A whimper slipped through his clenched teeth. Christ, between his head pounding in time to his racing heart and the gash in his hind leg, he couldn’t determine which he disliked more. With miniscule movements and muscle twitches he tested each leg. Front left paw was ripped to shit, right front leg seemed fine. He could feel the broken rib as a sharp, stabbing pain with each inhalation. The rib injury he’d received when the yapping idiots jumped him. His right back leg had a deep cut, which had come from one of the coyotes, but he could tell it was healing already. Well, for being ambushed by eight shifters he’d fared well.
The scent within the little car was thick with wet fur, blood and human female. She smelled nice. Really nice. A mix between vanilla and perhaps cherries? Earthy but fruity. A yummy combination if he ever smelled one. What little he could see of her car was well kept, but it was an older model. The back windows still had crank handles. He felt bad about getting his mess all over her car, but he’d take the help she offered. If she hadn’t stopped he probably would’ve been dead by morning.
He caught a whiff of her blood and wondered if he’d lashed out at her. He couldn’t quite remember what he’d done when he first came to. He could recall the feel of her hand stroking his fur and the soft sound of her words when she spoke. If he’d harmed her he would be even more indebted to her. Already he owed her more than he’d owed anyone in a very long time. If he put a dent in her car or anything he’d be paying her for a year.
He flinched when she hit a pothole and yelped in pain. His side burned, flames of pain licked over his skin with each breath he sucked in. At least he wasn’t coughing up blood, so he probably hadn’t punctured a lung. He would heal fairly quickly, but he’d be sore for a few days. He just hoped that the stupid idiots that attacked him wouldn’t follow them to the woman’s house.
He was in no shape to defend her. Fucking coyotes. He’d moved to this town to get away from all the shifter bullshit. It seemed some of his history had followed him. At least when his last pack drove him out of their territory there had been a good reason for it. Tonight he’d just been minding his own business. Another bump in the road broke into his thoughts with a flash of agony through his chest. The pained sound that left his throat was loud in the enclosed vehicle. He tried to keep the whimpering to a minimum, afraid to distract the female. She seemed to be having a rough enough night as it was.
“Hang in there, baby. A few more minutes and we’ll be home. I don’t know how I’m going to get you out of the car, but once we get you out I’ll make you a place to lie down.” The female’s voice was shaky but calmed him. It moved over him like a caress, soothing and coaxing his muscles to relax. “Let’s hope that Margie gets my message and brings you something for the pain. I hate seeing anything in pain. What were you doing out running, huh baby? Were those coyotes chasing you? They sure sounded close.”
Ian breathed in her scent and let her words flow over and through his mind. He let his mind go, let the animal in him deal with the pain. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the smells and sounds within the vehicle. The female’s heart was racing, fear clung to her like a heavy cloud. She was afraid but still trying to help him. Amazing. She smelled faintly of pain as well. Once again he hoped he hadn’t bitten her before he came out of his pain-induced stupor. It wasn’t fresh pain, though. Perhaps she was injured when he hit her car.
Beneath the pain and fear was a wonderful feminine scent. She was crisp, like a spring breeze. Clean and pure came to mind as he pulled her into his lungs. Not a spring breeze, a sunny fall day. That is what she smelled like. Earthy, like falling leaves; fresh, like a spring-fed lake with that mouth-watering hint of vanilla. Each drag of breath brought something new to him. He could smell another male on her and he fought a growl. She wasn’t his. Shit, she was human, but there was something about her that pulled at him.
“A few more minutes. Hang in there, okay? I know you hurt, baby, but as soon as Margie comes she’ll give you something to fix it, I promise. Please don’t die on me. I’ve had a shitty night and that would just be a horrible ending. I know I’m rambling, but I’m really worried about you and I can’t seem to stop. Please be okay.” The female’s voice sounded thicker. She sniffled.
She was crying? For him? Something shook loose in his chest. A female hadn’t cried for him since he was a young boy. He felt a tug in his heart and cringed at the uncomfortable feeling. In the back of his mind a little voice whispered. You’ve found her.
Chapter Two
Cammie drove as carefully as she could on the country roads. She could hear every little whimper from the poor creature behind her. Each bump, pothole, and dip pulled a pain-filled sound from the animal. It tugged at her heart and she couldn’t hold back the tears. She kept talking to him, hoping her voice would keep him calm and sooth him at least a little bit. They finally made it to her driveway, and a thankful breath whoosh from her lips. That drive had never seemed so long. She parked her car carefully, avoiding the normal spot that had the ruts and dips. She took a few deep breaths and climbed out of the car, wincing at both the noise of her door squeaking and the twinge of pain in her ribs. She’d almost forgotten about Ron, the asshole, and her injuries. She’d been so focused on the animal in the back of her car that her own pain had receded some.
The smell of night hung heavy on a slight breeze. The sound of crickets and frogs from the pond relaxed the stress in her shoulders. Silence meant she was alone, and for once that was a good thing. She scooted around to the passenger side. Just before she opened the door she eyed the steps up to her porch. How the hell was she going to get the poor creature up to her house? She’d watched an animal rescue program not too long ago and they had helped an animal walk by running a towel under the belly and lifting up on the towel. Could she do that? She snorted. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, her father used to tell her. She peeked in the window and barely kept a fresh set of tears from streaming down her face. The poor thing was panting, eyeing her sideways as he lay on his belly.
“Hang on, baby. I’m going to grab a couple towels and see what I can find to help you. I’ll be right back.”
Running to the house pulled something in her side but she ignored the pain. With quick fingers she unlocked the door and rummaged through the dirty clothes sitting on her washer. Good thing she hadn’t thrown that load of towels in the wash before leaving to visit the asshole. She grabbed two and rushed back to her car. She’d have to bleach the blood and stuff out of them when she was done, but it was well worth it.
The moment she reached for the door she heard the sound of a car on her long gravel driveway. She stopped in her tracks and fear skated down her spine. What if it was Ron? She swallowed the whimper that threatened to bubble up her throat. This was her house, and she wasn’t weak, damn it. Dropping the towels on the ground, she raced up the steps and slammed her door shut, locking it behind her. If he was here she wasn’t safe. He’d be pissed and probably still drunk, and that didn’t bode well for her.
On trembling legs she ran up to her bedroom, knelt and fished her hand under her bed. A sigh of relief whispered into the dust bunnies when her fingers closed over the .22 long-barrel rifle she kept hidden. She crawled across the floor to reach under her dresser. Grabbing the box of rounds, she quickly loaded a handful of them into the gun. If she aimed really careful she could wound him if necessary. She took a moment to take a deep breath before climbing to her feet and rushing back down the stairs. With the weapon firmly in her hands she felt better, safer. Her daddy had spent too many Saturday afternoons teaching her how to shoot for her to feel threatened in her own home. If the asshole wanted to hurt her, he was going to take a couple bullets in the leg, or the arm, or the balls. With a peek out of the backdoor window she knew she still had a few moments before the approaching car made it to her house. She double checked the safety on the rifle to make sure it was still on, chambered a round and rested it against the wall. She flipped the outside flood lamp on and turned off all but t
he powder room light. She’d be able to see who was coming long before they saw her. A quick thought for the poor wolf in her car skittered through her mind, but the fear of Ron and what he was capable of kept her in the house, behind the locked door and hidden in the dark. The ring of her phone put at least six inches of air between her and the floor when she jumped. She nervously laughed, as she rushed into the kitchen. Her caller ID showed it was Margie. Thank God.
“Hey, Margie.” She could hear the shake in her voice and winced.
“What’s wrong, sugar?” Margie’s southern drawl wrapped around her senses like a security blanket. “Um, I’ll know in a minute. Someone’s coming down my driveway, and if it’s Ron I might be shooting him tonight.”
“Well, unless he’s in front of me he’s not coming to your house. I’m pulling around the last bend in your drive right now.”
Cammie released an audible sigh of relief. “Shit. I’m glad it’s you. I’m really not up for facing that asshole right now.”
“Okay, hon. Relax. I’m hanging up now. Come out and introduce me to your wolf. Then you’re going to tell me the reason you’re freaking about Ron showing up at your house.”
She hung up the phone and placed the rifle on her dining room table. She might need it later. Adrenaline was still pumping through her, making her heart race and her hands shake with anxiety. One final look outside before unlocking the door brought her heart rate back to almost normal. There sat Margie’s truck next to her little car. Opening the door and stepping onto the porch had her legs more stable and her nerves under control. She ducked her head to put her beaten face in shadow. Cammie didn’t want to look frazzled in front of Margie. The shiner she was sporting would be enough to have her friend ready to kill Ron, and the conversation they’d just had on the phone would have the other woman keyed up already.
“Christ, Cammie, what did he do to you?” Margie’s voice was strained with anger.
Well, that hadn’t worked. “Ron decided he wanted to attack me tonight. So, I’ve got a black eye and I’m guessing some fairly pretty bruises on my ribs and leg.” She looked up and tried to smile at her friend. They’d talked repeatedly about Ron and how abusive he was. She cringed, waiting for the “I told you so” speech.
“Oh, honey. As soon as we get your passenger situated you are going to let me look at you and check over your bruising. Fuck. He is such an asshole.”
Cammie opened the back door to her car and almost stumbled back at the sight of the wolf-dog. He was lying exactly like she’d left him, quivering in pain, and whimpering with each breath. She totally forgot about her leg or her ribs and squatted in front of the animal. “Shh, sweetie. Margie’s here now. We’re going to get you out of the car and get you fixed up.”
“Um. You do realize that is a wolf, right? I thought you had mistaken a German Shepherd for a wolf when you called, but that is definitely a wolf. Gray wolf, Canis lupus. Shit, you’ve got me rambling. Um, Cam, you might not want to get too close.”
Cammie turned her head and watched the fear building on her friend’s face. Yes, she knew it was dangerous, but she knew somehow that the animal wasn’t going to hurt her. She looked at the ground behind her to make sure the towels were still there. She pointed to them. “Grab those and we can lift him out. He crawled in on his own, but I’m worried about the stairs.”
“Fine. Don’t listen to me. No one else does.” Margie stomped to the pile of towels and picked them up, mumbling under her breath. “If I get bitten or eaten I’m totally blaming you for it.”
The women worked together, opening both doors and slowly pushing towels under the wolf’s body. They were both sweating by the time they got them positioned. The poor thing had whimpered and yelped a few times, but he’d kept his teeth covered. He was working so hard at being good. She decided when this was all over she’d make him the biggest steak she could afford for being such a good boy.
“Okay, Cam. We are going to try and get him to do some of the work. You’re going to stand at his head and lift up on the towel as he rises. Don’t drag him up or out of the car. It’s going to be super awkward, but I think that will be the best way. He’s too big for us to carry.” Margie crawled onto the back seat and grabbed her towel ends, nodding to Cammie, who still stood outside the car.
“Come on, hon, let’s get you out of the car. Can you get up and come out here?” Cammie pitched her voice high and entreating. She hoped the animal would respond and start moving. Her arms ached already just from trying to gently push and pull the towel under his chest. Her face was pounding in time to her heart beat. Her ribs ached enough that each breath hurt. She needed a shower, beer and a pair of ibuprofen. “Come on, baby.”
To her amazement the animal moved. He struggled to his feet with their help, and slowly stepped out of the car. He whimpered with each step, but he didn’t even bare his teeth at them. Her heart ached for him as his body shook, quivers running down his flanks. Blood was still seeping from a gaping wound on his hind leg. Rocks had stuck to the mud and dried blood on his side. He was a mess. They paused for a moment when he had all four feet on the gravel.
“All right. We’re going to take this nice and easy. Where are we putting the big lug once we get him on your porch?”
Margie’s no-nonsense attitude helped center Cammie’s thoughts. She hadn’t even thought that far. Shit. She didn’t want him in the house. The image of finding him, snarling, in her kitchen sent a shiver of fear through her. Laundry room it is then. He would be inside but not able to get to her. She used her arm to wipe the sweat gathering on her forehead. They needed to get him settled soon, before her arms gave out. “Okay, we’re going to take him into the laundry room.” She looked back at her friend and grinned. “You ready? He’s getting really heavy.”
“Yep, let’s get this bad boy in so I can stop shaking.” The girls both huffed out laughs and waddled toward the house, half carrying the large animal between them. Their breathing was labored and sweat poured off their faces. Neither woman would give up. Pushed by the animal’s cries of pain they worked hard, walking as slowly and carefully as they could. The stairs were torture, but he seemed to assist them some by bearing his weight as they slowly crawled up to the porch.
“Thank God there are only four steps.” Margie huffed quietly. “If there were more I might have had to fake a cramp.”
“Don’t make me laugh or I’ll drop him.” Cammie turned and quickly shoved the door open, kicking the doormat out of the way. “Let’s get him inside. I have some extra blankets in the closet that we can throw on the floor.” Just as she finished speaking there was a slow yank on her towel. She looked down to find the wolf’s eyes closed and his head hanging to the side. Her first thought was that he’d died, her breath rushed in on a sobbing gasp. Then, she noticed his sides were still moving with his breath. The relief that coursed through her was disconcerting, but she pushed the worry away. At the moment she needed to get him inside so Margie could check him over. “I think he passed out. Can animals do that?”
“Yes. And, I think you’re right. That might actually make it better for him. If I can check him over without muzzling him that would be good. He’s been through enough.”
* * * * *
The pain had intensified until Ian was afraid he was going to throw up. He’d struggled while in the car to hear what was happening, catching a whiff of panic from Cammie just before she’d sprinted for the house. He’d listened to her slam the door shut and perhaps go up a set of stairs. The sound of an approaching car had obviously made her afraid. He felt so helpless, unable to protect her from whatever was causing her fear.
Once her friend arrived he could do nothing but keep his lips over his teeth and not snarl at them. The women were trying to be gentle, but the towel running under his ribs pressed and yanked on his injuries with each movement. He swallowed every growl that threatened to roll through his chest. He refused to scare them. He couldn’t stop the whimpering. Each sway, each step, sent jolts of
pain through his body. He tried to help them, knowing he was huge and heavy.
His paws stopped working at the top of the stairs. His strength completely gone, sapped from his muscles by the horrible throbbing pain. He listened to the females talking, their voices getting quieter and quieter. He heard one last yelp, as if he was in a tunnel, before he blacked out, welcoming the darkness and oblivion.
Chapter Three
Ian came to through a fog of pain and growled deep in his chest. His animal was fighting for dominance in their collective mind. He knew he’d been attacked, he could still smell the fucking coyotes on his fur. It was the other scents that brought him around. Females, human females, were near. He quieted the growl enough to concentrate on his nose. Memories bubbled up. He’d been hurt. The one woman had brought him to her house. The other was a vet. Christ, his head hurt.
“Shh, sweetie. Don’t fight us. I don’t want Margie muzzling you, so calm down. She’s almost done checking you over, then we’re going to clean you up.”
The female—no, he knew her name—Cammie. He wondered briefly if that was short for something. The thought slid from his mind when she continued cooing, as if he was an injured baby bird. She spoke softly to him, coaxing him to relax. Her hand stroked down his head in slow slides, over and over. He fought the pain enough to open his eyes, and found a beautiful pixie face close to his. Her hazel eyes were so large in her pale face she looked child-like. One eye was partially swollen shut, marred with a nasty bruise and fresh scrapes. His anger boiled again. Who in their right mind would harm a female enough to leave that kind of damage?
Accidentally Yours (Coyote Bluff Series Book 1) Page 2