Rescued by the Wolf
Page 4
“I go to school in Alaska,” she said. “I just started.”
“School?” He looked surprised.
“Getting my doctorate,” she answered. “Anthropology.”
“You’re from Alaska?” he asked.
“No.” She was so tired. She’d been tired for the last year or so. And stressed. There were things you couldn’t unlearn, couldn’t erase from your mind, no matter how hard you might want to.
He wrapped the coat around her. “You’re shivering.”
“Am I?” she asked, immediately turning into him and placing her hand against the warmth of his skin.
His broken groan startled her. “Stop moving,” he hissed, shifting her against him so her head rested on his chest. “Relax.”
She did, instantly. With him close, there was no choice. She felt comfortable, safe—protected. And she was so, so tired.
“Why Alaska?” His voice was fading.
“My brother,” she answered, his steady pace rocking her. “One of his clients lived there—he said it was nice. He was always moving me around. Now I think maybe it was because someone was looking for him. Or me?”
His hand rhythmically stroked her back. “What does your brother do?”
The frustration she’d been fighting with the better part of a year boiled up. “A year ago, I’d say he sold foreign and luxury items. He took over my father’s company when Dad died. Suddenly, he was going by Chase, not Eddie—his real name. It’s like he’s a rock star or gangster or something? He’s making new friends and keeping odd hours and more protective than ever. Chase decided to change things up. I don’t know exactly what he’s doing. I’m not sure I want to know. Last time I was home, something was wrong. Late night calls, people coming and going at all hours, Chase always stressed. And now shady guys with big knives are involved.” She paused. “I’m not sure that answered your question.”
Mal’s grunt was the only answer.
“I think my brother’s the bad guy, Mal.” She chewed on her lower lip, the sting of tears burning her eyes. “I don’t know what to do, you know? These people that did this to me—do I go to the police? Do I report them and, in all likelihood, hand my brother over as well?”
No answer.
“Are you listening?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he growled. “I’m listening to every damn word you’re saying. Give me a minute.” His arm tightened, just a little.
She smiled.
“This client in Alaska—do you know them?”
“No… Chase and I have money, Mal.” She lifted her head. “Do you think that’s what this was about? Money? Were they going to ransom me?”
“You’re moving,” he bit out.
She rested her head again, relaxing in his hold.
“It’s possible. Why was Chase there when you were attacked?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I had no idea he was coming. I had the flu and was walking across campus from the med clinic, and there he was, waving at me. Next thing, this guy pulled up in a van. He and Chase started talking, they fought, and the guys started shoving Chase. I ran up then, put myself between them, and you know what happened.”
“You didn’t hear anything they were saying?” he asked.
“Something about a bad shipment, not what he’d promised.” Olivia burrowed closer. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked, her hand stroking his chest.
“No.” His hand covered hers, stilling it.
His heart beat under her ear, the steady thump a soothing lullaby. She’d almost drifted off when his voice woke her.
“Olivia? Did you hear me?” he asked.
“No,” she murmured.
“It might have been a kidnapping. Or payback against your brother for this faulty shipment.”
“I was almost asleep.” She yawned.
“I thought you said this was a dream,” he pointed out.
“Payback?” she asked, her brain still foggy from sleep.
“Chase’s visit wasn’t planned?” Mal asked. “But this happened at your university?”
“Right.”
“Then they were there for you.” The razor-sharp edge in his voice jolted her awake. His hand slid beneath her shirt, pressing his palm against her back, as if he understood she needed comfort—that his touch would give her what she needed.
There for you. What did that mean? What would they have done to her?
Clearly these people were capable of horrible things. She felt her wrists, remembering the sting of the rope—the feel of the needle in her flesh.
When she’d first seen Mal, he’d been chained to the wall, beaten and bruised and so menacing she’d wanted to hide from him—if she’d been able to move. They’d done that to him. And yet, he’d rescued her.
“Why did you save me?” she asked, holding her breath.
“I almost didn’t,” he said.
She smiled. “But you did. With a knife in your shoulder. And no clothes. Not knowing a thing about me.”
He stayed silent.
“Mal?” she pushed.
“I had to,” he whispered.
Chapter Four
He bolted awake. Something was off. How long had he been asleep? Not long, surely.
It was cold. Damn cold, even for him.
A sound? Animal.
A predator. Big.
Screaming.
Mal sat up, his senses sharpening instantly.
He glanced at Olivia—Olivia. The place beside him was empty. She was gone. His heart stopped, the world grinding to a complete stop.
Fuck no.
Where was she? He jumped, scanning the site, ears reaching, nose seeking. A trough in the overnight snow. She’d been pulled away? Some blood—her blood—leading away, into the trees.
It was her screaming. He could hear her. Olivia. Goddammit.
The sound gave the wolf permission to take control. Mal welcomed the wolf, embracing the burn of stretching muscles and snap of rearranging bone. The wolf would find her, bring her back, and make sure whatever had her would regret taking her from him. He was running before the shift was complete, his claws still splitting through the new fur of his paws as he covered the ground.
The scent was animal. Not human.
Whatever had Olivia, it wasn’t the Others.
Sharp, musky, pungent. Bear.
The wolf ran faster.
He and the rest of Finn’s pack were bigger than the average timber wolf—bigger teeth, bigger ears, bigger everything. And strong. Dangerously lethal. It made him a merciless killing machine—one most animals feared. Maybe that’s why the bear had been dragging Olivia away. It had sensed that Mal was a threat.
He charged through the trees, following the tracks—too much blood—until he saw her. Olivia, crying, her arms flailing over her head, her hands tearing at small saplings seeking some sort of hold. It wouldn’t make a difference. A grizzly bear lugged her behind. Without him, Olivia didn’t stand a chance.
He didn’t hesitate. His howl split the air, adrenaline and power coursing through him.
The bear turned, dropping Olivia’s leg, and reared up. It was big, posturing, baring its teeth and roaring.
Challenge accepted.
Mal glanced at Olivia, her blood turning the white snow a brilliant, horrible red. She was crying, trying to crawl into the trees. He wanted to yell at her to stay still—she was bleeding too much. And then the grizzly’s frying-pan-size paw sent him a good fifteen feet into the air and back—it’s claws leaving gouges deep in his muscles.
Mal jumped up, circling until he could spring onto the bear’s back. He sank his teeth into its shoulder, unable to reach its neck, and was rewarded by the hot tang of blood in his mouth. The bear tried to shake him loose, but Mal leaped free, taking a hunk of the bear with him.
All the rage he’d been suppressing took over. The urge to kill, the spurt of blood and the weakening of his foe, was all that mattered. Rational thought vanished in a haze of blinding red fury.
Mal ran to Olivia’s side. He circled, sniffing her. The bear had torn into her wounded leg, its teeth leaving an angry open wound. It was a miracle she wasn’t already dead. The wolf howled again and again, unable to bear the thought of losing her.
And dammit, neither could Mal.
He whimpered, desperate to save her.
“I give you permission to eat me,” she muttered, blood covering her chest and leg. “If you’ll let me die first, please?” She was serious, he could tell. If he’d been in human form, he’d laugh—then tell her to be strong. But with her wounds, she couldn’t tough this out, and no tourniquet would make this better. Something hard and jagged settled into his chest.
Save her. It was a plea.
No, he couldn’t do that to her. Death was peaceful…
She held her hand out, startled when he pressed his head into her hand. Why did her touch have to ease him?
“I don’t want to die,” she said, crying then, covering her face with her hands and sobbing uncontrollably.
Don’t let her die. The wolf pleaded.
He couldn’t leave her alone to deal with this. He shifted quickly, knowing he’d feel it in his muscles and joints later. “Olivia?” he gasped.
“Mal?” Her voice was panicked, her hands dropped from her face. “Run, Mal! You have to run. There’s a wolf. And a bear.”
“Hush,” he argued, inspecting her injuries while fighting for control.
Save her. His wolf demanded it.
“Don’t…hush me. I’m dying, I think.” She stared at him, her hazel eyes clear and huge in her pale face. She’d lost so much blood. “You’re a gorgeous man, Mal. I’m glad I got to kiss you before I die.” Her hand rose, trembling, so he took it in his.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Olivia Chase.” He cleared his throat, knowing he should swallow back the words that tried to force their way out. Death was a natural part of life. People died all the time. Sometimes naturally, sometimes not. Olivia Chase was a sweet girl, someone who’d had something horrible happen to her. But that didn’t mean he was supposed to step in and change her fate. He’d promised his pack. He knew how fucked up this life was. But the words came out anyway. He couldn’t stop them—maybe he didn’t want to. “Let me save you,” he whispered.
There was nothing his wolf wanted more.
A furrow formed between her brows. “Save me?”
“The life you know won’t exist anymore.” His voice was raw. “It will be harsher, more violent.” She stared at him, fading. “You have to decide now, Olivia.”
She blinked, coughed, a trickle of blood spilling over her full lower lip.
“Fuck it,” he growled. She was out of time. He stood back, shifting again, rushing through the transformation out of sheer desperation. When he looked down at her next, he was a wolf, and she was staring at him in shock and awe.
“Mal?” she croaked. “No way. You’re…what?” A slight frown formed as her eyes drifted shut.
Mal growled, ignoring the pain in his chest. His gaze swept her body. Her leg was already damaged—one more bite wouldn’t change that. He bit into her right thigh, whimpering at her cry, at the way she tried to pull away from him, at the taste of her blood in his mouth.
In that instant, his eyes saw through hers. He saw himself—his wolf—biting her leg. Felt the nightmare pain, biting cold, and bone-deep weariness. Flashes of Olivia bombarded him. Memories, sensations, experiences, hopes, and dreams. Saw her brother Chase and knew him. Heard his own voice assuring her, “I’m here.” Felt her response to his kiss. God, she’d ached for him. It crowded in on him, drowning him, until there was a single pinpoint on a blanket of white—Olivia on the snow below him.
He shook his head, nudging her with his nose.
She was breathing steadily, a slight hint of color on her cheeks. He’d infected her, so he knew what was coming. A fever, shakes, nightmare-like delusions—things she’d already been dealing with. Her first change would happen in two days, with the full moon. After that, she’d be able to change at will, if she learned to control her wolf.
His wolf snorted. They had an understanding. Mal might not always agree with his wolf, but he didn’t hold him back, either. The animal had instincts that had never led him astray.
Turning Olivia didn’t make much sense but…it had been necessary. In that moment, there had been no choice. Now he was a pack of two. He had a responsibility to Olivia. And, oddly, that didn’t bother him. But finding safety before the Others found them did.
...
Olivia was walking in the snow. Her toes were blue, no longer capable of feeling the cold. What little clothing she wore was shredded and covered in blood. She was looking for something, desperately. She tried to call out again but couldn’t make a sound.
The bear lay dead, eyes rolled back in its head, mouth hanging open. Odd. It was twitching? The massive torso—shoulders—jerking where it lay.
The head of a white wolf popped up. Red covered its nose, strands of blood and drool connecting the wolf to the carcass it feasted on. Pale eyes speared hers, sharp and mesmerizing and soulless, flooding her with terror and holding her hostage.
Instinct told her to run—to get away from the wolf. But it, the wolf, wouldn’t let her. It leaped atop the bear, peering at her, its tail swishing in agitation. The wolf sniffed the air then tilted his head back and howled.
The air seemed to shiver around her, freeing her from whatever spell held her. She dropped, crumpling into the snow and wrapping her arms around her knees.
The white wolf was circling her, its menacing growl making the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up. He would hurt her; she saw it in his eyes. And he, the wolf, was excited—baring his fangs at her when she dared look him in the eye.
It pissed her off.
Rage, an unfamiliar emotion, consumed her, fueled by every hurt or insult she’d ever buried deep inside. Her parents. Her sweet fiancée John. Her sweet boyfriend Mike. Chase, for dragging her all over the place and leaving her at the mercy of that man. The bear, for attacking her. Splinter images of every injustice from elementary school to adulthood filled her with a living, breathing fury.
She could fight this wolf.
“Don’t.” Mal’s voice was at her ear. “Stay calm.”
The white wolf howled again, tempting her to go against Mal’s advice, until her body was wracked by blinding agony. Pain. That was all there was.
“Olivia,” Mal whispered, “I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t focus on Mal or his words or the wolf or…anything. If she was dying, she’d like it to be over—now. Why did it hurt so much?
“Stop fighting, Olivia. It will be over soon,” he pleaded.
That was good news, but it didn’t stop her from crying, mostly from the pain. But there was a small part of her that understood her life was almost over. She curled in on herself, hoping to find a position that hurt less—if there was one.
“I’m here.” Mal’s voice.
She wasn’t alone. “Mal?” She thought she was screaming. It was a whisper.
“Listen to me.” Rough and deep, rich and soothing. “It’s the infection. What you’re seeing—it’s not real. We’re in a cabin…there’s a hole in the roof. Snow’s coming in.”
She turned toward his voice, calming at the feel of his skin against her cheek and nose. His arms were around her. She could smell him, feel him, but she couldn’t see him. Her eyes were open, she was blinking, but it was pitch black.
“Bear’s dead,” he murmured.
Which was go
od news.
“Should be safe for now,” he added. “Time to get your strength back.” His fingers stroked along her neck and shoulder.
It was amazing. She arched into his touch.
“You’re healing,” he whispered, his fingers running down her arm, pausing to rub here and there. “Scratches are almost gone.”
Scratches? Wasn’t she bleeding to death? Somehow, scratches didn’t matter. Neither did bleeding to death. She wasn’t hurting because of his touch. Why had he stopped?
“Fucking Others. Fucking bear. Fucking moon,” he growled, his fingers tracing the length of her thigh. “Fuck,” he whispered.
She didn’t know what he was talking about. He was massaging her thigh with strong, deep strokes. It was heaven. Of course, there was a very real possibility she was in heaven. Did that mean Mal was dead, too? He’d died saving her from the bear?
He couldn’t be. She whimpered.
“Rest, Olivia,” he added, his tone sharp, his breath brushing her forehead.
She relaxed against him. Her fingers and hands tingled—she flexed, breathing easier. Arms, too. Heavier than normal, but mobile. Resting held no appeal. Now that she wasn’t feeling so disembodied, she realized Mal was holding her in his lap. She pressed her nose to his collarbone, placed one hand on his chest, and blew out a shaky breath.
He tugged her closer. “This is going to be a problem.”
Her dying? Yes, it was. Because, even though she hated pain and fear and being chased and attacked, she really didn’t want to leave Mal.
“I won’t be a problem,” she whispered, her throat raw and hoarse.
He chuckled. “You already are.” But he didn’t sound upset about it.
Chapter Five
Mal’s wolf was driving him bat-shit crazy. He got that Olivia was theirs. He understood that keeping her safe was important. They were a pack, that’s the way it went. So why wouldn’t it shut up about her?
And why had she taken precedence over revenge?
The only thing that kept him from losing his mind in that godforsaken cell was imagining vengeance. In detail. Regularly.
Every time a silver needle was imbedded beneath a fingernail or claw. Every bone they’d broken, high-decibel sound they’d blasted him with, and knife they’d used on his fur—he could hardly wait to return the favor. By the time Mal became immune to one torture, they’d find something new. They knew how far they could push him without killing him. They’d told him to beg and they’d stop.