, hoping to find her without shifting. She had been afraid of his half stage, perhaps more so of his true form since she’d run at the first opportunity. He almost missed the long pale body lying beneath the propane tank, probably would have if her foot had not twitched to disturb the grass.
His gaze traveled over the breakable-looking woman. She slept on her stomach, one arm tucked gracefully beneath her cheek. The other lay beside her, palm up, delicate fingers curled. Dusty gold lashes curved above high cheekbones. Her mouth pressed against her wrist, muffling any sounds she might otherwise have made in her sleep.
Dirty but still nearly white-blonde hair spread around her shoulders and over her back, stopping a few inches above the too gentle curve of her butt. Deep ridges marked her rib cage, and her waist dipped painfully narrow before flaring out again to slender hipbones and down to long skinny legs.
“How long has it been since you had a decent meal?” The sound of his own voice surprised him, but she did not move.
Careful not to bump the many bruises dotting her emaciated form, Ryan slid his hands beneath her, hoisting her against his chest. She started then settled with a whimper.
The white bitch awoke pressed against a warm rock that smelled of heaven. When the haze of exhaustion faded, pain slammed through her, softened only by the solid arms cradling her thighs and back. She tipped her head slightly to study the square jaw and smoothly shaved head of the ebony god and felt oddly safe. A sentiment she had never known before nor expected. The rough fabric of his shirt caressed her cheek, and his heart beat beneath her ear in a gentle cadence.
He lifted her over the edge of a tub and eased her into a steaming bath. Hot water covered her shoulders, and she sighed appreciatively.
“Feels good, huh?” His deep voice rumbled, calming her further. He stripped off his shirt to reveal a chest of rippling muscle, so clean in comparison to her. With a half smile, he tossed the uniform top aside. “No need for us both to get soaked.”
Dirt crusted her hairless skin but could not disguise the many bruises, cuts, and scars. The few clean spots on her body pinkened with her discomfort.
The large man stepped behind her to the head of the tub. “Let’s get some of the dirt off, shall we?”
She hunched forward, hiding her hideous nakedness, but he started with her hair. Long fingers massaged her scalp, stroking over the strands top to bottom. Tension eased with his gentle touch. No one had ever been so kind.
“Tip your head back now so I don’t get shampoo in your eyes.”
The deep voice floated around her, almost unattached to the stranger. Water sluiced over her head and shoulders as he used a hose with a strange attachment to rinse away bubbles, gray with dirt.
“There that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He didn’t seem to expect an answer. Just as well, she had no strength to offer one anyway. The hot water and exhaustion sapped her dry.
Broad hands pumped liquid soap onto a scrap of cloth and smoothed it over her shoulders and down her spine. When he brushed the raw circle on her wrist, she winced and edged away.
“Easy…I’ll try not to hurt you.”
Pain overshadowed the odd combination of trust and dread she felt around him. The cloth moved over her body in a gentle caress, barely skimming the bruises and scrapes. Still, she gritted her teeth to stop the urge to scream. Soft as the cloth was, the fibers abraded sore spots. The god continued his benign chatter, enabling her to concentrate on the cadence of his voice rather than his large dark hands as they slid beneath her arms to wash her breasts and stomach.
He moved on to her thighs, and when he leaned forward, his bare chest pressed against her shoulders. His warmth competed with the hot water and sent a different kind of heat coiling through her until he washed the long cut along her side. Searing fire burned, sucking her breath away, and she could not restrain a cry.
His hands instantly left her. “Guess you’re clean enough.”
Before she could regain her composure, her feet hit the knobby rug. He gently patted her down with an incredibly fluffy towel. The new position made her head swim. Her muscles trembled and her heart raced. She clutched his massive arms, but her knees gave way, tossing her against his immovable mass.
Ryan caught the frail girl and swept her off her feet. “Whoa, I’ve got you.”
He could not understand how beings could be so cruel to one another. Clear fist marks marred the girl’s shoulders and cheekbone, and tiny white scars, obviously caused by some type of stick, blended with the raw red slashes covering her back. Despite her unusual height, she weighed very little. Her ribs and vertebrae pressed against his arm and palm. Whoever had hurt her must have kept her half-starved.
Her lashes flickered as he placed her in his bed. He tucked a fresh towel beneath her wet hair and turned down the light.
When he pulled the covers over her naked form, she offered a weak protest, pushing the sheet away. He left it at her waist. Settling in a nearby chair, he stroked her forearm until exhaustion overtook her and her wary eyes fluttered shut. Once she relaxed, he covered her thin shoulders then dug his cell from his pocket and hit auto dial two.
Kya answered on the second ring. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I have a visitor you need to take a look at.”
“Can’t Harry handle it?”
The girl fussed and moaned in her sleep. He slipped from the room. “If it was something he could handle, I’d have called him, and Grant’s out of town.”
“Why are you whispering? I can hardly hear you.”
He growled at her stupid question. “She’s sleeping. Are you coming or not?”
“I’ll be right there. Give me twenty minutes.”
“Make it ten.”
Pacing the bedroom, he watched the girl for signs of discomfort. The moment he heard Kya’s car, he flew outside to carry her medical supplies. “Took you long enough.”
She lifted her phone and showed him the time of his call. “Less than fifteen minutes. That must be a record.”
He took a large box out of her arms and nudged her forward. “You’ll never get anything done if I argue with you.”
She walked ahead of him into the house but turned when she reached the living room. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so crabby. Where’s the creature who put you in a tizzy, brother dear?”
He stepped around her and led Kya into his bedroom. “I gave her a bath and tried to clean the dirt from the scratch on her side, but that’s where I ran out of know-how.”
Kya stepped to the bed and picked up their patient’s bony wrist. After a moment, she shook her head. “Her pulse is slow. Could be a sign of dehydration.�
�� She rummaged in the box a moment then handed him a bag of saline. “Hang this up somewhere.” She slid an IV needle into the crook of the girl’s elbow and readied a syringe.
“What are you giving her?” He jerked a painting off the wall and carefully looped the grommet hole over the protruding nail.
“Medetomidine hydrochloride. It should dull the pain and allow her to sleep while I examine her fully.”
Brushing a wayward tear from the girl’s cheek, he studied her delicate form. Her chest barely moved with her breathing. “Is she strong enough for it?”
“She’s weak, but I used a low dose. We’ll keep an eye on her.” Kya flipped on the overhead light and tugged back the covers. Their exhausted patient remained still. His sister bent over the bed and examined the numerous cuts and bruises. “What am I going to do with you?”
She asked the question with no expectation of an answer, so he remained silent. He wasn’t sure he could carry on a conversation without wanting to kill someone anyway. Scars, old and new, crisscrossed the girl’s nearly translucent skin, the savage bruising more visible without the layer of dirt. Though her belly looked better than her back, someone had done a hell of a number on her.
Several scratches and cuts were in various stages of healing, and the wide, raw band around her right wrist looked infected. Kya carefully washed the injuries with antiseptic. “Here, be useful and put this on the wounds after I’ve cleaned them.”
He took the small tube of antibiotic ointment. It disappeared in his hand. “I don’t exactly have a gentle touch.”
“Just make sure you get them all.” Kya tended the most obvious sores first and then eased the sheet lower. At her gasp, Ryan looked up. The cradle of the girl’s hip bore a raised burn scar. “What the hell happened there?”
Pink letters scarred the skin. In wolf form, it would have marked the soft, nearly hairless flesh under her right hind leg. “It’s a brand. Someone marked her so she could be identified.” He laid down the ointment and moved to study the mark. “N-A-D. It could stand for about anything.” He traced the letters with a shaky hand.
Kya touched his arm. “You can’t undo it. Come on. Let’s get done before the medication wears off.” His sister removed the rest of the covers. Abuse had left the female almost skeletal. “Sons-of-bitches should be shot.”
Blocking thoughts of stringing some bastard up by his balls, Ryan went back to his job anointing the wounds. “Is the damage permanent?”
Kya shrugged. “Her body should heal. Most of the physical stuff is superficial, but I can’t imagine how she could ever forget. This kind of viciousness scars deeper than any knife.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Be gentle…and patient.” His sister stepped back and assessed the areas she’d cleaned while he finished with the ointment. “Help me roll her over.”
He set the medicine aside and carefully shifted their patient to her stomach. Beneath the overhead light, the angry cuts and scars were so much worse than they had appeared earlier. Red welts crisscrossed her back, haunches, and thighs, nearly obliterating the creamy flesh.
Kya’s hiss echoed his own snarl. “Good Lord, where was this girl?”
“In the mill we liberated last week. The cops arrested the owners the following day so no one can hurt her or the animals ever again, but she was trapped there too long.”
“Donny told me the shifter ran.”
“She did. I think she followed me home.”
His sister’s laugh did little to lighten his mood. “Does that mean you can keep her?”
Could he? The thought died as soon as it rose. The rest of the mill had been filled with animals, no other shifters. But she had to have come from somewhere, which meant someone would want her back. “I would if I could, but the girl has a right to find her family.”
Kya studied him for a moment then returned to her task. “What if family left her there or sold her? It happens, you know.”
Anger flared hotter than he had ever experienced, and he crushed the tube of antibiotic cream in his hand. “Then I’ll make the bastards suffer for every bruise on her body.”
***
For nearly a week, Ryan kept the weakened female heavily sedated. He carefully trimmed her matted hair until pure white waves followed the contours of her skull. The short cut revealed a big-eyed pixie where the abused woman had lain. Unwilling to leave the girl alone, he shifted his cases at the law office and found someone to cover the front gate at the Sanctuary at night. He nourished her body and numbed her pain through an intravenous line laced with medication to help her sleep. Slowly, the red welts faded and the bruises turned a sickly green.
“You’re looking pretty good. Green must be your color.”
Once her body healed, she could work on recovering in other ways, but he wanted to see her eyes, one golden brown the other the brightest blue. Even in her sleep, she jerked at his touch on her arm, and he stepped back from the bed. “It’s okay. No one will ever hurt you again.”
The IV bag had dripped nearly empty. He pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed Kya.
“Yes, brother dear?”
He chuckled at her standard sarcasm. “Can you come give the all clear sometime today, so we can ditch the IV?”
“Sick of playing nursemaid already?”
“No.”
Kya laughed at his short-tempered response.
He ran a hand over his head and took a deep breath. “Nadi looks better, so I thought maybe we could let her wake up.”
“Nadi?”
“Yeah, I have to call her something.”
“So, you named her after the brand?” Kya’s huff of disgust echoed through the line.
How could he explain without sounding like a fool? “Nadi means little bauble…no that’s not right.” He searched for a more literal translation of his native tongue. “In Ysán it means a small prize, a gift of something fragile and precious.”
“And you see your houseguest as such a treasure?”
He groaned at the tone of his sister’s voice. “Stop playing matchmaker. The last thing this girl needs is an overgrown brute in her life. Once she regains consciousness and sees me, she’ll run like hell.”
“Why?”
Kya saw only what she wanted to see. “In case you haven’t noticed, most people think I’m intimidating. I doubt she’ll stick around once she’s strong enough to leave.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ryan. I’ve seen women throw themselves at your feet.”
“Not ones who have been hurt repeatedly. Women like Nadi come through my office far too often. It’s rare they can even talk to me without cringing.”
“At first, maybe, but once they realize you’re an enormous puddle of warm, gooey pudding, they want to take you home and keep you, like an overgrown teddy bear.”
He chuckled. “Sometimes, but I’ve never seen anyone hurt as badly as this girl.”
“I thought you said she was getting better?”
“She is. The bruises are mostly gone. She hasn’t had a fever for two days, and her wounds look good. Healthy pink instead of angry red. But the emotional stuff worries me.”
“There’s not much you can do about those things. At least not until she can talk about it.”
Nadi whimpered in her sleep. He brushed a wayward curl off his patient’s forehead, careful to keep his touch light. “So, can you come and check her over? I hate to keep giving her meds if I don’t have to.”
“Can’t today. Lynx had her baby shots yesterday. She’s running a temp, and Ja’s out of town. I’m stuck.”
The mention of his tiny niece brought a grin. She was so damned smart. Learned to shift way earlier than most, and popped from form to form like a pro. The sweet kitten had him wrapped around her tail, and she knew it. “Okay. Tomorrow, then?”
“I’ll try. It sounds like things look good though. Why don’t you go ahead and take the IV out and let her wake up. If she still hurts, give her one of those pills I left
on the nightstand.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, you’ll be all right, big brother. Call me if you need me.”
“Okay. Give, Lynx a kiss from me.”
“I will. And don’t worry.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep you posted.” He hung up and studied the slight form in his bed. Even in her emaciated state, she was beautiful. High cheekbones emphasized wide-set eyes and delicate bone structure, and full lips pouted temptingly above a slightly pointed chin. “I hope you’re ready for this.”
He removed the IV and placed a bandage over the dot of blood it left behind. Without thinking, he pressed a kiss on top as he would for Lynx then shook his head at the silly gesture. A kiss would not fix his broken treasure. “Get better.”
The doorbell took him from her before she woke. His foster brother stood on the porch with his back to the house, shoulders stiff.
“Hey.” Ryan stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “What brings you here?”
Jake turned and dropped his lanky frame into a chair. “Rip tells me you guys liberated a mill last week.” An unusually serious expression clouded the other man’s face.
“Yeah, I’d have waited until you came home from DC, but my source said a kill was scheduled the next day. Donny took pictures and the ASPCA took over for prosecution.” He tapped his toe against his brother’s shoe. “What has you so somber?”
“Was there anyone there? Any shifters?”
“One. Why?”
Jake looked down at his feet, and his knuckles whitened where he laced his fingers. “I was born there. My sisters were still alive when I ran. I took off the day they shot our mother.” He looked up, and tears shimmered in his eyes. “I-I went back, but they were gone. Maybe one of the girls survived.”
Could Nadi be Jake’s sister? Her long, slender form and big eyes said it was possible. “She ran before I could catch her. I—”