by Zoe Chant
“Just me,” Gage reassured quickly. “It’s just me.” He leaned closer to the window, trying to see inside and assess her injuries. “How are you feeling? Any bleeding? Pain?”
Alison leaned back in her seat, hand to her chest, breathing hard and staring out at him as she recovered herself. “No, I’m just great. I’m having a heart attack, here.”
Gage winced, shifting slightly to scan her with his bear’s night vision. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m used to tracking and I forget how quietly shifters move.” He gestured at the crumpled front end of the car. “Are your legs trapped?”
Alison blew out a breath. “I think my right foot is. I can’t really feel much, but I was hitting the brakes pretty hard. Anyway, the door is jammed. He was trying to get in.” She turned to scan the clearing, anxiety written across her pale face. “Can you hear him?”
Gage took in the deep scratches and punctures near the door handle. He blocked out Alison’s heartbeat for a moment, searching for Latimer’s. “He’s—” Behind me, Gage realized, pivoting just as Latimer leaped over the car, eyes bright and rolling with madness.
“Mine!” Latimer’s bark ripped through the quiet. “My mate!” He charged, teeth flashing in a menacing snarl.
Gage felt his body shift, muscles bulking and twisting, hands sharpening into claws, eyes glowing and mouth morphing into a strong muzzle. He roared, hunkering down to take Latimer’s weight as the wolf barreled into him, snapping and growling. Gage moved with the shifter’s momentum, rolling them across the clearing and landing on top of Latimer. Gage struck him twice with a wide, strong paw, his bear growling furiously. His claws left deep streaks of red oozing from the wolf’s coat. Latimer whimpered, rolling away, and showed his belly. He panted, eyes lowered, cowed.
Gage was careful, his bear wary. Latimer was feigning surrender. No shifter in this kind of mental state would give up so easily. He sidled nearer, watchful, planning to herd Latimer toward the tree line. His bear was attuned to the scent of Alison’s fear, stuck in her car, anxiously relaying their information to a 911 operator. He needed to get the wolf away from her.
Latimer struck just as his attention was divided, as if he could sense the connection between Gage and Alison and wanted to rip it apart. The wolf snarled and jack-knifed forward. His teeth sank into the muscle of Gage’s hind leg, unprotected as he stood upright. Pain shrieked through his system and he felt, rather than heard, Alison gasp and cry out.
“No! Gage!” Her voice throbbed with visceral terror. Somehow, even in panic, it was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.
A fierce roar rose unbidden within his throat, growing deep and harsh with his bear’s fury. This omega dares to terrorize our mate! He will pay.
Latimer growled back with purpose, matching his threat. His red eyes dilated and he crouched as if to spring. Gage’s body vibrated with rage. He lunged his huge body at the wolf, shoving him into a bramble patch and trapping the smaller shifter under his massive weight. Latimer wriggled desperately, whining and yelping as the brambles pricked his underside. Gage pressed him harder, forcing the air out of his lungs. The wolf gasped and panted, scrabbling and scratching at the ground without purchase. Gage held him fast, his bear’s jaw locked tight around the wolf’s scruff, piercing the skin and burying his teeth into bloody flesh.
With a surge of strength, Gage reared, forcing Latimer up into the air and shaking him rough and hard like a catch of fish. The wolf moaned, body tossed sharply back and forth in Gage’s grip. With a roar and a heave, Gage threw him across the clearing, straight into the side of his truck. There was a sick crunch when he hit, and a thump as he fell to the ground.
Gage prowled toward him, teeth bared. That’s what you get for messing with our mate, his bear snarled in satisfaction. Latimer’s legs twitched and he growled. He seemed stunned and half-aware but still in thrall of his urge to fight. Gage knew he would have to be knocked out, or else the wolf would keep attacking until he managed to get himself killed.
“Wait!”
Gage huffed in surprise and turned to see Alison struggling out the open window of her car. He chuffed at her, warning her to stay where she was safe. She shook her head and edged toward Gage, limping slightly but wielding a steering wheel club like a baseball bat. “I’m okay. I just need to see him.” Her tone was tired but determined. “I need to see who did this.”
Gage reared, ready to attack if the wolf tried anything. His mate was brave— maybe braver than he was comfortable with, but his bear’s heart burst with pride and admiration.
As Alison approached, Latimer squinted up at her, leering and panting. “Mine,” he slurred.
“Not yours,” Alison promised, voice just barely shaking. She shifted her grip on the club defensively.
Latimer’s paws twitched and then with an inhuman burst of energy and a wild roar he heaved himself at her. Alison gasped and swung, the club connecting hard with the wolf’s shoulder. Latimer yelped, twisted, and landed badly, his legs collapsing underneath him. He howled out in pain but amazingly, he still pressed on, slithering on his belly toward Alison. His eyes were fixed on her, glazed with anger and betrayal.
With a low growl, Gage grabbed his scruff and yanked him back, pressing him roughly into the ground just as sirens split the air. Thank God, he thought, tightening his grip as Alison dropped her club and limped toward the road to flag down the police.
Chapter Eleven
It all felt like a blur. Alison sat, dazed, legs dangling off the back of a parked ambulance, warm blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. An EMT with a brown ponytail knelt below her, assessing the state of her ankle in the bright of the flashing lights. She pressed it gently this way and that until Alison winced.
“There, huh? Yeah, that’ll start swelling up pretty soon, but it’s just a sprain. I’ll wrap it up, and you make sure to ice it and keep weight off it for a week. Now, let’s see about disinfecting these scrapes.”
Alison nodded, although the quiet instructions went in one ear and out the other. She shivered in the chill night air as the EMT rattled on calmingly.
“You’re lucky, but you’ll probably wake up tomorrow with some whiplash. If the pain is too bad, you can come into the ER for medication.”
Nearby, she could hear the squawk and fuzz of police scanners. Two large tow trucks idled with a bass buzz, waiting to drag the cars away. The clearing was lit up like a circus, red and blue and yellow lights in the dark. The whole scene felt far away and strange, like it belonged to someone else’s life. She breathed in, trying to steady herself, and listened for Gage’s voice. She needed to hear its comforting, low hum right now. He hadn’t gone far, she was sure. He hadn’t wanted to leave her side at all, not even after the police had taken Latimer into custody, locked him in the back of a car and taken him away with wailing sirens. But one of the officers had asked Gage to walk them through the events, and so, with a frowning brow, he’d left her in the hands of the EMT.
“Can your boyfriend stay with you tonight? You’ll need someone to wake you up every hour in case of a concussion.”
“He’s not— I didn’t hit my head very hard,” Alison denied. She hadn’t, but it did ache dully.
“I can stay if you want,” Gage’s tired, worried voice offered as he rounded the corner of the ambulance. “Or I could call your friend from the station.”
“It’s okay. I’ll figure it out,” Alison replied, latching onto his warm dark eyes.
“Whoa, let me see that leg,” the EMT commanded as she noticed Gage. Blood was soaking through his jeans, a deep maroon where it had dried.
“It’s fine, already healing,” he dismissed. “I’m a shifter.”
“Hmm.” The EMT narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, make sure to wash and disinfect as soon as you get home.”
Alison could tell Gage was about to argue, so she put in, “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”
Gage’s gaze gentled on her face, scanning h
er expression hopefully. “Can I drive you home?”
The EMT coughed, ducking her head to hide a smile, and levered herself to her feet. “You should be good to go. Just stay alert and come straight to the ER if anything gets worse.”
Alison flushed and nodded in thanks. “Yes,” she told Gage. “Let’s go, please.”
***
The apartment was full of dark, threatening shapes. Something was hiding around the corner, ready to catch her. She stopped cold in the front hall, shaking uncontrollably.
“Hey,” Gage coaxed quietly, pausing behind her. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” He leaned forward, warm against her back, and reached over her shoulder to flip the light switches, one by one. Pools of golden warmth revealed her living room furniture, familiar and worn. Under the couch, an irritable mew protested the sudden brightness.
Alison let out her breath slowly, heart pounding. She clutched at Gage’s hand, which had somehow appeared, firm and strong, squeezing around her own.
“I think you’re still in shock,” Gage murmured. “It’s a normal response. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah,” she managed to whisper.
“He’s gone,” Gage reassured. “He’ll never bother you again. I promise.”
Alison laughed, sounding slightly hysterical to her own ears. “I hit him with a steering wheel club!”
“You did exactly what you needed to do.”
“Oh man,” she giggled, exhausted. “I can’t believe I did that.”
Gage bundled her gently in his strong arms and urged her forward to the couch. She fell into it gratefully, and like a flash, Panda was in her lap, a blur of purring black fur that nuzzled and wound around her. She sighed, stroking her trembling fingers through the silky coat.
“Can I get you something?” Gage hovered, watching her with deep, concerned eyes. “Water? Tea? Did you have dinner? I can—”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Alison smiled awkwardly. Seeing him worried about her like this, his intense desire to take care of her was so clear. Suddenly all she could think about was the heat of his gaze and his body as he’d called her mate, the inexplicably good shiver that had shaken her body, naked in his arms. She looked away from him, embarrassed, rubbing Panda’s head with intense concentration.
Gage shifted and his movement was somehow sad, heavy. “Okay,” he said, voice gravelly. “Good, then. Is there anyone you want me to call to stay with you tonight?” His voice tripped over the words, pained.
“No, I—” Alison didn’t know how to finish. She didn’t want to be alone, she couldn’t stand to be alone right now. But letting Gage stay... What did that mean? Did it mean that she trusted him, like Jess had said? Did it mean she wanted to be his mate? What would Gage make of it? “If you stay,” she began slowly, almost without realizing she was speaking out loud.
“I would sleep on the couch,” Gage put in swiftly, tone rising in hope. “I could run you a hot shower and make sure to check on you every hour, and if you need anything I could get it for you.”
The image he conjured appealed to her: Gage, caring and strong, taking care of whatever she needed. Just this one last time. I don’t need to decide right now about the rest of my life, she told herself fuzzily. But I do need him tonight.
As promised, Gage ran her a shower, and Alison was relieved to find that warm water helped ease the dull ache in her head. She slowly scrubbed conditioner through her tangles. Exhaustion was still eating into her strength, but in the steamy shower, her muscles finally allowed themselves to uncoil and begin to relax.
Gage had moved two stools into the bathroom and helped her prop her wrapped ankle outside the shower curtain. He had turned on and tested the water temperature, brought her warm towels from the dryer, and offered to massage her head afterward if it still hurt. She wasn’t sure whether she should take him up on that, but the thought was comforting. She imagined his hands would feel gentle but firm, like the times he had caressed her skin. His palms had rubbed circles on her nipples until they tightened, carefully spread her thighs and pressed his thumbs calmingly into her muscles, held her head still and let her body pull against his grip. It had all felt intensely good, slight pain mixed with overwhelming pleasure. She squirmed against her seat, warm and wet with the memories.
What am I doing? She asked herself. Was she crazy to want to give this relationship a chance? Was Jess right about trusting instincts? Because almost all her instincts wanted Gage to stay, to fall asleep wrapped tight around her, to touch her like she belonged to him, heart and soul. But the other instinct— that one wanted to run, to never give anyone the power to hurt her ever again.
Alison sighed. Her arm was starting to ache from holding the detachable showerhead, so she rested her elbow on her knee and lowered her head to rinse out the conditioner. Then, leaning her back against the cool tile, she closed her eyes and let the spray hit her in the face and stream down her body. The water pressure felt good against her skin, like pinpricks of pleasure, and slowly she let her aim migrate lower, lower, until she shivered at the intimate touch of it against her clit.
She thought of Gage, just outside the door, comfortable in her apartment. She remembered the tenderness of his mouth against her, his tongue stroking, wet into wet. If she tried, she could almost imagine the spray doing the same, imagine Gage’s wide shoulders pushed between her thighs, his hands holding her ankles tight as she jerked against his searching mouth.
A sudden knock at the bathroom door startled her eyes open. She gasped, sitting upright too quickly, her head spinning.
“Alison?” Gage’s voice called through the door, concerned. “You okay? I thought I heard something.”
Had she made a noise? “I’m fine,” she squeaked. “Be out in a second!” Quickly, she dialed off the water and forced herself to calm down. Nothing was going to happen right now, she reminded herself. I bet you look real sexy, Lawrence. Dead tired and wrapped in bandages. She’d better hope Gage had a thing for invalids.
Gingerly, she worked herself up and out of the shower, hopping and clinging to the towel rack to avoid her right ankle. Somehow it felt more painful than it had before the shower. Shock reduced pain, she remembered the EMT’s explanation. She should ice it before it swelled up any more. And what about Gage’s bite wound? Had he cleaned it like the EMT directed? Could shifters get infections?
Worried, she called out, “How’s your leg? Do you need anything for it?” She wrapped a warm towel tightly around herself, hobbled to the door, and cracked it open.
“I took care of it.” Gage came out from the living room. He was wearing a pair of his cozy sweats, gray instead of the navy she’d borrowed. “I keep first aid and a change of clothes in the car. Good for stake-outs, just in case.”
Alison nodded, distracted by the strong sense memory of wearing Gage’s clothes— the comforting smell and the erotic feeling. Yesterday in his office, he had given her just what she wanted, sliding the fabric of his clothes against her sensitized skin, baring her to his gaze, rough and tender. Had that really been only yesterday? It felt like weeks ago. Like she had known him forever.
Gage scanned her face with tentative, soft eyes. “How are you feeling? Can I help you get to bed?”
Alison bit her lip, glancing down at the towel she wore, then at her ankle, which pulsed with pain. “Sure. Thank you.” She smiled at him, self-conscious.
“It’s no problem. That’s what I’m here for.” He smiled back. Gage’s arm came around her waist and guided her down the hall as she limped along, leaning heavily on his shoulder. She clutched at the towel with her left hand, attempting to maintain some dignity. “Hang on,” Gage said, pausing as he noticed her discomfort. “Let me just...” He reached down, slipped an arm around her knees, and swung her up into his chest.
Alison gasped, leaning instinctively toward him. “Oh! No, you don’t need to—”
“I’ve got you,” he reassured, and strode comfortably toward her bedroom.
Alison pulled th
e towel tighter around her herself, trying to ignore the heat and strength radiating from Gage’s muscled chest. He was just being gentlemanly. It wasn’t like she was being carried off to his den for some erotic mating ritual or— or whatever. As he laid her down, his gaze finally lowered to the place where her breasts swelled against the towel, and his breath held for a moment, hunger in his eyes. Alison’s breath picked up speed, chest rising with a strange yet familiar longing.
Then Gage let go of her, stepping back with his hands open and empty. “I’ll get you an ice pack,” he rumbled, voice low and tight.
Alison felt her face flush red as he turned away. For your ankle, she scolded herself. He meant for your ankle. But her body missed his touch, ached for him between her legs. She tucked herself under the covers and tossed her towel to the floor, mind whirling with emotion and exhaustion. What was she doing?
When Gage returned, he placed the ice pack on the side table and crouched down next to her bed. “Think you’ll be able to sleep? I’ll be right out in the living room if you need me. I’m sorry I’ll have to wake you up now and then to check your head.”
She nodded, gazing up at his kind, weary eyes. “You’re being so sweet to me,” she murmured tiredly.
Gage breathed quietly, a dart of pain flickering over his handsome face. “Alison... This is how I would treat my mate. If you—” his voice went husky and he paused to collect himself. “This is how you deserve to be treated all the time. Even if you don’t want me, you need to know that. You deserve to be treated like the most precious thing in your partner’s life. Because you would be.”
Alison blinked, feeling wetness at the corners of her eyes. She sniffed, then wiped her eyes and reached upward to press a soft kiss to Gage’s tense mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Gage pressed his lips together carefully, as if to feel what she had left there. He nodded slowly. “Sleep well,” he murmured.