Wolf at the Door: Salvation Pack, Book 1

by N. J. Walters

  He was shifting as he ran, ignoring the various bite wounds and slashes covering his body. Blood seeped down his arms and legs, but none of them mattered. Getting to Gwen was his only goal. He shoved open the front door of the cabin and raced toward the kitchen.

  “No,” he yelled as he stumbled to a stop. “No. No. No,” he whispered. Gwen was lying on the floor in the corner of the dining area beyond the table, her body limp like a broken doll.

  He sensed the other wolf in the room and whirled to face his father. Blood seeped from the older man’s mouth and lips, Gwen’s blood. His own father, his own flesh and blood had done this. Jacque’s claws lengthened and he growled. “I’m going to kill you for this, old man!” He thought he’d hated his father before, but that was nothing compared to the bubbling fury welling up within him. “And then I’m going to burn your body and dance on your ashes.”

  “Are you? Or are you going to try to save your precious human?”

  Jacque’s gaze jerked toward Gwen and he saw her eyelids flutter.

  “She’s not quite dead yet. She will be in a few hours or so. Only a very small few live after a werewolf bite. You can either kill me or try to save her. Your choice.” With that last taunt, Pierre LaForge turned his back on his son and calmly strode out the back door.

  Jacque let him go, knowing he had no choice. Not when Gwen was still alive. Not when there was still the tiniest chance he could save her. He loved her more than he hated his father. He would do anything to save her.

  If Gwen died, or even if she didn’t, he knew where to find his old man, and there would be a reckoning for what he’d done.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jacque heard the long, low howl from outside and knew his father was calling his remaining men back to him, their job here done. He dropped to his knees beside Gwen, almost afraid to touch her, and stared at the bloody gash on her neck. She was going to bleed to death if he didn’t stop the flow. He jumped to his feet, grabbed the dishtowel off the hook by the sink and pressed it against her flesh. Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.

  “I’ve got you, Gwen. Everything will be okay now.” But it wouldn’t be, and the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He’d let her down, failed her when she needed him most. Didn’t protect her like he’d promised.

  “Hey,” Louis called as he entered the cabin. “They’re retreating.”

  “I need help,” he called from the kitchen. He heard Louis swear and then his brother was beside him.

  “What can I do?”

  Jacque motioned to the makeshift bandage. “Hold that in place while I lift her.” They both knew she most likely had broken bones and it probably wasn’t safe to move her, but they didn’t have much choice. She was bleeding heavily and probably dying.

  No, he wouldn’t believe that. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d go mad.

  Jacque held the precious bundle in his arms. “Don’t leave me, Gwen. Don’t leave me.” He whispered the words, knew his brother heard them but didn’t care. Gwen was his life. Louis kept pace as he carried her down the hall to the bedroom, keeping pressure on her wound.

  Jacque set her carefully on the bed and took over Louis’s job. “We need medical supplies. Get Gator, he’s got the best hands for sewing up wounds. And, Louis, hurry.”

  Louis disappeared and Jacque put pressure on the wound with one hand and brushed her hair away from her forehead with the other. “Stay with me, Gwen. Stay with me.” His hand was stained with blood. Her blood. He wanted to howl at the unfairness of it all. Gwen was such a kind, forgiving woman. Just look at the way she’d forgiven him for kidnapping her and allowed him into her life and her bed.

  He alternated between swearing and snarling because it was taking the others so long to get here, and praying that she’d be okay. He kept his gaze on her chest, watching the slow rise and fall. Each breath she took was precious to him and a tangible sign she hadn’t left him alone.

  After what seemed like an eternity, he heard the front door slam open and sighed with relief. His pack was here and there was strength in numbers. If sheer willpower alone could get her through this ordeal, she’d live for sure.

  “What happened?” Gator strode into the room wearing only a pair of jeans. Wounds covered his chest and arms and his feet were bare, but he didn’t even seem to be aware of it. All his focus was on Gwen.

  This was his friend, his brother of the heart, and Jacque was about to entrust him with the most important person in his life—his mate. For there was no denying that’s what Gwen was. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d remained human and lived only a matter of decades. She was his heart.

  Gator went around to the other side of the bed and put his hand on the dishtowel, which was now heavy with blood. “Let me see.” Jacque swallowed heavily and let Gator lift the edge of the towel. “Dieu. This is not good, my friend.” When Jacque returned his hand, Gator ripped away the neckline of Gwen’s T-shirt, exposing more skin.

  “It was my father.” Jacque didn’t want to claim kinship with the monster who had done this, but there was no denying genetics. “He hurt her for no real reason other than he could and he wanted to. He found pleasure in it. What does that make me?”

  Gator’s hand fell heavily on his shoulder. “A good man. You are nothing like him. I’ll wash up. Cole is getting the first aid box from our place.” Gator disappeared into the bathroom and water ran in the background.

  “See, chère,” he told her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was cold and clammy. “Gator will sew you up nice and good. He’ll take good care of you and I’ll be right here the whole time.” He kissed her cheeks and her cool lips, willing her to open her eyes and look at him. But she remained limp and unresponsive.

  Cole stalked into the room, murder in his eyes. “Fucking bastards. We gonna go get them when this is done. Non?” Cole’s Cajun accent grew thicker the more upset he became.

  “He’ll pay,” Jacque promised.

  “Good.” Cole set the box he was carrying on the bed. He had a clean towel, which he snapped open and set on the bed. He opened the first aid gear and started laying things out.

  Armand hurried into the room. Like the other men, he was wearing only a pair of jeans. Jacque was the only one who was still naked. “How is she?”

  Jacque shook his head.

  “Let’s get started.” Gator stalked back to the bed and grunted at the supplies Cole had set out. He grabbed a packet, ripped it open and nodded at Jacque. “You have to let go of the towel now and let me see to her.” He ripped open several more small packets and sat on the edge of the bed, hands poised and ready.

  It almost tore Jacque apart to have to release his hold on her and put her life into the hands of another man. He slowly released the towel and Gator moved in quickly, pulling it back. He swore again and swabbed her neck with antiseptic of some kind. The harsh chemical smell mixed with that of her blood, burning the inside of Jacque’s nostrils.

  “I’m going to give her a shot to numb the area. I don’t want her waking up in the middle of this.” Gator grabbed a small needle, removed the cap with his teeth and injected whatever was in the vial into several spots around the wound site.

  Jacque clasped Gwen’s hand in his and squeezed it tight. She was so cold and silent it frightened him. She’d lost quite a lot of blood. This was so wrong. Gwen was so full of life and fight, never at a loss for something to say.

  Gator worked quickly and competently. He picked up a needle and began the long, arduous process of stitching Gwen back together. The gashes on her neck would scar if she survived. He swallowed hard, trying not to think of the alternative.

  He was grateful that Gator had taken paramedic training and had kept up on the latest techniques thanks to the internet and online education. They rarely needed this kind of medical attention as their physiology made them very quick healers, but it did happen from time to time.

  He lifted Gwen’s hand to his lips and kissed the bruised top, cradling her palm in hi
s. “Gator is stitching you up now, chère. You’ll be good as new after you rest.” The men around him shuffled uncomfortably. He knew as well as they did that the chances of her surviving this were practically nil. Still, he wouldn’t give up, and he wouldn’t let her quit either.

  He talked to her while Gator stitched, mending shredded tissues as best as he could. It was a patchwork at best. The clock ticked by slowly, each minute seemed an hour. When he was done, Gator padded the area and wrapped thick gauze around her neck.

  Gator sat back and swiped his forearm over his forehead. “That’s all I can do for her. We’ll just have to wait and see. I’m going to check the rest of her over now.” He carefully worked his way down from her head to her toes, examining her for other injuries. “I’m almost positive several of her fingers are broken. I’m going to splint them to keep her from moving them and hurting them further.” Gator worked quickly, immobilizing three fingers on her right hand.

  When it was done, Jacque clasped Gator’s arm. “Thank you.”

  Gator shook off his thanks. “She is one of us now.”

  That said it all. His pack had taken her into their hearts and she was one of them. He nodded and returned his gaze to her face, willing her to open her eyes. Nothing.

  “She’ll need to be cleaned up and the other minor cuts taken care of. I assume you’ll handle that. I’ll be back to check on her later.”

  Jacque nodded and Gator took his leave. It had been hard enough for him to allow another man to deal with her serious injuries. He would not be able to keep his wolf in check if Gator touched her naked skin beneath her clothing, even if it was simply to care for minor cuts.

  Both Cole and Armand filed out behind Gator, stopping only long enough to squeeze his shoulder in encouragement.

  Louis scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. “Why don’t you shower and dress. I’ll sit with her while you’re gone.” Before he could protest, his brother continued. “It’s going to be a long day, my brother. You want to wash the blood of your enemy away before you sit with your mate.”

  Louis was acknowledging Jacque’s claim on Gwen. By doing that he was relinquishing any hope he ever had of claiming her as his own. It went against every instinct Jacque had to leave her for even a few moments, but he knew Louis was right.

  “I’ll leave the door to the bathroom open. If she stirs, call me.” He didn’t want to miss it if she opened her eyes even for a brief second.

  “I will.” It was a promise he knew Louis would keep.

  Jacque rose from the bed and stalked into the bathroom. He turned on the water in the shower and stepped beneath the spray. It was cool against his skin and he leaned his hands against the tiles and let it cascade over him. The water pooling at his feet ran red. How had this happened? How had things come to this?

  His father. The bastard wasn’t content to rule his own kingdom. He wanted to control his sons’ as well. He would pay for what he’d done. One way or another, he would pay.

  Jacque grabbed the bar of soap from the shelf and quickly washed. He didn’t want to be away from Gwen any longer than he had to be. He kept his ears open for any sound that she might be stirring. Every now and then, through the roar of the water pelting the slate tiles of the shower, he thought he heard something and his body tensed. But each time, he was convinced he’d heard only what he wanted to hear so desperately—the sound of Gwen’s voice. When all the blood was washed from his body, he turned off the taps and climbed out, grabbing a clean towel from the shelf.

  He padded back into the bedroom while he was still dripping. Gwen was lying exactly where he’d left her. Louis sat on the bed beside her, her limp hand in his, the splints Gator had wrapped around her hand made it look all the more fragile.

  “She hasn’t moved or made a sound.”

  Jacque nodded and toweled himself off. He went to his closet, grabbed a pair of faded jeans off the shelf and dragged them on. Gwen was covered in sweat and dried blood. His next job was to make her more comfortable.

  He hurried from the room and out to the kitchen. The others had left the house and Jacque knew without having to ask that they were dealing with bodies. Werewolf remains burned hot and fast, which was a blessing in a situation like this. It wouldn’t take long to reduce their remains to ashes and spread them to the wind. There would be no evidence of this night’s work.

  The sun was rising over the mountains in the distance as he dug through the cupboards, searching for a bowl he could fill with water. It seemed wrong for the sun to be out while Gwen was fighting for her life. It should be raining, the heavens sorrowful.

  He found a metal bowl and quickly filled it with hot water. Neither Louis nor Gwen had moved when he returned to the room. “I’ll take things from here,” he told his brother. “I’m going to clean her up and make her more comfortable.”

  Louis placed Gwen’s hand on top of the mattress and stood. “I’ll check back in later.” The two brothers looked at one another and then came together in a heartfelt hug. There was nothing more to be said. Louis left and closed the door behind him, leaving Jacque alone with Gwen.

  He set the bowl on the bedside table and hurried to the bathroom for a fresh washcloth, towel and soap. She was lying on top of the covers, her formerly white shirt now only fit for the garbage. And those ridiculous pajama bottoms with the little stars and moons would never be free from bloodstains again.

  He ripped the remains of the shirt away, moving her as little as possible. There were a couple small scratches beneath it but nothing serious. Her torso was heavily bruised, new bruises mixing with the older, almost faded ones.

  “Oh, chère,” he whispered. Her life had been one bloody battle after another since he’d met her. It was a wonder she could stand the sight of him, let alone welcome him into her bed and her life.

  He removed her canvas sneakers, hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pajama pants and slowly pulled them down her legs. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found only bruises. Those would heal in time, assuming she survived.

  He shoved that thought out of his head. She would survive. She had to.

  She was totally naked except for the bandages wrapped around her neck and fingers. The vibrancy that he associated with Gwen was missing, her body limp and still. He knew he had to get her cleaned up as the enzymes in his father’s teeth were even now flooding into her bloodstream. Soon, they would take over her body like a virus, trying to turn her body into something it wasn’t—a werewolf. This was the time those who were bitten died.

  Gwen would be one of the special few who lived. He couldn’t believe anything else, even while he feared the worst.

  Jacque dipped the cloth in the water, which had cooled enough to touch, and rubbed the bar of soap over it, making a light lather. He started at her face and washed it, cleaning away sweat and blood. “That should make you feel better. When you’re well again, we’ll have a bath together. I may need to rethink that room. I think it needs a bigger tub. What do you think?”

  She didn’t answer, but he kept on talking as he dipped the cloth into the bowl and wrung it out again. “Maybe you’d like a different house. You can have anything you want,” he promised as he ran the cloth over her face again, making certain to get every speck of blood. “You can even decorate it however you want.” He paused. “Okay, no pink. Or frills. Or froufrou stuff. But other than that, you can do whatever you want.” He used the towel on her face, patting it dry so she wouldn’t catch a chill.

  He loaded up the cloth again and started on her chest. The sight of her full, firm breasts usually sent his libido skyrocketing, but not now, not with her clinging to life. Now the slight movement in them was a reminder she was still breathing, was still alive. When he was finished with her torso, he changed the water, dumping the dirty stuff down the drain in the bathroom and refilling the bowl.

  Time passed slowly, but he took his time, wanting to care for her. His wolf paced inside him, fretful and angry. His wolf wanted to ki
ll. The human part of him knew that time would come but for now he had to care for his mate. His hands were gentle as he washed her, not stopping until he’d cleaned the soles of her feet.

  “There, you’re all clean, chère.” He took the bowl and supplies to the bathroom and dumped them. On his way back to the bed, he detoured and grabbed one of his oversized T-shirts. He knew the other men would be checking on her from time to time and didn’t want her naked in front of them. He was turning into a possessive beast when it came to his Gwen.

  It took him some time and maneuvering but he finally got the shirt over her head and her arms through the armholes. He tugged the fabric over her body, covering her all the way to the tops of her thighs. The neckline hung down to her collarbone, which was good. He didn’t want anything tight around her neck.

  “Don’t get used to me dressing you. And don’t think this means you can start wearing pajamas to bed. This is only temporary.”

  Jacque dragged the covers from beneath her, being careful not to jar her too much, and pulled them over her. The top blanket was soiled with blood and water so he dragged it off and dumped it on the floor.

  He eased down onto the bed beside her and propped his head on his hand so he could watch her. She was unnaturally still, which bothered him. Her breathing was slow but steady, and that gave him hope.

  Jacque placed his hand over her heart and felt the stuttering beat. “Don’t die, Gwen,” he begged her. “You have to live. For me. For us.” As he watched her, the sun streamed in through the window, capturing her in its golden glow, making her hair look more like a halo.

  Gwen drifted in a dark void, hovering, weightless. There was something she should remember, but she couldn’t summon the energy to care. It was safer here. Above the darkness was danger and pain, and she shied away from it.

  As though detached from her body, she studied it clinically. She knew she’d been injured. Someone had hurt her badly. She tried to swallow, but her throat hurt. Why did her throat hurt?