Sorin’s large hands rested on her shoulders, his thumbs digging into the knots around the base of her neck. “You’re tense.”
Heated desire surged through her body at his unexpected touch. She tingled under his hands and leaned into the massage. Tense? No shit, Sherlock.
His presence loomed around her, more intense than anyone she’d ever met.
Closing her eyes, she pretended for a second that nothing else existed. She couldn’t read too much into this. Humans didn’t touch each other without permission. Well, at least the polite ones. From the data she’d gathered, shifters did.
“I’m not used to physical activity.” Most wouldn’t consider standing in front of a chalkboard crunching symbolic math an exercise.
He snorted.
“I’ve also been picking at my brain all night trying to come up with a solution for the sick.”
The massage slowed.
“It’s so frustrating. I know what is probably wrong and what they need but it’s not available in this dimension.”
Sorin’s hands slipped from her shoulders.
“If I could figure out how to open a gateway, maybe then we’d stand a chance. But there’s no electricity or computers, let alone a wrench…”
Sorin moved around the table and sat in front of her, his eyebrows drawn together. “If my world is similar to yours, wouldn’t it contain the things you need?”
“At a basic level, yes, but the technology isn’t here.”
“Tech—technology?”
“Machinery, science.”
“The vampires are more advanced than we are. They may have something we can use.”
She sat straighter. “Like what?”
“I’ve never been to the castle so this is only hearsay, but they have weapons that throw projectiles and carts that run on steam.”
Steam age. She’d already considered the possibility of time travel and decided it wasn’t a feasible hypothesis. That’s not how dimension hopping worked. DOUG created a bridge from a fixed point in time that matched the other dimension. If only she could figure out why Eorthe hadn’t developed at the same rate as Earth, then she might stop worrying about any errors she’d made in her dimension theories. “No.” What she wanted was a pharmacy and antibiotics. All these people needed were some medicines her Earth took for granted. Most of the pack would die from a simple, community-acquired pneumonia. She dropped her head into the palms of her hands.
“Maybe with Lailanie’s knowledge of the local herbs you can make what’s needed.”
She looked up at him slowly, her fingers trailing along her cheeks. “Make it…” she whispered.
“Yes, she’s not a full healer but she knows more than me and—”
“Wait.” Something she’d read slid into her thoughts. Slippery as a worm, it stayed out of her grasp. If she was distracted now, she might lose it. Make it, make it, make it.
Insomnia. Months ago, she’d been bored and surfing the net, reading tidbits here and there. Clicking on what caught her interest and floating on the flotsam of the Internet. Antibiotics were developed during the Korean War. Penicillin, the most basic form, came from blue mold. She’d read a blog about making it at home. Basic survival skills if the world came to end or something of that nature. She’d laughed at the idea. Who would trust homemade medicine?
She wasn’t laughing now. “Mold. We need old bread.” Standing so quickly she knocked her chair to the floor, she spun to scrutinize the cluttered kitchen. “Or cheese.”
“Old bread?”
Her heart fluttered. “The more mold the better.” She had it. Oh, she hoped she had it. The solution was so simple. “I also need water, sugar and yeast.” She counted off the things on her fingers while Sorin raced around the kitchen, lifting clay containers and sniffing through unknown jars.
Out of breath, he spun around. “What else?”
“Um—um…” Her brain cramped as she shuffled through the data. Great memory could be handy sometimes. Even the stupid things remained saved. She pictured her mental filing system—the way she retained all her knowledge. Searching under miscellaneous, she found her keep-for-post-apocalypse-scenario memories. “I need an airtight container.” Where would he find Tupperware?
Sorin set a jug on the table with a cork.
“Perfect.” She tried to high-five him and met air. “Okay, never mind my insanity.” With rising spirits, she emptied the container’s contents into the teacups and ignored the questioning expression on Sorin’s face. “Get the fire really hot. I need to boil the jug and cork.”
She stared at him as he did as she asked without question. None of her assistants back home were this focused. It wasn’t in his nature to take orders—she’d experienced this first hand—yet here he followed her directions. His trust touched her.
He knelt by the hearth, blowing on the coals and adding wood to boil the cauldron of water.
Some of those knots in her shoulders eased while she rinsed and cleaned the jug. She couldn’t imagine the Payami alphas working this hard for their pack. Sorin had traveled from the Temple carrying her yesterday morning, dug graves last evening, took care of the ill all night, and was now helping her make medicine early in the morning.
“You should rest. I can handle this.”
The line of his jaw tightened. “I will when you do.” He set the water closer to the flame. “What next?”
She ground her teeth and moved to the table where Sorin had deposited the spoiled food. No point in arguing with a hard-head. While the jug sterilized, she examined the moldy bits. The messy kitchen might have saved the pack.
“What are you making?” He peered at a decaying bread crumb between his fingers.
“Penicillin. It cures most infections. This is an old recipe that’s been mostly forgotten.”
“Something which is old for your world has not been discovered here.”
“Yet. Who knows what happened on Eorthe’s timeline to hold your progress back? Maybe something happened on Earth’s timeline to accelerate our advances.” She shrugged then held up a piece of cheese. “See the blue mold? It excretes a liquid called penicillium, which might cure the lung disease your people have.”
His bright amber eyes widened. He set the moldy bread back on pile gently. “How long before it’s ready?”
The intensity of his stare bored into her soul. Her IQ began to drop. “S-six days.”
He snapped his gaze away. “Six! Most will be dead in six days.”
Reeling in the wake of his presence, Susan busied her hands, cutting off bits of mold and kickstarting her brain. “I know. Let me think.” The antibiotics needed to ferment in a warm medium to make pharmaceutical-grade penicillin. “Can you make a thin broth?”
Sorin tilted his chin and frowned. “Yes.”
Responsibility weighed a lot. She set the knife aside. “We’ll make a weak batch and use it until the stronger one is finished. It can’t hurt to try.” She didn’t need his doubts plaguing her. She had enough of her own.
She scraped the mold from the old food while he prepared broth. Half the mold went into the sterile jug with the water, sugar and yeast. The other half, she stirred into the cooled broth.
“We need to let it sit until afternoon. The longer in the broth, the better the medicine.” She plopped onto a chair, weariness seeping into her marrow.
Sorin stirred the broth, then met her tired gaze. “Thank you, Susan.”
“Thank me if it works.”
He smiled at her.
Stunned, she watched his scarred face transformed by his lazy, crooked grin. Years of worry disappeared. She’d given up trying to crack his shell. Finally, he’d dropped his alpha’s mask and showed her the real Sorin.
“You’ve given me the most hope I’ve had in a long while.” He drew her onto her feet.
Before she could blink, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her lips. Quick and soft, it barely brushed her. The exhaustion plaguing her body vanished and her spirit soared. Thank God, sh
e’d been wrong. He really did like her.
He hesitated as he pulled away, hovering over her mouth.
She licked her lips, making sure what she’d felt was real.
Sorin glanced at the movement, hunger blazing in his eyes. Strong arms engulfed Susan before she could take a breath. He bent, pressing their bodies together, and devoured her mouth. Hard and deep, he kissed her as if the secrets of life rested on her lips.
Tangling her fingers in his long hair, she pulled him even closer. A moan slipped from her throat as the warmth in her belly ignited into a full-blown wildfire.
He growled back, his hands moving lower to massage her ass.
She burned with desire, and Sorin held the only thing that would extinguish the flames. Running her hand under his leather kilt, she touched his bare, hard-muscled thigh.
“Sorin?” a woman’s voice called.
They sprang apart.
Lailanie entered the kitchen. “What are you doing?” Her eyes narrowed as her glare landed on Susan.
“Ma—” Sorin cleared his throat. “Making medicine.” His hair stuck out at odd angles where she had gripped him.
“Is that what they call it?” She strolled toward Susan and tucked part of her shirt back into her pants.
Chapter Eighteen
Sorin tried to keep his hope under rein as he carried the heavy pot of healing broth into the gathering–chamber-turned-sickroom. This had to work.
Susan hovered at his elbow. Anxiety tinged her clear, sharp scent as she nibbled on her nail.
The pot occupied his hands so he couldn’t keep her from chewing off her thumb. He stopped before entering the room. “All will be well.” Doubt would harm his pack. They needed her confident and calm.
“What if it’s not strong enough?”
“You’ve made us wait until afternoon to allow this weak brew to strengthen. The sick can’t afford to wait any longer.” He glanced at the mold soup he was about to serve his people. Doubts returned. “Will it hurt them?”
“No.”
“So this dose will help them and the next ones will only be stronger.” Some of the females were preparing bread to mold so they could continue making batches.
“I know, I know, but how much should they drink?”
“The human has a valid point.” Lailanie exited the chamber. The prickly odor of her anger still clung to her.
How did Lailanie make him feel guilty over a kiss? He held in a sigh. It was truly a gift. Staring her down didn’t work. The pain bleeding from her wounded gaze twisted his heart. He’d made his disinterest in her clear years ago yet she still hounded him.
He glanced at Susan. It was just a kiss—one that kept him busy all morning with thoughts of soft, unblemished skin, firm ass and needy moans. Biting his inner cheek, he banished these thoughts. They’d only lead him to the cold mountain spring outside the den again. Dumping bucket after bucket of icy water over his body and groin had helped a few hours ago.
“The children need smaller amounts than the adults. How many are sick?” Both females left him and approached the pack bed, discussing doses versus quantity.
He sought out Peder and placed the pot next to his favorite omega.
“Good morning, Alpha.” The slender shifter set out cups. Susan insisted on individual dishware to prevent the spread of the disease. The simple measures she’d suggested all made sense once she rationalized them. Yet no one from Sorin’s pack had thought of them. She continued to amaze him.
Sorin noticed a tremor in Peder’s hands.“Did you sleep?”
“Yes.”
Sorin didn’t need his keen sense of smell to recognize the lie and patted the omega’s shoulder. He appreciated Peder’s effort to ease his concerns then he knelt and stirred the broth.
The four of them were the only healthy people in the cavern. To prevent further spread of the illness, he called all other pack members to their duties in the den. Some worked to make penicillin, a few went to hunt and others managed the neglected cleaning. It would be nice to have fresh meat again.
Both females returned.
Susan smiled at Peder.
Sorin choked on a growl aimed at the pretty omega male. He didn’t like the comfortable manner between them. Once Sorin made his intentions clear, Peder had better back off.
Shrinking low to the ground, the other male remained still.
“Stop glaring.” Susan smacked Sorin’s shoulder. Her defense of Peder hurt a hundred times more than the strike.
Lailanie stepped in between him and Susan, making sure to sit next to him, so close he thought she would land upon his lap. “She doesn’t understand our ways. She’ll never adapt.”
A flush spread across his human’s cheeks. “This dose is weak and won’t affect their fever. We’ll still need more of those flowers you use.”
Sorin’s gaze traveled to the omega.
“I will depart this afternoon.” Peder didn’t meet his stare. He didn’t want to leave the den. Tending the sick suited the omega’s nature, but he was the only one who knew where another patch of the flowers grew.
“Good. Be careful. Stay off Temple lands.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
Susan nodded to them. “We should test for allergies to the medicine before administering it.”
“How?” Lailanie leaned forward.
“Scratch the inside of the person’s arm and apply a drop. If the skin swells or a rash develops, then we can’t give them the medicine.”
Before anyone could ask, Peder rose with a cup of the broth and started the process.
Susan took command so easily. His pack did as she asked without question or challenge. That was the biggest difference between these two females. Lailanie ordered and bullied, where Susan made requests and suggestions. Her tasks were to the point, organized and well thought out.
He grabbed a cup of broth and joined Peder. “How long do we wait?”
“Not long.” She turned her back on Lailanie—something a shifter would never have done. Not with the hostility radiating from the other female.
At least Lailanie didn’t demand a challenge.
He wouldn’t have allowed it, but any of his interventions would lower Susan’s good status with the pack. Shifters didn’t respect weakness. Most saw physical prowess as the source of power and leadership. He knew better. Saw it this morning in the kitchen. Knowledge was true power, and Susan was the smartest person he’d ever met.
She stared at the sick. Her eyes were open but not seeing. She still wore the outfit from the day he’d met her at the Temple. He was a terrible host, never offering her fresh clothes or a bath. She hadn’t demanded any either. Her hair had once been tightly pinned up, but now strands hung loose and a brown smudge marred her cheek.
She was beautiful.
Someone touched his hand, startling him.
Peder winked. “She’d be quite a catch.”
Running his fingers through his tangled hair, Sorin shook his head and kept from laughing. Now the omega grew balls.
Peder removed the cup from his hands. “Let me finish the testing. She hasn’t eaten anything all day. You should feed her.”
Sorin raised an eyebrow. “Her being human doesn’t bother you?” It should.
“If she makes you happy? No.” Peder shrugged. “A happy alpha is a good alpha. Sometimes you need to take care of yourself in order to take care of us.”
The good of the pack always came first whenever Sorin made a decision. They had suffered so long under his father’s selfish reign. He wouldn’t make those same mistakes. Doing so would only weaken them further.
Indulgence in females, excess in drinking, and physically dominating each pack member would mimic his father’s behavior.
Sorin wanted something more. He wasn’t sure what though. A strong female by his side—someone the pack respected, and who loved them as much as he did. Did she exist? What, by the Dark Goddess, was happy?
When he kissed Susan—that made him happy.
She lifted her face toward him as if hearing his thoughts, a secret smile on her delicious lips.
The memory of her hungry, searching mouth still fresh in his thoughts, he rose and cleared his throat. He crossed the room and took her hand. “We should eat.” Not waiting for an answer, he led her away.
“What about the testing?”
“Have faith in Lailanie and Peder. We won’t be gone long. I wish to be there for the first dose as well.”
She followed him to the kitchen. The place had been empty for days, but not now. People filled it like before the illness. The scent of fresh bread came from the oven, a roast was being prepared and a pack of pups grasping fresh carrots almost ran him over as Sorin stood transfixed in the doorway. He glanced at Susan. “Wait here.”
His people moved out of his way when he entered.
“Alpha? Would you like a meal?” Marin, a female whose mate lay on the sick bed, offered him a chunk of buttered bread.
“Can you prepare a small meal for two to go?” He didn’t want to share Susan’s company. That was selfish. He glanced back at her.
She still wore the secret smile.
His stomach felt empty, and it had nothing to do with food. He wanted Susan to desire him. Sorin. A male, not the alpha of the Apisi. If he had been a hunter, would she have kissed him?
“Alpha?” Marin handed him a basket.
He returned to Susan, leading her past the pups who now played stalk and chase. “The kitchen is crowded. We’ll find someplace quieter to eat.”
“Like a picnic.” She slipped her hand back into his.
The gesture swelled his chest. As a lost female, she had no one to protect her. He rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of her fingers. She had someone to watch over her now.
They didn’t have much time before administering the medicine so he didn’t take her far. At the back of the canyon, a narrow goat path climbed the cliff face.
She dug her nails into his palm. “Up there? Are you nuts? I hate heights.”
Gently, he pried her talons from his flesh. “I know, but I’m here. I won’t let you fall.” He kissed her fingertips.
Her gaze grew heavy as she watched. The smoldering warmth caught his breath and could have melted a glacier.
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