Marked Clan #2 - Red

by Maurice Lawless

  I dove for my bag, but he was faster. His body slammed into mine, and my lungs collapsed in on themselves. I gasped for air and felt for my gun. The slate gray wolf knocked him off me, but not before he sank teeth into my left arm. The motion of him being pulled off me yanked the wounds open further.

  My other hand touched cold metal, and I brought my gun up quickly. I didn’t know what to shoot. I saw four wolves wrestling each other, writhing masses of muscle, fur, and teeth. With a snap, the one who’d held the knife to my throat yelped and was silent. Not long after, the second one wriggled free and ran away.

  I scrambled to my bag and reached inside for a pen. Maybe while they were distracted I could get the big one. They’d called him Dree’s Alpha, which meant he was the one I needed to kill.

  I made it a couple of feet before my vision swam. I wasn’t bleeding that bad, was I? I looked down at the bite wound. My arm was slick with blood. Okay, maybe I was. The sky picked that exact moment to open up and drench us all. The last thing I remembered before I blacked out was a mouth full of damp grass.

  Chapter Ten

  I dreamed of panicked voices and thunderstorms. I couldn’t decide if I was walking or flying. I moved, but my legs didn’t. I felt soft, warm flesh against my face. It was a nice change against the chill of the rain.

  “She needs a hospital!” Dree said.

  “I will take her,” said another woman. She was very close.

  “The nearest one is about two miles, that way,” Dree said. “Should I get the car?”

  “I will run,” the woman said. I dreamed we were flying fast. Wet leaves and wind whipped around us. I saw a face above me.

  “Mom? I don’t feel good. I don’t want to go to school today.”

  When I woke up, I was back in my apartment. Connor sat beside me on the bed. He’d fallen asleep in his reading glasses. They looked so tiny on his face. He never wore them in public; he was afraid it would hurt his image of the rough-and-tumble Scotsman. I tried to sit up and screamed in pain. My arm felt like it was tearing itself apart.

  Connor jumped awake and put his glasses on my nightstand. “Damn, Bon. You sure know how to wake a guy up. Don’t move too much—you’ll pull your stitches.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  He got up and stretched. I saw a piece of cotton stuck to his arm with medical tape. “I was hoping you’d tell me, Margaret Jane. You look like you’ve been wrestling timber wolves.”

  Pretty close, actually. “Did I lose a lot of blood?”

  He looked down at his arm. “Aye. You’re goddamned lucky the traffic was light. They didn’t have a lot of plasma handy. You’re the second trauma victim they had in the span of a couple of hours.”

  “Thank you, Connor.”

  He sat back down and reached his arm over my shoulders. I leaned into him like I used to when I was little, and he stroked my hair. “Sweet Jesus, Bon. What will I do with you? If Glenna had told me the trouble you’d be later on, I’d have sent you off to a boarding school in the Old Country.”

  I laughed. “Poppa would have liked that.”

  “Aye, he would have. See his bonny wee lass off running along the moors. It’s a shame his mind had to go in the end. Hell of a way to die.”

  I wanted to correct Connor—Poppa had died every bit as lucid as the day he was born—but this was his dad he was talking about. I certainly got touchy when I thought about Mom. He had just saved my life, too. I let him think what he would.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I did,” I said.

  “You’re probably right. Can you at least promise me one thing?”

  I sat up and nodded. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed. “Can you please, for the love of Jesus and Mary, stay in bed for the next few days and let that arm heal up? No adventures, no detective work?”

  Okay, this sweet little niece thing had gone far enough. “I may be short, but I’m not six anymore Connor. You can’t just fold me over your lap whenever you don’t like what I’m doing.”

  His jaw tensed, but he kept calm. He grabbed his glasses and slowly, deliberately folded them so he could tuck them in his shirt pocket. “Fair enough, Bon. Next time you need blood, you just call ahead first and make sure the hospital has enough.”

  “That’s not fair,” I said.

  He walked slowly out my bedroom door, through my kitchen, and calmly slammed my door hard enough to rattle the frame. Those anger management classes he’d been taking were doing wonders.

  My left arm was bandaged up thick enough that I probably could have taken a baseball bat to the wrist and felt nothing. Speaking of, there was a lovely little bottle of prescription painkillers waiting for me on the nightstand. With a couple of those and some caffeine I’d be good to go.

  I found that with enough small movements, I could get out of my bed and make some coffee without tearing anything. Thank God he’d ripped into my left arm, the son of a bitch. I snickered at my own inadvertent joke.

  “Yeah, I guess he really was.”

  In all fairness, with a mouthful of my blood he probably hadn’t got far. I took some solace in that. That image made me think of the pens and my gun. I had a moment of sheer panic that they were still laying in a pile behind that piece-of-shit apartment. I scanned my bedroom and saw a clear plastic hospital bag sitting on the floor. It had bloody clothes in it. I bent down too fast and felt a jolt of pain, but I had to know. I dumped its contents onto the floor and breathed a sigh of relief when my bag fell with a heavy THUNK. It must have been pretty crazy in there for them to not notice my gun. Then again, Connor could have spirited it away before anyone had the chance.

  How had I made it to the hospital in the first place? I remembered fragments—a woman who looked weirdly familiar, rain, and cold pavement. My arm screamed for my attention and got it. My phone rang just as I downed a couple of pills.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh thank God,” Dree said. “How are you PJ?”

  “I’m okay, no thanks to your puppy pals. You lied to me, Dree.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t play innocent. You said you were alone, and then out of the blue your pack jumps in to save the day. Next, you’re going to tell me the guy with the knife and his buddy with the hungry jaws weren’t part of your team.”

  She was quiet for a long time. “When did you start to hate me, PJ?”

  It was my turn to be quiet. I hadn’t really thought about that. I did resent Dree for leaving me so suddenly, with not so much as a phone call for five years. I’d have assumed she was dead long before if Poppa hadn’t explained things to me—the meaning of her tattoo, the curse.

  I answered her honestly, “I don’t know, Dree.”

  She sighed. “Lupin finally told me why we came back. PJ, I know what you’ve been doing. Your…hunting. It’s got the attention of some of the other packs.”

  “How many are there?” I asked.

  “I didn’t even know there were more like us until recently. Lupin doesn’t like to talk about it much.”

  “A real stand-up guy, this Lupin. You should let me take care of him for you. His bitch too. I assume she is a woman. The gray one?”

  “Slate,” she said.

  “Whatever. You haven’t answered my question. How many packs are there? How big are they?”

  “I-I don’t know,” she said. She sounded tired. “We’re only three, but the one Lupin is trying to find…he acts like it’s pretty big. He’s being very careful.”

  A polite knock on the door interrupted us. I put the phone down and walked over to it ready to rip Connor a few new orifices. Instead I saw Justin. He wore scrubs and carried a backpack in one hand…and roses in the other.

  “Oh fuck,” I said. Last person I expected right this second.

  “Maybe we should get that arm of yours looked at first?” he said, and then gave me a naughty smile. “But technically you
could call this our second date, so whatever happens after is fair game.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Hell, Justin, I must look like warmed over shit. You couldn’t have called first?”

  I let him in, and put the roses in some water while he set up on my bed. I had to dig through my cabinets to find a proper vase. I don’t get flowers much. The kind of guys I’d dated in the past would just as soon show up with a bottle of vodka, a live chicken, and peach preserves.

  “They’re beautiful,” I said. I walked in and sat on the bed, watching him unpack the contents of his bag. He was still wearing his ID badge from the hospital: Justin Frasier, M.D. - Internal Medicine.

  “You’re a good liar,” he said. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. I had to grab them from the gift shop downstairs on my way over. I hope the sentiment is worth something.”

  “Of course,” I said. I was suddenly very aware of how un-made-up I was. “Can you excuse me a minute?”

  I went into the bathroom and shut the door. After a few seconds of thought, I locked it too. I looked at myself in the mirror and frowned. Well, PJ, you’ve honestly looked worse. My hair was a mess and still had a bit of caked mud in it in spots. My eyes were puffy, and I was wearing faded green pajama pants and an old T-shirt with a hole right around my nipple. Of course, I wasn’t wearing any underwear.

  My closet was out there, locked away from me, and I didn’t have time for a proper hair washing. Fuck. I did the best I could and crossed my arms over my chest. That just made me look angry, and he couldn’t get to my bandages. I sighed and gave up. Hell, I’d practically thrown myself at him on our first date, so what if he saw some nipple?

  He waited patiently at the foot of my bed as I came out, looking all doctorly with his rubber gloves on. I leaned against my headboard and crossed my legs in as ladylike a fashion as I could muster. “Okay, Doc. Do your worst.”

  He laughed and scooted up closer to me. I gave him my arm, and he carefully pulled the bandage off. I had one large tear that was crisscrossed with stitches and had a few punctures. The skin around the wounds was bruised, but didn’t look infected. One of the nice things about wolf attacks was they didn’t carry any diseases.

  He swabbed each of the wounds with a slightly yellow solution. I’d seen plenty of that downstairs. “Betadine?” I asked.

  Justin nodded. “You can also use distilled water and a small amount of soap, but make sure you clean these twice a day. You probably want to keep your arm propped up for a few days to keep the swelling down, too.”

  “Do I need to wrap it when I shower?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “These aren’t dissolving stitches—you should be fine. Just give it a gentle wash afterward. You’re only a day out though, so I’d recommend you wait another day before you try and shower.”

  He covered me back up with a fresh bandage and started putting away his supplies. I put my hand on his and he paused. “Thank you, Justin,” I said.

  He smiled. “It’s no problem. I wanted to do it.”

  I leaned in and kissed him, and this time he didn’t pull away. I ran my fingers through his hair and pulled him toward me. His lips opened wide and I felt his tongue seeking mine. He pushed me down on the bed and lay across my chest.

  I grabbed his face in both of my hands, ignoring the discomfort in my left arm. His kisses were getting stronger. I felt his breath against my cheeks. He took my hands in his, and I was sure he was about to stop. He pulled away, but lifted my hands above my head.

  “Need to keep it elevated,” he said. “Let me help.”

  He pinned my wrists together with one hand and moved his kisses down to my neck, just below the jaw. He sucked gently, biting down just enough to make me squirm. The Boy Scout had some moves after all.

  He shifted his body so more of him was on top of me. I felt his excitement rubbing up against my left thigh. He kept my wrists pinned above my head and kissed down to my collarbone, then nuzzled my thin shirt down to the hole over my right breast.

  His tongue flicked the exposed skin and my whole body seized up. Fuck, it had been way too long since anyone had done that. I pushed up against him with my hips, rubbing my thigh against the whole firm length of him. Pajamas and scrubs aren’t exactly known for being thick material, so I felt every detail against me.

  With his free hand, he snaked down under my shirt and exposed my stomach. He let go of my wrists, but I left them up there anyway. I kind of liked the idea of being at his whim—for now.

  He nuzzled down my shirt and touched the bare skin just above my belly button. I jerked involuntarily, and he laughed. “Ticklish?”

  “A bit,” I said. I closed my eyes. “Don’t stop, for fuck’s sake.”

  He pushed my shirt up farther, and I arched my back so he could get it over my breasts. The air in my room was cold, and soon he had one of my nipples in his mouth. He rolled it between his teeth, not hard, and flicked it with his tongue before enveloping the whole areola in his warm mouth. His free hand kneaded my other breast.

  I couldn’t play helpless anymore. I reached down with both hands, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled. He let me undress him. I opened my eyes and took in every inch as it came into view. He’d seen a little sun, this one. Unlike me though, it had left him with an even, dark shade rather than patches of freckles. He took the opportunity to finish shucking my top as well, and then settled his warm, bare chest against mine.

  We kissed, and I explored the muscles in his back with my hands. He put a hand behind my head, and the other slipped down to my lower back, and then cupped my ass. I ground my hips against him in approval. He pushed back, quite happily from what I could feel.

  He shifted so his lower body was between my legs, and I slipped my ankles behind his knees, locking our warmth together. Now the full length of him rubbed against me in just the right spot. My breathing was heavy against his neck. I reached up and sucked one of his earlobes in my mouth, holding it there with my teeth as I rolled my hips against him.

  We’d pushed our way back on the bed, and I felt the waistband of my pajamas getting lower and lower. The bare skin of his abs rubbed against the top of my mound, and I wanted to tear those thin cotton pants right off him. The hand that was on my ass slipped under the band of my pants, and I helped them down a little further.

  Oh, hell yes. Come on, Boy Scout. I ran my hands down his back and pushed. The scrubs didn’t give as easily, and it dawned on me that they probably had a tie in the front. He broke off from our kiss and latched on to my other breast. I used the opportunity to find and undo the offending string tie and push the band of his scrubs down as far as I could.

  He popped into my view then, live and kicking. The feel of him against my stomach was amazing. I just hoped he could keep it in that state longer than a few minutes.

  He pushed at my pajamas, and I lifted my ass so he could slip them off completely. I lay there for a few tantalizing seconds, exposed and waiting, while he discarded his scrubs. He was neatly trimmed as well, and had little tufts of hair across his chest. A line of black hair led me to points of interest down south. I followed it slowly, soaking in the sights.

  He climbed back on the bed, rubbing his chest against my stomach, then up to my breasts. I felt him pressing against my exposed sex. I had a feeling he wouldn’t get much resistance. My ass was already sitting on a damp spot from the effects of our earlier activities.

  He held me against him, and we locked into a deep kiss. His fingers massaged my mound, working into my folds and searching for the perfect spot. He found it quickly.

  “Oh,” I said, but it came out just a moan with our mouths locked together. He continued to rub that spot, dipping his fingers inside me briefly, and I felt my orgasm building. I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him out of our kiss.

  “Quit playing doctor and get inside me—now!”

  He didn’t waste time positioning himself, and as soon as I’d enveloped him tip to hilt, I wrapped my
legs around his waist and locked my ankles. He thrust inside as far as he could go, and I dug my nails into his back. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it.

  We were both pretty damp now, from head to toe. The temperature of the room must have gone up ten degrees just between our slick, writhing bodies. He pulled out almost completely, and then slammed back inside with one hard thrust. The feeling of emptiness, then fullness, back and forth, built me up again.

  The wave came faster than I expected. I pulled him in hard with my thighs and stopped his movement as it hit me. I felt myself clenching him as each wave hit. Then he bucked too, deep inside me. He gave me one last deep, fierce kiss, and then collapsed between my breasts.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not usually that quick. You did something there at the end that just…well did it for me.”

  I laughed and ran my hands through his hair. “Mom always said—if you find yourself a doctor, hold on to him tight.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Either the good doctor dosed me or the exertion put me down. Either way I remember waking up much later. No light filtered in through my window. My room was dark, save a sliver of light from the bathroom. I stretched out and turned to the empty side of the bed. Instead of a doctor, there was a single rose, still damp from the vase, and a handwritten note. I held it up to the light.

  Had a great time. Sorry to run, but I got called in. Hope to drop in on you again soon.

  “He’s quite handsome,” said a woman’s voice from behind me.

  I jumped and reached for my gun. It was gone.

  “Looking for this?” she asked. She leaned toward me, and light reflected off of her eyes. Amber. Fuck me, I’m helpless!

  She held Poppa’s gun in one hand and our family album in the other. She flicked on the lamp on my nightstand. The one I saw in the club? Her hair was long and black with streaks of gray. It was the only thing that might have told me her age because her skin was flawless. She also looked a lot like…no.