by Lynn Marie
Michael’s teeth ground together. Either someone was being incredibly reckless by letting their wolf out within town limits in full view of any humans in the area, or someone was following Evelyn. “Was it the same one every time?”
“I think so.”
“Describe the wolf.”
She eyed him incredulously. “Lupine.”
“Very funny.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Big. Dark… he was far. Why?”
“Just wondering. We all look different when we shift and I’d like to know who it was. We aren’t supposed to shift within the town limits.”
Her smile fell. “Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“Was he… did it seem like he was watching?”
“Um, I’m not sure. Not really, I guess. Usually whoever it is has been moving, like he was going somewhere.”
That calmed him, though not entirely. He wrapped an arm around her absent-mindedly and kissed the top of her head. He had to get to the bottom of this one. She shuffled in against him and laid her head on his chest. Her hair tickled him.
“I’m not sure if it was just one.”
“I’ll ask around. And I need you to tell me if it happens again.”
She nodded. “Okay. Sorry I got you all concerned… It didn’t seem like a big deal. I thought you’d think it was funny.”
“I’m glad you told me. I just worry.”
He could feel her smile. “I know.”
She fell asleep like that, her leg tossed over his and her hand over his heart. It made him feel strong, but in a way that was edged with fear. In her own way, she needed him, and knowing that gave him a boost like he wouldn’t have imagined. But while she was his, she wasn’t his kind and she was vulnerable. That scared the hell out of him. Having something meant having something to lose, and for the first time he understood implications of that.
The minutes ticked by and, as she breathed even and deeply, his eyes stayed wide open.
Fuck this. He was antsy and strung out in a way that only one thing would remedy. He moved out from underneath her, giving her the pillow to hug in his absence, and dressed quickly and silently. He picked the spare key out of her fish dish by the stairs and let himself out.
It was a cool, clear night—perfect for a run. Not bright, as the crescent was almost run out, but bright enough with his enhanced vision to see whatever he needed to. Veering towards the field a street back from Evelyn’s building, he looked around. No one was out at this hour, anyway.
He disrobed and changed. When his wolf was out, he breathed deeply. This was a different kind of freedom—the kind that came from the wind in his fur and running as fast as he possibly could. He ran until he lost his breath and the sweat didn’t wick away. He’d need a shower before getting back into bed.
As he shucked on the pants he’d stashed at the edge of the field, he caught a scent that wasn’t right. The night was too silent, he noticed suddenly. He knew something wasn’t right when he saw the smoke cloud rising above the buildings. He started to run and hadn’t cleared the outskirts of town when he saw the flames.
Her apartment was on fire.
Terror, unlike anything he’d ever known, punched him right in the gut. There was an instant where the fear burned through his skin and stomach like acid. His brain shut down and his heart beat so hard that it nearly burst from his chest.
A scream broke through the night air.
Evelyn.
“Fire!” he roared at the top of his lungs as he ran towards her building at a dead gallop. “Fire! Someone call the police!”
He couldn’t stop to deal with the fire department; he had to get her out. Panic was seizing him, blurring his vision. Oh God, what if she…
No. He didn’t have time for fear or hypotheticals. As he neared, he saw that the fire was coming from the first floor and had already made its way to the second. Flames spilled from the windows, licking the brick sides of the building. The heat was unreal, and pain cleared his vision. Or maybe it was the adrenaline kicking in. Unthinking, he grabbed the doorknob, only to let go with a roar of pain.
Burns mottled his hand, quickly becoming one giant, pulsating blister, but he shook off the injury. He’d heal. Covering his hand with his shirt and using the uninjured one, he turned the knob. Fire spilled into the stairwell from both sides, having already consumed the walls and now going to town on the stairs.
Fuck. He couldn’t go that way. Wolves were quick healers, but they could burn to death just like everyone else.
By now, a crowd had formed outside the burning building. Women in curlers and bathrobes carried buckets in both hands and men in pajama bottoms were working to move any potential fire-fuel from the area. At least two different people were on their phones, so hopefully that meant help was coming. He felt a brief swell of pride for his town—no idle gawkers here.
Another scream punctuated the air and terror choked him. He stepped back from the building, looking for an opening. There, at the window. He could see her. She was working to get it open, but flames were closing in from behind.
A quick glance around told him that the jump was about twenty feet high, but her store awning would break the fall. The stucco wall wasn’t climbable, but there was a tree a reasonable distance away. Fuck the humans living in the town finding out he was a wolf. He had to get her out of there. And they were around back, anyway, busy with the hose.
“Evelyn, get back!” he shouted. The look she gave him was so full of fear, he growled. “Get back! I’m coming!”
With a running start, he leapt onto a tree branch and used his momentum to carry him higher into the tree. He then launched himself into the air, right for her window. Right on the mark, he crashed through and landed in a roll, headfirst. It carried him right into a wall of fire, but he was up so quickly that it didn’t have time to catch his clothing or hair.
Her skin was covered in soot everywhere but on her face where the tears had streaked, and her eyes were wide with horror. “Michael!” she cried.
God, the heat was unbearable. It felt like his skin was melting. “Come on,” he urged, wrapping her in his arms. He never wanted to let go. But as they got to the window, he realized that wasn’t possible. “You go first,” he ordered.
She looked down at the awning. “We can go together,” her voice wavered.
“No, it’ll break if I jump too. Go, I’m right behind you. Go!” he shouted as he heard something fall in her bedroom. Probably the ceiling buckling.
With one last look he didn’t have the focus to decipher, she stepped through the broken window and dropped. She landed in the awning with a whimper of pain, but quickly rolled out of the way.
He heard sirens as he climbed through the broken window. Thank God. She probably had smoke inhalation.
When Michael hit the awning, it ripped right underneath him. It broke his fall, though he landed squarely on his back. Stars clouded his vision as the air was knocked from him.
“Michael!” he heard her scream. “Michael!”
He could feel her hands on his chest as he danced with consciousness. He nearly passed out—it would have been so easy to let the darkness take over and just relax—but he had to make sure she was okay.
It felt like an eternity before he could fill his lungs with sweet air. His eyes cracked open and he zeroed in right on her face. “You okay?” he rasped.
More tears cleared a path down her sooty cheeks. “Yes,” she sobbed. She hovered for a second, looking uncertain, like she wanted to hug him but didn’t want to hurt him. She settled for grabbing his hand and hugging it to her chest. “Oh, Michael…”
It seemed to be all she could manage. She was holding it together, but only barely. He forced himself up, wincing—definitely a cracked rib—and opened his arms. “Come here, Evelyn.”
She did, gingerly laying her head on his chest and sobbing violently. “I was so scared… you… you saved me.” Her voice broke in between words.
“Shh,” he comfort
ed.
In the midst of the two of them drawing strength from each other, fire trucks pulled in. Red and blue lights shone alternately on every semi-reflective surface and a dozen more feet pounded the earth around them as people filed out of fire trucks and ambulances and police cars to help. Vaguely, he was aware of the hoses coming out and the cops setting up a barrier and the paramedics circling the two of them, but he couldn’t break his hold on her. The sheer adrenaline of the situation had brought his wolf so close to the surface that he was afraid he’d snap. Evelyn’s frantic heartbeat and broken breathing was the only way he knew she was ok, and that was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Sir,” one of the paramedics said.
Michael all but growled at him, tightening his hold on Evelyn.
“I have to treat you both,” the guy said reasonably. “You’ve got some nasty burns and I need to check her breathing.”
The wolf backed down as his conscious mind recognized that the danger now was intangible. “Help her,” he demanded. “I’m fine, but the smoke…”
“Sir, your hand has a third degree—”
“Help. Her,” he shot back through clenched teeth.
The paramedic, seeming to realize that he wasn’t going to get anywhere, nodded. “All right. Over here, please. She needs an oxygen mask.”
Michael stood, ignoring the screaming protest of his ribs, and helped her up. When she was standing, she turned into him and gripped his shirt, shaking, and Michael felt a surge of helplessness and anger. His woman was scared to her core and he hadn’t been there to protect her.
“This way, ma’am,” the pushy, helpful paramedic said.
Yeah, there was no way he was letting her out of his sight. He walked her over to the ambulance and sat her down firmly in his lap. The paramedic worked around him, placing the mask over her head and wrapping them both in a space blanket when he refused to move the arms cradling her. She let her head fall back against him.
“I need to make sure you didn’t get smoke inhalation or monoxide poisoning. I need you to answer some questions,” the paramedic said slowly.
Michael’s eyes cut to her face. She nodded as her erratic exhalations fogged the walls of the mask.
“Do you have shortness of breath? A headache?”
After each question, she shook her head and a weight was lifted off Michael.
“Good. Hoarseness?”
“My throat hurts a bit.”
He nodded. “Do you feel confused, like not clear-headed? Faint?”
She shook her head.
“Good. I need to listen to your breathing and check your eyes and nose. Okay?”
She nodded.
He did those things with her stiff cooperation, performing them with a quiet efficiency that spoke to years of practice. “Good, very good. What’s your name, Ma’am?”
“Evelyn,” Michael cut in. He didn’t want her to have to talk if her throat was sore.
“All right, well, Evelyn, it looks like you were very lucky. You don’t seem to have any smoke inhalation symptoms. I’d like it if you were monitored for a little bit, though, to make sure you don’t develop a cough or hoarseness or if your throat starts to hurt worse. If that happens, seek medical attention immediately.”
She nodded and looked at Michael. He stroked her hair.
“All right, Sir,” the paramedic went on, training his eyes on Michael, “let’s see some of those burns…” he trailed off as he reached for Michael’s palm.
The skin, which had been purple and blistered, had healed to a bright red. It still throbbed, but it wasn’t agony like before. The paramedic’s eyes widened and he glanced up at Michael’s face. “Uh… these will be okay. Just some cool water, maybe. Do you have any burns, Evelyn?”
“On my leg,” she said.
The paramedic removed the space blanket to check her leg and grabbed some bandages. “I’m sorry about what happened, but you two were very lucky.” He made quick work of bandaging her leg, then he disappeared around the front of his van.
Evelyn shifted in his arms and looked up at him. Tears shone in the corner of her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. She moved to hug him, but the face-mask and tubing got in the way. Hands shaking, she lifted the mask off and reached up to stretch her arms around him. “Thank you for saving me.”
“I was… so scared,” he said into her hair.
“I… I just woke up and the fire was everywhere.” Her voice broke on a sob and his gut wrenched, knowing she was remembering how that terror had felt. “I couldn’t get to the door. I was terrified. I didn’t have any right to, but I hoped you’d come.” She sniffled daintily, like she was trying to hide it. Her breaths became uneven again as she held back the tears.
“Let it out,” he whispered, running his palm down the length of her back.
Her sniffles became sobs and she turned her head into his shirt to muffle herself. He felt her tears soak through as he continued to stroke her hair and back in what he hoped was a comforting way. He hated that she was so scared, hated that he wasn’t sure how to make it go away.
“No matter what, I’ll always be here,” he said fiercely.
“I don’t deserve it,” she babbled through her tears. She leaned back. “You almost died. And I… I can’t bear to see you hurt like that again. Is your back okay? Your ribs?”
“I’ll be all right. You saw my hand heal. By tomorrow morning, I’ll be as good as new. But you,” he said sharply, sliding the mask back over her hair now that she seemed to be done crying, “need to put this back on.”
The corners of her mouth lifted briefly. When she spoke, the plastic muffled her voice. “I wish I healed fast. Oh, God, Michael… that was everything I had. I can’t believe I just lost it… stuff is replaceable, but… it’s my own stupid fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“I must have left an oven on or something. I can’t believe I was so stupid.” She shook her head.
“It happens, Evelyn,” he said, lifting her chin. “That’s what insurance is for. And in the meantime, you need to sleep. Let me take you home.”
She swallowed. “All right, but just for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll call my sister. I don’t want to impose.”
He did laugh this time. “Evelyn,” he said, lifting a brow at her.
“Okay.” She blushed a little and looked away, interpreting his tone for the command it was. “Can we go? I’m really, really… tired.”
“Of course. Let me go talk with the paramedic and see if it’s okay.”
By the time they got to Michael’s place, Evelyn was so tired she was dead on her feet. Michael was half-carrying her with an arm around her waist, as she’d refused another bridal-style event.
He led her through his house, back to his bedroom and sat her on the bed. He couldn’t help but be worried at her vacant expression as she watched him sink to his knees in front of her and remove her shoes.
“Michael,” she murmured.
“Hmm?” he responded, not looking up as he removed her socks.
She cupped his face in both her hands. “God, you… What you did for me… there aren’t words. You… you literally charged into the line of fire and carried me from a burning building. Michael, I…” she paused. “Thank you.”
He nodded, accepting her fiftieth expression of gratitude. He peeled off her pants and then did away with her shirt. Apart from a quick kiss dropped on her shoulder, he undressed but didn’t touch. There was nothing sexual about this stripping—he was taking care of her.
She wrapped her arms around herself as he stood and went over to his drawers. He returned with a shirt for her. This time, she took it from him and put it on herself, smiling somewhat sheepishly. “I feel like a child, letting you undress me.”
He shook it off. “Do you want anything? Some tea or water? A blanket? A pillow?”
“It was so hot that I’m freezing now. I need your warmth.”
He nodded. “At your service.”
&nbs
p; As they settled into bed, she shivered, burrowing back into his arms. He stroked her hair gently, urging her to sleep. She needed it, even if he wouldn’t be able to tonight. Not with the guilt coiling around his gut, persistent and sour. He’d left and this had happened. If he’d only been there—
“Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“This isn’t your fault, you know. Please don’t think…” she trailed off, paused and cleared her throat. “If you’d been there, you might have burned with me. The smoke might have gotten us, or something else. Please don’t think about the what-ifs. You saved me. End of story.”
“What are you, some kind of mind-reader?”
“No, I just… I know you. You’re incredibly sweet, but please don’t try to take responsibility for accidents or things you can’t change, Michael. There’s nothing good down that path.”
With that reassurance, he pulled her closer. “You’re right. You’re here and I’m here and we’re both safe right now. You’re safe, Evelyn. Sleep.” He fell into his own light, fitful sleep.
Chapter 13
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flames. She felt the searing agony of the heat, felt the thick air going into her lungs and settling there, making her eyes water and airway prickle.
Her eyes popped open. Arms crossed over her chest, Evelyn stared at the building that had been her home for the last four or five months. Fire had crept up the sides, leaving a wake of blackened, crumbling walls and ruin. The windows and roof were gone and the back of the building had collapsed inwards. She could see through what had been the display window into a giant pile of rubble that had come crashing down from the upstairs apartment, destroying the kitchen and store. There was a broken piece of ceramic by her foot that she recognized as her cupcake display plate from the blue flower design in the corner. She flipped it over with the edge of her shoe so she didn’t have to look at it.
It hadn’t quite felt like home; she had still felt like she was living in a hotel. And she’d never been the type of person who got overly attached to things. All the important stuff—documents, her mother’s jewelry, old family pictures—was in that safety deposit box, which she was going to have words with Dana about. Clearly, Dana was more clairvoyant than she knew.