Kyra froze, recognizing the hulking thugs.
“What’s going on? You know these guys?”
“They’re my boyfriend, I mean, my ex-boyfriend’s men,” she quickly explained as Tyler pushed her behind him, placing his body between hers and the men who’d tracked her.
“You’re running from them?” he asked quickly as the men approached.
“Yes. They’ll either kill me or take me back to my ex. Honestly, the second option is probably worse than the first.”
“Get in the truck.” He shoved her in the direction of his truck and stepped forward as one of Rock’s men raised a gun, pointing it at her.
Needing no further encouragement than that to move, she ran to the truck, using it as a shield as Tyler ran toward Rock’s goon.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion although she knew it took less than a blink of an eye for the thug to sweep his arm in an arc, redirecting the deadly weapon toward his attacker. Tyler didn’t hesitate, the sound of the bullet ripping out of the barrel doing nothing to slow him down as he threw himself at the shooter, taking him to the ground.
Kyra screamed in reflex as she saw the men go down, and Rock’s other man ran toward her. Using the few precious seconds she had, she surveyed her surroundings. The bar door, now blocked with people who’d heard the gun blast, allowed no access to shelter. The bar itself was the first building she’d seen after taking the road. Her car set roughly three miles to her right, and she held no clue as to what she’d find up the road to her left, but from this vantage point, it looked like a large expanse of open field.
As the man sent to kill or claim her closed in, she scrambled to the passenger door of Tyler’s truck, and jumped in, locking the door as it closed. She recalled that Tyler had unlocked the doors by remote, but prayed he kept another key in the truck as she searched behind the visors and through the glove box.
Rock’s man beat on the window and she knew it would burst under the repeated assault soon. She had to get out of there. A quick glance toward the bar showed her no one would be coming to her aid. They watched the fiasco as if it were a show put on just for their entertainment.
Only Tyler had cared to help… and he’d probably already died. Tears burned her eyes and Kyra released them in silence as she continued searching. She could break down and truly mourn the stranger who’d given his life for her later. First she had to make sure she lived to be able to mourn at all.
The search through the glove box fruitless, she closed it and started searching under the dash and seats. Glass broke, tearing a scream out of her as she turned her head, knowing her end had come.
Expecting to see her pursuer lunging for her, her jaw dropped open as she took in what had happened. Tyler lived. Despite the blood pouring from his chest, he’d managed to ram the second man’s head into the window and drop him to the ground before reaching inside the truck to unlock the door.
“Drive,” he ordered, opening the door to get in.
Kyra slid behind the wheel and took the key he thrust at her, hurriedly starting the ignition. “Watch out for the glass,” she cautioned, backing out of the parking space.
“Getting cut is the least of my worries,” he groaned as he slammed the door shut and fell back against the seat, his chest heaving with his labored breathing. Blood continued to seep out of his wound.
Kyra resisted the urge to run over the fallen men they were leaving behind. “Which way to the hospital?”
“No hospital.”
“What?” She stared at the blood soaking through his flannel shirt. “You need a hospital. You’ve been shot.”
“No hospital,” he said again, this time the words coming out as a growl. “Go left, then right at the first dirt road.”
Shaking her head, Kyra did as instructed. “Tyler, you’re going to die without medical attention.”
“I’ll be fine. Just get me home.”
“Blood is pouring out of your chest.”
“Then drive faster.”
She resisted the urge to floor the gas pedal, knowing the roads were still slick from the earlier downpour, but did increase the speed as high as she felt safe. The dirt road appeared and she turned onto it. “What now?”
No response.
“Tyler!”
His eyes opened. “What? Oh… keep following this road until it forks out into three directions. Take the farthest right, then take the left when it forks again.”
Right, left, right, left, right, left … Kyra silently repeated the directions, fearful Tyler would lose consciousness before she made it. Considering that, she decided to keep him talking. Maybe that would help him remain lucid. “Is there someone to help you at your house?”
“No. I live alone right now.”
Oh geez. “Then why am I taking you home instead of a freaking hospital? Do you not comprehend that a bullet entered your body and you are still bleeding out?”
“I’m tougher than you think.”
He laughed a little, as if his statement were a joke. Kyra stared at him incredulously. The fool actually laughed. “I think you’re in shock. You don’t realize how much danger you’re in. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No!”
Kyra’s entire body stiffened under the weight of Tyler’s growled response. Not a growl like people did when they were angry. This was a real growl, the sound expected from an animal. Casting a sideways glance his way as she navigated the dirt road, she saw red in his eyes.
I’m losing my freaking mind. Focusing on the road before her, Kyra turned right at the first fork, and silently prayed as she looked for the second. If the man died, it wasn’t her fault. She did as he asked, and it wasn’t like she knew where the hospital was anyway. She could only hope and pray he knew what he was doing. The man had just risked his life for her. If he died after doing that because she was useless in saving him, she’d never forgive herself.
The second fork loomed before them. “Here’s the second fork. How much farther?” she asked, taking a left as previously instructed.
“Not far, but I’m not going to make it.”
Her heart froze as she stopped the truck and put it in Park. Turning toward him, she gasped. His once golden skin was a sickly pale color, his chest rose and fell shallowly as blood continued to slowly trickle out of it. “Oh God, Tyler, you have to make it!”
“Don’t…” He swallowed hard. “Don’t be scared. I have to … do this. No time left.”
“Do what? I don’t unders— ”
A myriad of colors sparkled over his body and within the next second, a large gray wolf sat on the bench seat next to her.
Kyra screamed, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth as she scooted back toward the driver side door. Screaming in the face of a wolf probably wasn’t a good idea. She fumbled with the door handle but palms slick with sweat couldn’t grasp it.
The wolf whined, cocking its head to the side.
She paused. It wasn’t attacking, and just a moment ago it had been … Oh shit. This wolf was Tyler. Impossible. She’d fallen asleep and was having a nightmare. Had to be.
The wolf leaned toward her, licked her cheek, and in another burst of color, transformed back into the man who’d saved her life.
As he slumped over into her lap, she noticed he remained clothed, unlike werewolves she’d heard of before. She was pretty sure they returned to human form naked. Figures, she was dreaming of a hot, heroic guy and she didn’t even get to see the goods.
You’re not dreaming. Please take me home. I need rest.
She gulped as Tyler’s voice spoke inside her mind.
THREE
Kyra groaned as she finally got the unconscious man into the queen sized bed taking up the majority of the cabin’s living space. She rotated her shoulders and tried her best to work the kinks out of her body as she surveyed the home.
It’d been the first structure she’d seen and the fact that Tyler’s key had fit the lock told her it was his. That was the ea
sy part. Lugging the six-footer into the house, or dragging him, had been anything but easy. Body parts formerly crying in pain were now screaming and writhing.
Two nightstands sandwiched the bed, each adorned with lamps which she didn’t bother to turn on. The right inner wall of the cabin housed several rows of built-in bookshelves surrounding a stone fireplace. A black leather couch rested before a large window, which was hidden behind long drapes with some sort of brown, tan, and black geometric design. A wooden coffee table sat before the couch. The left side of the cabin featured a full kitchen, a small round Oak dining set, and a door she prayed led to a bathroom with hot, running water.
Before she could soothe her own aches and pains, she had a patient to care for. Her lips twisted into a grin. As if she had the credentials to treat a patient. Hell, she didn’t even know what species this patient was. She could barely believe she was still within a hundred yards of him after what she’d seen him do.
Still, he had saved her life, and she’d stopped pretending this was a dream. This was very real and she had no car of her own now and no idea if the thugs sent by Rock were dead or alive. If Tyler hadn’t killed them, they’d still be coming for her. After what had happened in the bar parking lot, the police might be after them both. Judging by the reception she’d received at the bar, she didn’t have a prayer if the county cops got her alone. It was best she stay with the one man who’d shown her kindness, even if he was a … a werewolf?
“What have I gotten myself into?” She looked down at the man lying face up on the bed, his feet hanging off. Logic said to run, but instinct said he’d protect her from any danger coming her way. He already had.
What the hell. He wasn’t any more of a monster than Rock. She tugged the dirty Timberlands from his feet and maneuvered his legs into the bed before unfolding an afghan from the foot of the bed and covering him to his waist with it.
He was still out of it, but his chest rose and fell evenly. He was alive. His shirt was marred with crusted blood and a ragged hole. Gently, she unbuttoned it and pulled the fabric aside. His chest was perfect, and not just the rock-hard abs and pecs she couldn’t help but notice. It was perfectly undamaged.
“Molesting me already?”
Kyra jumped back, a small yelp escaping her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t, I just …”
“I know.” His eyes opened and closed. He started to sit up, but let his upper body fall back against the pillows. “Still recovering. I’ll explain everything once I get my strength back. There’s food and running water. Take care of yours—” His head lolled to the side and he was out again.
Kyra glanced toward the kitchen area, her stomach grumbling loudly as she imagined what food she would find behind the cabinet and refrigerator doors. Her body ached too much to enjoy a good meal at the moment, and she felt confident that she probably smelled bad but just couldn’t tell. All the murky water sloshed in her face during her walk to the bar had most likely shut down her olfactory senses. Maybe out of kindness, nature’s way of saying “I’ve tormented you enough. No use having to smell my wrath along with feeling it.”
A hot shower and a long soak in the bathtub—please, please say there was a bathtub—was her first priority… once she found something to put on after emerging. She didn’t see a dresser in the room, but there was a closet door. She opened it to find several shirts hanging up and shelves filling the bottom half of the closet space, the bottom shelf for shoes, the others for folded up jeans and a bin full of socks. No underwear.
She glanced back at the man resting on the bed, realizing the only thing separating her from all of him was a thin layer of denim, and felt heat flood her cheeks… and other areas. “Don’t go there, girl. Normal men are trouble. This one…” She shook her head, unable to contemplate the trouble she’d find with him.
She grabbed a long flannel shirt from the closet and closed the door, taking the garment into the bathroom with her. She smiled in sheer joy as she took in the shower and tub. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Closing the door behind her, she tossed the shirt on top of the closed hamper and opened the linen closet to retrieve a towel and washrag. Dropping the towel on top of the closed toilet seat, she turned toward the shower, catching her reflection in the bathroom mirror out of the corner of her eye.
She gasped, turning toward it fully to take in her appearance. Her hair went every direction but south, and grime streaked across her face. Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she realized this is how she’d appeared to Tyler.
Wait a minute. The man was a werewolf. And she was done with men. Men were trouble. Still, she couldn’t stand the thought of looking like this in front of Tyler a moment longer. She perused the linen closet, shower shelves, and medicine cabinet. Of course she found no black hair care products, but there was conditioner and baby oil, which would work in a pinch. The medicine cabinet provided prescription-grade pain reliever, probably far stronger than she needed, but she took a pill anyway. Her body would thank her for it.
The greatest find was a stack of unopened toothbrushes. She hastily went to work brushing the taste of roadside water out of her mouth. Next came the shower. She nearly moaned as hot water rained down on her and the muck of her three-mile walk to the bar disappeared down the drain. She used the shampoo available to her and worked in the conditioner, making a mask of it to penetrate her hair as she turned off the shower and filled the tub with water as hot as she could stand.
She rested her head along the back of the tub as the water flowed over her legs, soothing away her aches and pains. “Thank you, Lord, for seeing me through the storm.”
Just outside the door rested a six-foot tall werewolf and beyond one more door lay a whole town not very happy with her mere existence … but she’d never felt more at ease than in that very moment. She smiled at the absurdity.
Tyler sat up and stretched, testing out his muscles. Fortunately, the bullet he’d been shot with hadn’t been silver and had gone all the way through him, saving him the pain of digging it out. Unfortunately, he’d needed to shift in order to repair the damage done by the foreign object and had delayed doing so, since he’d had company.
Announcing you were a werewolf wasn’t something one generally did before even knowing their new acquaintance’s name, which he now realized he’d never bothered to ask. So taken in with her beauty under that layer of grime and enthralled by the pull she caused from deep within him, her name hadn’t mattered. Her protection had.
At least he’d managed to do that before crashing out like a pansy. He heard the running water in the bathroom shut off and figured that meant his guest was settling in for a nice soak. He hoped it did her some good. She’d been so sore upon entering the bar, he’d felt the ache in his own body like a phantom pain. He couldn’t be definite, but he felt pretty sure he hadn’t been out long, and the kitchen looked untouched.
He rose from the bed and crossed over to the kitchen area, sniffing. Nope. She hadn’t touched a thing, which meant she’d probably be ready for hot food once she finished up in the bathtub.
An image of her gliding soap over her dark caramel-colored skin had him harder than a New York Times crossword puzzle. “Down boy,” he murmured to himself as he retrieved a pot and set it on the stove. She hadn’t run away screaming or tried to attack him while he was vulnerable, but he couldn’t be too careless. This woman had a strange effect on him, drew him to her. She also brought her own danger with her. He hadn’t killed the men after her, he’d just given them enough pain for them to wish he’d killed them. But if the man she’d run from held enough power over them, they’d be back. Then there was the town to think about. Everybody in that bar had seen him get shot and walk away. He was surprised the sheriff hadn’t shown up yet.
Now was not the time to let his body overrule his brain.
He grabbed a can of chunky vegetable beef soup from the cabinet, opened it, and threw the contents into the pot, adding a can of water. Letting that heat, he grabbed
the corn meal and quickly set to work, preparing a stack of corn cakes. His stomach growled and he realized his guest wasn’t the only one in need of nourishment.
He’d just finished placing two bowls of soup on the dining table when the bathroom door opened and the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on walked out, wearing nothing but a burgundy and black flannel shirt from his closet. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as she stood before him, the thin fabric of the shirt not even grazing her knees, unsure gaze going from the food to him.
“I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your shirt. I had nothing else to wear and all my clothes were soaked.” Her voice trembled and a shaking hand twisted the hem of the shirt.
All her clothes? As in she probably wore nothing at all under that shirt? Tyler gulped hard, nearly choking on his own tongue before quickly turning his face away from her. Watching her nervously twist the hem of the shirt, showing even more smooth, perfect skin, made it very hard for him to walk but he managed to move back over to the stove and grab the stack of corncakes. “No problem. Grab some food while it’s hot.”
She joined him at the table, hesitantly, but hunger overruled her fear. He frowned, knowing she was afraid of him. He didn’t question how he could be so sure of another person’s feelings, not ready to face the realization of what he thought it meant. There’d been enough drama today.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promised before grabbing a corn cake. “If you have any questions, ask away. I know you’re pretty bewildered right now.”
Her hand stilled, spoonful of soup half way to her mouth. “It really happened, didn’t it?”
Tyler nodded, not bothering to pretend he didn’t know exactly which moment she referred to. “I wanted to get back to safety, tuck you away in the house and shift shape in the woods where no one would see. Including you. I’m sorry I frightened you. There just wasn’t enough time left for me to put it off a moment longer.”
Moonlit Protector (Moonlit Novella #3) Page 2