"Kira!"
Her eyes widened at the rough, familiar voice, but it was too late to take back the attack. The man landed on his back beneath her, and her knee drove into the ground just beneath his groin with only a calculated last-minute inch to spare.
"Sawyer!" she exclaimed. Past the tangled blond hair tumbling into her frantic eyes, she saw the handsome, grizzled face of her English professor blinking up at her. Her surprise assault had knocked his glasses askew, and they hung off his nose and one ear at an almost ninety degree angle.
To her surprise, his hands came up to seize her shoulders, but it wasn't to push her off him; it was to hold her there, as if he feared the young woman sitting astride him was only a vision.
"Jesus, Kira, what happened to you?"
His hands trailed down her arms, skimming over scratches and bruises and catching on the tatters of her clothes. Kira tried to examine herself more carefully, but it was no use without her phone or a mirror. She assumed by the tone of Donovan's voice that she looked even worse than she felt.
"I don't know… I'm not sure," she stuttered. "I don't really remember what happened, so I think I must have changed, at least partially—but then, why do I still have my clothes on?" She started shaking uncontrollably as tears welled in her eyes. "What's happening to me? For a moment, I thought you were someone else—someone who wanted to hurt me—"
"Shannon came and found me in my classroom." Donovan pushed himself up slowly from the ground, and Kira fell back on her haunches to give him more room. He followed her up and caught the back of her neck, as if he was afraid any break in contact between them would cause her to disappear again without warning. "She showed me your dorm room."
"Is it bad?" Kira's eyes tracked his, and what she saw wasn't good. "Oh God, did she call the police?" Thoughts of campus security combing her room for evidence, and finding that the damage could have only been caused by a large animal—
"Not yet. She came to me first." Donovan's fingers tightened possessively at the nape of her neck. "I told her to call them in an hour if she didn't hear from either of us. I think it would be best if you called her on your cell to let her know yourself that you're all right. Do you have your phone with you?"
"Not with me." Kira hunted through every pocket, and found nothing—no cell phone, no wallet, and no ID. "Sawyer, this is weird… I could have sworn I had it on me. I know I at least had my wallet on me. I know for a fact." She could feel the dread she had experienced earlier at her situation slowly starting to creep back in, despite the comfort of her professor's presence. "You didn't see it in my room, did you? On my desk? Because if it isn't there, then it means someone must have taken it—"
"No," he said quietly. "I didn't see it. And believe me, I memorized every detail."
They were both quiet for a long moment.
"I think I know why you don't remember what happened to you," Donovan began slowly. "You shifted, Kira, it's true. At least a little. The wolf knew you were in danger, and she took over for you—think of it like swapping out drivers when the person usually behind the wheel is too afraid or too exhausted to continue. I think it's likely that you blacked-out, and let instinct take over."
"You said it happened because I was in danger." Kira's voice quavered. "I remember that there was someone in the hallway. Someone trying to get in."
"Whoever it was did get in," Donovan said. "He got in. I smelled another werewolf in that room with you, Kira."
It made sense. It aligned with everything she had already been subconsciously beginning to suspect, and yet the conclusion seemed impossible. Wouldn't have Donovan known if there was another wolf shifter on campus? Wouldn't she have known? But then, she hadn't realized before that Donovan was a werewolf—not until he had told her himself. And he had only suspected her because she was displaying symptoms left and right.
"The two of you must have," Donovan continued. "Either you ran, or he dragged you out here and took off the second you started to regain awareness."
"But what for what purpose?" Kira demanded hysterically. "To mug me? I'm a student—I don't own anything valuable! Why would he go to all that effort just to take my stuff?"
"He might have a fixation with you." Donovan's eyes flashed like silver coins. "You're in heat, Kira. It's possible he just wanted to get you alone to see how things would play out between the two of you."
"Oh God." Kira dropped her head into her hands. "I think I'm going to be sick."
She felt the pressure of Donovan's hand once more on the back of her neck; gentle, coaxing. After a few moments, she raised her head, and allowed herself to be drawn out of her silent anguish into a warm and loving kiss. Donovan pressed his lips firmly against hers, and Kira slotted her own mouth against his. Every kiss they exchanged now felt perfect and right, even if they did still qualify as stolen. A wave of calm washed over her, and for the first time since she had woken delirious in the clearing, she felt safe and secure. Donovan would never let anything happen to her—and she would never let anything happen to Sawyer Donovan.
God help the mysterious male wolf who tried to get between them.
Donovan pulled away first. The hand that rested on the back of her neck slid down her shoulder to grip her arm and help her stand. Though her thoughts were steely, Kira felt grateful for the support—she couldn't be sure that her body had fully caught up with the day's staggering revelation. As soon as she was upright, she slipped her hand into his.
"We should go back to my apartment," he murmured. "I've already cancelled my remaining classes for today. I don't think it's wise for you to go back to your room until we figure out who did this to you."
Kira nodded. At the very least Shannon would be safer without her there. If it really was a wolf that had attacked her, then surely he could smell when she wasn't around? All the same, Kira didn't think it was worth the risk. She would ask Shannon to stay with a friend, or stay with the boyfriend she didn't think Kira knew about. She would just have to think of an excuse to feed her that had nothing to do with the truth.
Donovan pulled his jacket off, and Kira accepted it gratefully. It was a short walk back to his place from Gosling Park, but her own shirt was torn to ribbons. She pulled the coat on and zipped it securely closed as Donovan guided her out of the clearing, darting infrequent looks over his shoulder. She didn't blame him for being paranoid. Even though she couldn't sense another presence there with them in the woods, she still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
"We're going to figure this out, Kira," he promised. "If we have to, we'll confront the wolf that did this to you. We'll make sure he knows where the line is drawn, and that you aren't available to be messed with."
"What if he doesn't listen?" Kira asked quietly. "It wasn't a wolf that kicked my door in, Sawyer. This man knew exactly what he was doing."
"And where to find you," Donovan added. A chill ran down Kira's spine, and her teacher looked like he regretted his words in the next instant, but he hadn't said anything she didn't already know. He pulled her in against his side as they made their way slowly out of the woods.
"Sawyer," Kira said quietly. "I think we need to start exploring the possibility that you aren't the wolf that bit me."
CHAPTER 16
A call to Shannon, and any crisis with the campus police was averted… for now. They only barely managed it under the one-hour deadline that Donovan had himself installed.
"No, Shannon, there's really no crazy weird boyfriend I need to tell you about," Kira said as she shot a look across the kitchen to Donovan. He pretended not to notice; he pushed his sleeves up and busied himself over the stovetop. "I haven't even been back to the room. Some of the boys on our floor must have been trying to prank us—remember that shit they tried to pull our first week? But you're right, it's not funny. Definitely tell the resident advisors. I'm sure they'll get someone to clean it up. Maybe you should stay somewhere else until they do." Kira was silent for a long a moment, and Donovan could hear Shannon
speaking on the other line, as clearly as if she was in the room with them.
"Okay. But where are you staying? And whose phone are you calling me from, anyway?"
"I'll catch up with you in a few days," Kira promised. "All right? Okay, bye girl. I feel bad for throwing them under the bus like that," she mentioned to Donovan as she hung up the phone. "The guys in our dorm, I mean. They didn't do anything wrong."
"No one is going to confess to a crime they didn't commit," he reasoned. "All of your resident advisors will be on high alert for the next few weeks, and then the incident will be forgotten. It's a good thing. It means that a stranger coming in or out of your dormitory would draw a lot of unwanted attention. I don't think whoever attacked you there is likely to risk it again."
Kira settled into the kitchen stool and wrapped her long legs around the outside supports. She was wearing his clothes once more, and Donovan couldn't help but notice the way his favorite flannel shirt hung loose and slightly open down Kira's front. It hadn't been his favorite shirt until he saw her in it.
He ferried a bowl of beef stroganoff over to her and leaned on the counter. He knew she was hungry; still, she didn't immediately touch what was offered. "Kira," he began in a low voice. "What you said back there in the woods… I don't want you to get your hopes up. Even if there is another werewolf on campus, it doesn't change the fact that I blacked-out during the full moon when you were bitten."
"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "This changes everything! I don't believe it was you. Not for one second. I know you're just trying to protect my feelings… both our feelings," she amended. "But how can you still believe it was you that bit me? I know you would never hurt anyone, professor."
His temper got the better of him then, and Donovan slammed his fist down on the counter, making the bowl in front of her jump and rattle. The girl herself didn't so much as flinch; her eyes flashed, but it wasn't the wolf he saw. It was determination to win their argument.
"Will you listen to me?" he growled. "Of course I'm capable of hurting someone! In fact, I feel extremely capable of hurting the man who did this to you! If the werewolf who attacked you is bold enough to come to your dorm room in broad daylight…" He trailed off, and retracted his fist from the countertop. He was shaking.
"He could attack others," Kira surmised. "I know, professor. I've been thinking the same thing. It's not something anyone else besides us is equipped to deal with. We have to prepare for a worst-case scenario, right? We have to be ready to confront him… and decide what to do with him next if he refuses to stop."
"We don't have to decide anything," Donovan stressed. "This is something I need to do alone. I'm your teacher. I'm older than you, and I've been cursed longer. You've been through enough already because of me. I don't want to see you harmed any further."
"As your student," she replied waspishly, "and as the woman who loves you and would do anything to keep you safe, I don't agree."
And suddenly, there was an L-word between them that wasn't 'lycanthropy'.
Donovan gazed at her for a long moment, his gray eyes storming with emotion. It had been harder and harder to keep the word locked behind his own lips recently. Why didn't he just give into it now? Kira, ever the braver half of their strange partnership, had already said it. It was out there, only waiting now for an identical confession from him to fulfill its promise.
There was so much wrong with the foundations of their relationship. Even now, Donovan thought that if he could woo Kira Bentley all over again, her would—he would wait until the semester was over to ask her out to dinner; he would kiss her goodnight on the cheek and leave it at that; he would meet her parents and plead his case for why he, an older man, wished to be with her and only her. Maybe there was still time for all of those traditional, boring motions. He would go through them gladly with her.
Kira slipped down off the stool and came around the side of the counter. Donovan didn't draw back from the advance. He watched as she placed herself between him and the all-too-temptingly hard surface of the kitchen bar. It would be so easy to unravel that stubborn line of her otherwise plump lips by capturing them with his own and thrusting her body back against the counter. It would be easier than saying what he knew he had to say.
"I told you before," he murmured as she wound her arms around his neck. "I would much rather wait until you weren't in heat to try and sort things out between us."
"Maybe I'll be in heat forever," Kira said. Donovan groaned in horror at the thought and tightened his grip on her waist. Wait, when had he allowed his hands to grab hold of her? "Maybe one of us will get hurt. Maybe tomorrow you'll decide you're no good for me, pack up, and skip town."
"That last one's a very real possibility," Donovan admitted as she drew him down to her. "If you really love someone, you'd do anything to keep them out of danger, wouldn't you?"
Kira arched an eyebrow. "Is that your confession?" She sounded disappointed.
"I love you, Bentley," he said very clearly. "Don't think that knowledge will help you pass my final."
His words caused Kira's face to take on a glow he had never seen before. Her skin, normally as pale as the face of the moon, didn't blush so much as seem to glow suddenly and radiantly. She fought to keep her mouth turned down, which resulted in her expression becoming hilariously lopsided from the effort, and she lost the battle, anyway. Soon she was beaming up at him, and the scholastic veneer that Donovan had used to get his own words out fell away. He gazed warmly at the woman in his arms as his thumb came up to sweep the curve of her cheekbone. He leaned into her the same moment she tilted her face up, and he once more gave himself over to kissing his student senseless in the kitchen of his home.
CHAPTER 17
Kira was starving, but it was more than one hunger of hers that she thought she needed sated.
After dinner she sprawled on Donovan's couch with a book propped open in front of her face. If she spent as much time reading recently as she actually did pretending to read, she might stand a chance of actually advancing her goals of becoming an English teacher.
Despite confessing their feelings for one another, this time, Donovan didn't join her on the couch. He sat in the armchair beside his flat screen TV, which was currently broadcasting a virtual fireplace he had found on Netflix. Despite the gravity of their situation, Kira couldn't help but think the effect was hilarious—it was part of the reason she was so distracted from her reading. The other, more pressing reason for her distraction had all to do with the man whose apartment she was staying over at for the second time in what felt like just as many days.
The rims of Professor Donovan's glasses glinted in the faux firelight as he pored over a campus map he had spread out across his thighs. His leg jogged occasionally as he scanned each pleated square for some clue as to how two male wolves could have existed in the same territory for so long with at least one remaining unaware of the other. His dark auburn hair was parted down the side, and he kept reaching up to idly sweep it back out of his line of vision. An open beer sat beside him on the mantle; Kira had declined one of her own.
She ached all over, and it wasn't just from the day's harrowing adventure. Every time she looked at Donovan, she was overcome by a yearning so intense that nothing outside of multiple cold showers stood a chance of taming the heat—and she wasn't about to increase his water bill just because she couldn't keep a handle on how she was feeling.
Think about it, Kira, she reasoned with herself angrily. It's just… 'that time of the month'. Something that, as a female werewolf, you're just going to have to learn to deal with.
But maybe there were better ways of dealing with it than doing absolutely nothing. They had confessed, they had kissed, but it wasn't enough for her. She yearned for Donovan's closeness, and this time, she wanted more than just a hot make-out session. She wanted him to make good on all of the promises his all-too-obviously virile body had made her in the relative privacy of his office only the day before.
"You haven't turned a page in the last half hour, Kira. Finish the chapter, at least," Donovan advised her without glancing up from his study of the map.
"What will you give me if I do?" was her automatic response. Kira winced at the childishness of the challenge, but quickly composed her expression when Donovan glanced up sharply. She couldn't help it—the urge to flirt was too strong. Especially if she thought it stood a change of leading to something else.
"Very likely a passing grade," was his offhand reply
She hated it when he switched gears on her. Sawyer Donovan was incredibly accomplished at going from mentor to adversary to lover and back again; he often ran the gamut of all three before Kira could even catch her breath to protest (or encourage) the actions of one. Their romance was still so new and unexplored. Couldn't he leave her with an opening for more than half a second at a time?
Kira grudgingly hunkered back down to finish the chapter. It didn't help stem the tide of her own sexual frustration observing the constant back and forth between Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester. She was definitely starting to carry her personal issues over with her into the realms of classic literature. Good. At this rate, maybe she really would have a shot at becoming a professor—most of the instructors she had encountered so far while pursuing a higher education tended to imbue their subjects with all sorts of private meaning.
When it was finally time for bed, Kira insisted on taking the couch this time. Donovan had forced her into his bed during their last sleepover, and not in a fun or even remotely satisfying away—she had occupied a cold, lonely mattress all night long, and her mind had raced every time she picked up on a sound or movement in the other room. If she had hoped her professor would join her beneath the covers, he never did—he remained chivalrously on the couch, and when they came together again the next morning in the kitchen, they both looked as if they hadn't slept a wink.
Bears of Burden: HUTCH Page 20