“I know. It hurts.” She continued to work.
Hurts? That’s like saying the Grand Canyon’s a ditch! He howled again, louder this time.
“Hang in there, buddy.” She sounded as if she might be gritting her teeth as she said that.
He had a choice of gritting his teeth like a hero or howling like a wuss. He’d lapped up a bowl of Wild Turkey. He howled.
“Almost got it.” She swore. “There! It’s out!”
Jake howled some more, just because he could.
“I suppose now you can do your thing. Shift and make yourself better.”
He thought about that possibility, even tried to work up the energy. Can’t.
“Why not?”
Just realized. Can’t shift while plastered.
“Oh. Well, I guess it’s a trade-off. Without the Wild Turkey, you would have suffered more. I’ll apply a compression bandage for a while. You can shift later on.”
Yeah. I’ll shift later. Don’t shave me.
“I won’t.” She chuckled.
Thanks. He winced when she first pressed the gauze pad to his wound, but then it wasn’t so bad, especially when she began stroking his fur with her other hand.
Relieved that the bullet was out, he relaxed against the soft quilt. The booze was still working on him, thank God, so the pain was bearable. That combined with her gentle touch made him drowsy. Maybe I’ll sleep now.
“That’s a great idea, Jake. Sleep will help you heal faster, too. It’s been a tough day.”
No kidding. Hey, Rachel, just so you know . . . His fuzzy brain had trouble forming a coherent sentence.
“You appreciate what I did. I know you do, but Jake, I’m the one who got you into this bad situation. If you hadn’t felt compelled to shift right then because of what I’d said, you wouldn’t have been shot.”
Don’t blame yourself. My fault.
“Okay, then we share the blame, but you’re the one who took the bullet.” She caressed his ruff.
I did, didn’t I? He couldn’t help feeling proud of that.
“You’re very brave, Jake.” She continued to stroke him.
You, too, Rachel. In fact, I’m beginning to think I . . . he lost his train of thought, which was too bad because he sensed it was important.
“You’re what?” She leaned forward, as if that would encourage him to finish the sentence.
But he couldn’t finish it. Exhaustion and booze claimed him. He fell asleep with the delicious sensation of her hand moving over his fur.
• • •
Rachel sat beside Jake for a long time. Normally she would have bandaged a wound like this, but she’d promised not to shave him, and besides, she wasn’t sure what would happen if he woke up and wanted to shift. Could cause major problems. So she held the pressure bandage in place.
Eventually the bleeding stopped and she set the bandage aside, although she continued to stroke his fur. It felt so incredibly soft under her fingertips, and she doubted he would have allowed her to pet him under normal circumstances. He would bristle at the idea of being treated like a dog. But now he was injured, drunk, and fast asleep.
The last time he’d been in her bedroom, which seemed like years ago, she’d thought he was a semitame wolf. That still wasn’t a bad description of Jake—part man, part wolf, all male. In a few short hours of fabulous lovemaking, he’d ruined her for anyone else.
Nice job, Jake. Well, it wasn’t over till it was over. She hadn’t given up on her campaign to change his rigid beliefs. But if that proved impossible, she was pretty sure she’d be losing the love of her life. Unless he could see that, though, they were both doomed to settle for second best. What a shame.
As her own weariness made her yawn, she decided to grab a pillow and blanket so she could sleep on the floor next to her patient. That way she could be aware if he moved. Moving could make the bleeding start again.
First she tidied up the area and carried everything except some extra gauze pads into the bathroom. Then she changed into a tank top and pj bottoms so she’d be more comfortable. Jake didn’t stir. She wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t slept much the night before and he hadn’t slept more than an hour or two at most.
Now that she was up, she felt hungry. Worry over Jake had stolen her appetite earlier, but now she wanted . . . a candy bar. Perfect. Maybe two candy bars. Lionel would have a fit if he knew. Not only was she harboring the wolf, but she was compounding her foolishness by snacking on sugar.
She walked around lowering all the blinds in the house while she ate the first candy bar. No sense in giving anyone, especially Lionel, a peek into what was going on in her little cabin in the middle of the afternoon. He probably wouldn’t bother her, though, because he thought she was having a hot love affair.
He’d blushed when she’d mentioned wanting to catch up on her sleep today. Then he’d asked if Jake would be by later, and she’d said he might. Sure enough, he had come by and was currently in her bedroom recovering from the bullet Lionel had pumped into him.
The poor kid had thought he was saving her life, and she couldn’t blame him for that. But she couldn’t let him see the wolf again under any circumstances. As far as Lionel would ever know, that wolf had lit out for the tundra.
Lionel obviously didn’t like Jake, the man, either. He believed Jake had been careless in his guardianship of the wolf, which meant he wasn’t the guy for Rachel. Lionel hadn’t looked happy to hear that Jake might spend the night at her house. But at least the prospect of that would keep Lionel away until morning.
As she folded a blanket and laid it next to Jake, she leaned down to inspect his wound. Still looked okay. He whined in his sleep and his legs twitched, but that didn’t cause him to bleed, so maybe he’d be fine until he recovered from his drinking binge and could shift.
Plopping the pillow down, she stretched out on her back and unwrapped the second candy bar. As she ate it and listened to Jake breathe, she felt calm for the first time since the awful moment when Lionel had found them on the trail.
She was gradually becoming used to the idea that her lover was sometimes a big black wolf. Then again, he might not be her lover anymore. Maybe by trying to convince him that they should consider mating, she’d made him too wary of her. He needed her now, but once he healed, he had no reason to stay. Well, except the biggest reason of all—they belonged together.
He wouldn’t have to stick around to monitor her behavior and make sure she didn’t leak werewolf info. After this incident, he couldn’t doubt her trustworthiness. And his days of running through the woods of Polecat were over. Everything pointed to Jake Hunter selling his cabin and moving somewhere else. Where would that leave her?
She had no answer for that, but at least Jake was okay. That was the main thing. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about all the Wild Turkey he’d lapped up and wondered if werewolves had hangovers.
Sometime later, she got her answer when he began to groan and whimper as if he would die any minute. She leaped up and crouched next to him, her heart pounding. “Is it your shoulder?”
No, it’s my head! Evil gnomes with hammers and chisels are excavating my skull!
She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. He wouldn’t appreciate that. “You have a hangover, Jake.”
This is no hangover. I’ve had hangovers, and this is way worse. My brain is bleeding.
“Wild Turkey packs a punch. Maybe if you tried to shift, you’d feel—”
What if I shift and my head explodes? What about that?
“It won’t.”
How do you know? When was the last time you shifted?
“Never, but I recognize the symptoms of a hangover, even in a werewolf. I thought shifting might help.”
Can’t shift. The top of my head would come off.
She gave up arguing the point. “Do you want to try and swallow some ibuprofen?”
I guess. Rachel, my head really hurts. I mean really, really.
�
��I’m sure it does.” She kept her smile to herself, but he was pretty funny. Her big bad wolf, who’d fought a bear and survived being shot, had been brought low by a bottle of Wild Turkey. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen and an ice pack for your head. Don’t thrash around while I’m gone or you’ll start bleeding again.”
Okay.
In the kitchen cupboard she searched around and finally found what she was looking for. Grandpa Ike had loved his Wild Turkey, and on some mornings he’d needed an ice pack. He had the old-fashioned kind—a soft-sided bag that unscrewed from the top.
She filled it with ice, ran a bowl full of water, and carried both into her bathroom, where she picked up the bottle of ibuprofen. Armed with her hangover remedies, she returned to kneel beside Jake, who continued to moan.
“I need you to lift your head so I can put the pills into the back of your mouth.”
Don’t want to.
“Come on. You’ll feel better once you get these down.”
With another anguished groan, he lifted his broad head and opened his mouth. She set two pills on the back of his tongue. “Now swallow. I have water here to help wash them down.”
He closed his jaws and gave her a baleful glare. Those damned gnomes are trying to kill me.
“I know. Swallow.”
His eyes closed and his throat moved.
“Good. Now drink a little water.”
Moving very slowly, he lowered his head to the bowl and took a couple of laps. That’s plenty. He sank back onto the quilt.
“Now hold still. Let me position the ice pack.” She settled it between his ears. “How’s that?”
He sighed. A little better.
“Good.” She picked up the bowl of water and left quickly, afraid she’d start laughing any minute.
Oh, for a camera, although he’d be horrified if she tried to take his picture. She’d never be able to show the picture to anyone, though.
Maybe she didn’t need a camera, after all. As she’d told Lionel, she had a good memory. The image of her scary werewolf lying on her flowered quilt with Grandpa Ike’s old-fashioned ice pack on his head would stay with her forever.
Chapter 18
When Jake woke the next time, the evil gnomes had put away their hammers and chisels. Something soft and squishy rested against his forehead, and when he tilted his head back, it sagged down into his eyes, covering them. He smelled water inside.
Oh, yeah. Rachel had fixed him up with an ice pack. He’d caught a glimpse of it before she’d laid it on his head. He’d seen that kind in cartoons, but never in real life. He’d probably looked like a cartoon wearing the silly thing.
But it had worked like a charm, and so had the ibuprofen. He felt a hundred percent better. Thank you, Rachel.
No response. Yet she had to be close by. The air was filled with her scent.
Nudging the ice pack away from his eyes, he lifted his head to see where she was. Ah, right there beside him, sound asleep and clutching a candy wrapper. He was touched that she’d made a bed on the floor so that she could be close in case he needed her.
She lay curled on her side facing him, strands of her rich brown hair lying across her cheek. She had a smudge of dark chocolate there, too. If he were a man, he could lean over and swipe it clean with his tongue.
Sure, he could do it as a wolf, too, but it wouldn’t be the same. It couldn’t lead to other activities. Gazing at her in the skimpy tank top and cotton pj bottoms, he was motivated to change his designation and change it fast.
Speeding the healing process was a very good reason for that, but he could think of another one. Making love to her again wouldn’t be particularly smart, though. The smart thing would be to wake her up and ask her to pick up some clothes from his house. He could shift while she was gone.
Yep, that’s exactly what he should do. Time to start wrapping up this project. She wasn’t going to blow the whistle on him and the Were community. It wasn’t in her nature, and as she’d said, no one would believe her, anyway. So he had no excuse for hanging around.
What a depressing line of thought. But it made perfect sense, and he was supposed to be an intelligent being. He’d stayed long enough to neutralize her shocking discovery about him. He could go now.
On the other hand, how would it look if he left abruptly? After all she’d done for him, wouldn’t that be rude? He certainly didn’t want to leave her with the impression that he was an ungrateful jerk who accepted her kindness and then took off.
So he couldn’t go yet. He should ease into it. He liked that reasoning so much better. He could shift now and . . . see what developed. Maybe he could show his gratitude in a way that would make them both happy.
But first he had to shift. After the way she’d reacted to it out on the trail, he didn’t want to risk having her wake up in the middle of the action. Leaving the room wasn’t a good option, either. The less he moved his shoulder before he shifted, the less likely he’d make it bleed.
He needed to wake her up. So maybe he would give her cheek a little lick, after all. By stretching his neck, he could just reach her with his tongue.
She woke up with a gasp. “Jake! You scared me. Are you okay? You look better.”
I’m lots better. You cured my hangover.
“I’m glad.” She pushed herself up on one elbow. “I should check your shoulder.”
It’ll be fine. I’m ready to shift, but I . . . I wanted to warn you before I did.
She looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”
You can leave the room if you want.
“I want to stay right here.” Her gaze didn’t waver from his.
You’re sure?
“Yes.”
Then here goes. Lying back on the quilt, he closed his eyes and willed his shift. It would take longer than usual because he was weakened by the bullet wound, but once he’d accomplished it, he’d regain most of that strength.
For the second time in his life, he was shifting in front of a human. He’d never expected to do it once. This morning he’d been desperate to shock her, and she’d admitted to being freaked-out.
She was obviously still unnerved by the process. He could feel her nervous energy, and it distracted him. But he had to admire her courage. She could have left the room and she’d chosen not to.
Taking a deep breath, he blocked his awareness of her as best he could and concentrated on his transformation. He’d shifted hundreds of times, maybe even thousands, and he was good at it. Adverse conditions no longer affected him. He could shift anywhere, anytime.
Except now. Opening his eyes, he gazed at her.
“Jake? Is something wrong?”
I can’t do it.
“You can’t shift? You mean your shifter is broken?”
Not permanently, I hope. I think . . . it’s you.
“Me? But you did it in front of me this morning.”
I was in a different mood then. I was trying to prove something. Now I’m not.
Her silver eyes grew troubled. “Then I guess you want me to leave the room, huh?”
She sounded so disappointed that he didn’t have the heart to send her away. It would be like denying her fireworks on the Fourth of July. No, please stay.
“But I’m making you choke. You’re having shiftus interruptus.”
You make it sound like erectile dysfunction.
“It sort of is, right?”
I beg your pardon. I don’t have those problems.
“Then why aren’t you shifting?”
He thought about that. Maybe, although it was counterintuitive, he needed her to be even closer to him so that he didn’t think of her as other. He decided to give that a whirl.
I want you to touch me while I shift.
“Touch you? Won’t that make it worse?”
Maybe not. Put your hand on me. Let’s see what happens.
She scooted closer and rested her hand on his paw. “How’s that?”
Good. If it works, I’ll end up holding yo
ur hand. Now help me concentrate.
“Want me to close my eyes, too?”
That would miss the point of you being able to watch, wouldn’t it?
“Oh, yeah. Guess so.”
Okay, here we go again. He closed his eyes. Instead of trying to block Rachel, he focused on the connection—her hand resting on his paw. He drew on that connection and felt a surge of energy rush through his body.
She gasped but didn’t move her hand. Her touch was light, allowing the shift to happen under her fingertips, but he felt something resembling an electrical charge pulsing at that point of contact. Muscle and bone responded with a speed and grace he’d never felt before. His heart ached with the beauty of it and the joy of sharing this moment with her.
And then it was over. Dazed and breathing hard, he lay on the quilt. Her fingers rested on the back of his hand instead of the back of his paw. Without opening his eyes, he turned his hand over and laced his fingers through hers.
She squeezed his hand.
He started to say something and realized emotion clogged his throat, preventing him from talking. The past two minutes had been the most emotionally moving of his entire life.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly.
He nodded, still struggling with the enormity of his feelings. He might have seriously miscalculated. He’d meant to solve a simple problem of shifting blockage. But he’d created an even bigger problem.
Less than twenty minutes ago he’d been calculating how soon he could leave her. But during this shift, he’d forged a bond so strong he couldn’t imagine ever doing that. And he would have to.
“Jake, you’re worrying me. Is your shoulder bothering you? It looks really good from here, but if you have a lot of pain, then—”
He opened his eyes and gazed at her. “I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “But that was the most intense shift I’ve ever had.”
“You were glowing pretty bright. There was heat, too.”
Still holding her hand, he rolled to his side to face her. “I’ll bet.”
“Why do you think it was so intense?”
“You were touching me. Your energy shot through my system and I felt supercharged.” He held up their clasped hands. “I can still feel the tingle.”
Werewolf in Alaska: A Wild About You Novel Page 20